It’s 2:45PM on Thursday and I’m staring at an oversized screen avoiding paperwork.

On the screen, two men sit at a bar talking, flirting, connecting.

One man talks about his dreams, looks down and sighs, the other reassures him.

I immediately feel defensive — why do people always assume you need reassurance?

It wasn’t even my thing to be upset about.

Then the memories hit. I was sent sprawling, dress flying over my head, at warp speed through the past. I felt the same defensiveness. The same disappointment. The same discouraged, giving up.

I felt completely misunderstood.

I felt the old sensation of being scrunched down into a room with too low a ceiling. I sat hunched and scowled, never getting the encouraging, enthusiastic response I wanted when I told people…anything.

Instead, it was always sympathy. Or worse, unsolicited advice. Why did everyone assume I didn’t have a handle on things?

Ding ding! It stopped.

I slowly removed the earmuffs. They twisted the sound. I heard only what I could figure out.

And suddenly the sound was clear. Everything made sense.

When you say something and sound discouraged, people respond with encouragement.

When you tell someone something and sound insecure, they respond with reassurance.

When you tell someone something and sound fearful they respond with acknowledgement.

I spent years frantically swinging my flat-palms at the air in front of me while my friends just sat and watched.

How do I do this? How do I get the response I want?

007 was never my game.

And conversations become really hard when it feels like no one respects you…and connection stops.

But with muffs off, I could hear the flat tone, the lists of facts, the down-talking and down-playing.

The pessimism.

The crying out.

The discouragement that wasn’t allowed to be shown.

The shame of existing.

I thought I sounded like I knew what I was doing. Like I had it under control. Like I deserved a place here.

But all that had pushed through.

When I had said something and sounded discouraged, people had encouraged me.

When I had said something and sounded insecure, people had reassured me.

When I had said something and sounded fearful, people had acknowledged me.

And then I knew that all that time all I could hear was myself.