The Power and Pain of Conversation
I love conversations. To be precise, I love the warmth exchanged between people during a conversation. The same words can feel completely different depending on who I’m talking to. “Ah, this person is speaking indirectly to avoid making me uncomfortable,” “this person humbles themselves while lifting me up,” “this person waits until I finish speaking….” Conversations filled with such consideration, humility, and active listening are exhilarating. I could talk for hours without tiring.
But after some conversations, my heart feels heavy all day. Though many words were exchanged, nothing seems to have been communicated. It feels like our words collided in the air and fell to the ground. I’ve spent many sleepless nights pondering why such conversations keep happening.
Why Does This Feeling Arise?
Though the reasons vary, there was one common thread: “people who interrupt.” My surroundings are filled with those who cut off speech in various ways. The first type is “someone who only wants to share their own thoughts.” Their minds are already made up. No matter what the other person says, they interrupt with, “Sorry to cut you off….” The second is “someone whose thoughts are elsewhere.” Their eyes may be on me, but their mind is far away. After I speak excitedly for a while, they suddenly light up and ask, “Have you seen that movie?” or “Did you hear about that?” The third is “someone who mirrors your words.” Whatever I say, they reflect it back like a mirror: “You have that side too.”
The other day, I talked at length with a friend about the “sorrow of being interrupted.” After quietly listening, my friend cautiously said, “You sometimes interrupt me too.” My mind went blank. “What? Do I interrupt?” “I think it’s because you want to empathize so much. When I say something, you respond with, ‘Oh right, I’ve been through that too,’ and start sharing your own story. It’s not bad, but sometimes I wish you’d just listen until I finish.”
Surprisingly, my friend was right. When someone shared a hardship, I’d bring up a similar experience to comfort them. When they shared joy, I’d mirror it to celebrate together. Under the guise of empathy, the conversation’s focus shifted to me, and I unknowingly hijacked their story.
The Reasons Behind the Interruptions
An even more surprising discovery followed: the “interrupters” around me had their own reasons. The “someone who only wants to share their thoughts” had rarely been given a chance to speak. The “someone whose thoughts are elsewhere” was burdened by a major worry. The “someone who mirrors your words” had wanted to point out “that side of me” for a long time. We were all engaging in conversation in our awkward ways—some too eager to speak, some lost in thought, some overly cautious, some overly empathetic.
A few days ago, I met a junior after a long time. They enthusiastically shared stories about a new project. Several times, the words “Oh, I’ve done a similar project before” rose to my throat. I held back. I kept listening, nodding when I felt empathy, asking, “And then?” “Wow, really?” “How did that feel?” After they finished, they said, “Thank you for talking with me, Senior.”
Ah, I see. Sometimes, simply listening well can make a conversation meaningful. Perhaps real conversation isn’t about speaking but about “waiting”—until the other person’s words are fully ripe, their heart fully open, their story fully flowing.
Learning from the Awkwardness
Even now, I’m often interrupted, or I interrupt others without realizing. I’m still awkward. But I’m learning: we all want to connect in our own ways. Though we sometimes cut off or misalign, these are clumsy gestures toward connection. So today, I converse again. Striving to wait a little longer. Sometimes interrupting, sometimes being interrupted. Believing that all this awkwardness will one day become real conversation.
I love conversations. Precisely, I love the awkward process of adjusting our temperatures to one another. After all, we are people who must spend our lives in conversation.