This is very good and prompts me to post something I wrote some time ago but decided not to post. Here it is. The time I really learned about listening In 1984 I lost my Army job (Id been a temporary employee and theres not enough time to explain how anyone lost a military job during the Reagan years). There was a Veterans Outreach Office about 20 miles away I thought why not have them help me find work. I visited to get some assistance in the job search. No matter how many times I explained to the counselor that I was desperate for work, he turned the conversation back to me not having successfully dealt with my Vietnam War experience. Over and over again, I said I wasnt there for that. By the time I left (I have no idea how long I was there) I was mad enough to have one of those legendary “Vietnam Veteran Loses It” episodes. I was this close to violence. As it turned I did find a job with the Veterans Administration in late 1985. As time went on and I thought about the push by the counselor I decided to write a long essay about my year in Vietnam. Let me say right here that my combat experience was somewhat limited – compared to many others – I certainly was not any kind of hero. Thats for sure. But as I said in the narrative, and have said many times since, “It is very bad policy to compare your nightmares (or dreams) with anyone elses. Nightmares and dreams are not comparable.” After writing the document and editing it any number of times, I really couldnt think of what to do with it. Slowly I started sharing it with various people – family, girlfriends, friends, acquaintances, etc. Each time I did, they dutifully read it and then asked me questions about different events or sequences. Some commented both generally and specifically about things described and my responses to them. As time went on I was getting frustrated. I didnt really have any expectations about desired responses from readers, but I kept coming up on empty. One day I shared it with a woman who worked in my office. Although she wasnt doing so in our office, shed had a long career as a psychiatric nurse working with World War II, Korean War and Vietnam Veterans. I gave the narrative to her one afternoon and she said shed try to read it that night. I didnt give it too much thought. The next morning when I came onto our hallway, Cheri was standing there with my document. She had tears in her eyes, looked at me and simply said, “That must have been very hard for you. Im sorry.” She handed me the papers, then hugged me and walked away. “That must have been very hard for you. Im sorry.” I was stunned. I walked into my office, shut the door and started crying – not so much over my Vietnam experience, but over the simple, gentle acknowledgment of my feelings. “That must have been very hard for you. Im sorry.” There it was. Not a question or interpretation or request for more details. That simple direct comment, apology for not being able to offer more, and a hug changed my life. It changed my life in a very simple way. It underscored, highlighted, perhaps magnified, something I think I already knew, but didnt understand before that. What I was looking for was someone to listen to my story, to acknowledge it, and verify its validity – not to the world as truth or wisdom, but as something very personal. Cheri did that that morning. And Ive been in her debt ever since. I cant say Ive always successfully duplicated what she did that morning, but her example does set a standard for me to strive for. And thats the time I really learned about listening.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Dec 2014 18:47:54 +0000
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