Say what you have to say
Words from a wise man
My older brother is autistic and has a speech impediment. We rarely speak (my doing) and when we do, I try not to overwhelm. I stick to very simple yes / no questions, avoiding open-ended questions or too many options.
The exception is around Christmas when we talk about gifts he wants. Every year, his asks are predictable --- money, the Blue Jeans Versace cologne, black socks. But this year he had a surprisingly specific request --- size 11, black and white Nikes with a clear sole. In my excitement that he had such specificity this year, I was hell-bent on getting it right. My Googles led to many, many variations of the same description. I had to call him back.
"Do you want the high-rise or low-rise, black shoe, with the white check? And do you mean a yellow, rubbered sole or a translucent sole? Or do you want the white shoe with the black check and the yellow, rubber sole?"
After a long, silent pause, I knew I overwhelmed him. I wanted to start over but his shaky voice emerged and he responded. "Say what you have to say, Vanessa." I quickly muted the phone to let out my laughter.
Got it, too many options.
----
I thought about those words when I found myself stuttering in conversation with someone I've known for over 13 years. It was almost sunrise and the mixture of exhaustion and a long night of alcohol created the perfect amount of courage. The waves crashing in the background made me so aware of the present moment. This fleeting experience. We were slowly entering vulnerable, emotional territory. My words started to slow down. My heart rate sped up. My body checked in to make sure I was ready to say what was inching closer to the tip of my tongue. Heat rising.
"Say what you have to say" I heard in my brother's voice.
"I…have…three things I want to tell you. Things I've never told you," I said.
"Wait, hold on," they said, quickly grabbing my arm. "I'm not ready." We laughed that nervous laugh adults use to buy themselves time. An audible deep breath. "Ok, go."
As I inched each sentence out it seemed like time stopped just for me. A window of time gifted for me to express myself, to release. Still, I wanted to back out after each word. Voices telling me that we'll have another opportunity. That these things don't matter. This doesn't have to happen now. Stop. speaking.
Through the knots in my throat and the daze of vulnerability, I managed to push through. My emotional courage paved a path for the conversation to blossom into spaces we've never allowed ourselves to step into, another gift.
I've replayed that scene the way adults replay memories. I've replayed the lightness I felt. I replay the energy of vulnerability and the closeness of that fleeting moment.
----
When I think about that closeness and the beauty in expressing long-held feelings, I think about my brother. The way his blunt responses have encouraged simplicity in communication and unexpected laughter for those who've been on the receiving end of them. How no one has ever said that to him.
I think about all the things I haven't said to him. All the things I fear he wouldn't understand. The walls I've created to avoid discomfort. I think about the feelings he's carrying that no one makes room for, the questions we don't ask him. I think about all he has to say that no one invites.
We all carry feelings we've longed wanted to express and we don't even realize the weight they place on our physical and emotional energy until we release them. We move through the world like we have time left. Foolishly, like we're in control of how many moments you'll get to experience with someone. Pushing off admiration, appreciation, and love. Afraid to share those thoughts of gratitude that play in your mind when you think of someone.
…Say what you have to say.
Good Reads
“Feeling Unsatisfied? Blame Romantic Consumerism” - A Q&A with relationship therapist Esther Perel on fulfillment, dating, and marriage.
The Case for Being Touched - “As a single, 27-year-old Muslim woman, I had never experienced physical intimacy, not even a kiss. And as a television writer, I needed more experiences to draw from.”
Streaming
Stolen Youth - On Hulu. The documented footage really turns this one up. A group of bright Sarah Lawrence College students fall under the dark influence of a friend’s father, Larry Ray. With unprecedented access and documentary footage from their time living with Ray, the film follows the cult from its origins through its still-unfolding aftermath.
Murdaugh Murders: A Southern Scandal - On Netflix. Privilege. Power. Money and Murders. Plus it’s actively on trial. Shocking tragedies shatter a tight-knit South Carolina community and expose the horrifying secrets of its most powerful family.