Heard in Full
Day 172 – May 14, 2026
There’s a big difference between someone hearing your words and someone actually hearing you. A massive difference. One is listening. The other is landing. And I think I’m more aware of that now than I’ve ever been, mostly because I’ve had enough experiences where I was technically speaking English and somehow still not arriving in the room at full volume.
Which is annoying, because I am very articulate. Like, if I am not being understood, we can safely rule out “poor phrasing” as the primary issue. Sometimes people just hear the version of you that is easiest for them to carry.
Not the real one. Not the layered one. Not the one with the grief and the humor and the intelligence and the anger and the tenderness and the little evil voice that writes absolutely devastating first drafts when hurt.
Just the easy one.
I’m bored by that now.
I do not want to be politely half understood. I do not want nodding with no depth. I do not want people hearing my sentence and missing my soul because they got distracted by the packaging.
I want to be heard in full.
Not all the time by everyone. That sounds exhausting and statistically impossible. But by the right people? Yes. It’s not just “I listened.” It’s “I got it.” It’s “I feel what you meant.” It’s “I’m not going to reduce you to make this more comfortable for myself.” It’s “you don’t have to explain your way through twelve extra hoops just because your life is more complicated than my emotional skill set.”
Honestly, I’ve had more of that lately than I used to.
Yes, of course Roger absolutely does that too, in his own ridiculous way.
That dog tracks my moods like a furry intelligence operative. If I get quiet, he notices. If I’m heavy, he gets closer. If I spiral too hard, suddenly I’m being stared at by a 65 pound pit bull with the face of a concerned bouncer and the soul of a clingy husband.
It’s effective. Humiliating, but effective.
And maybe that’s part of what I’ve been appreciating lately. How obvious it feels in the body when you are actually being heard. You don’t have to perform as much. You don’t have to tidy yourself before speaking. You don’t have to translate every sharp or complicated feeling into a prettier dialect just so the room can stay calm and no one mistakes your reality for “a lot.”
Because I am a lot. Lovingly. And with excellent reason.
I contain grief, wit, edge, softness, beauty, suspicion, longing, intelligence, and a surprisingly robust ability to laugh in the middle of things that should have made me unbearable by now.
That whole woman deserves to be heard. Not just the polished one. Not just the easiest one. Not just the one who sounds the most socially manageable. The whole one.
And once you’ve been heard in full by the right people, it gets very hard to go back to being politely tolerated by people with the emotional depth of a yard gnome.
No thank you.
Chaos in one hand. Grace in the other.
And me, no longer interested in being listened to halfway when I know exactly how good it feels to be heard all the way through.
