The T.C.L.C - The Lost Art of Real Communication
This is something I've been talking about a lot recently, I think it's because we're moving into the darker nights when a lot of people can feel even more lonely and possibly because I'm dealing with more and more people on a daily basis, I'm exposed to the reality that we have never had more ways to talk to each other, and yet many of us feel oddly unheard.
A message can cross the world in half a second, which is great... to some extent. A thumbs-up emoji can end a conversation, or suddenly be a valid response when someone has opened themselves up to you. A voice note can replace a visit and a group chat can create 87 notifications before breakfast, most of them saying “haha” or “same”. Yeah, it's convenient but is it good for us, as humans, not machines... not really.
Real communication has started to feel like a vintage hobby, somewhere between letter writing and owning a butter dish (or even better a butter bell, great little things, support your local artisan and get yourself one!). We still communicate all day, but much of it is fast, thin and easy to misread. The worry is not that emojis exist, emojis are fun, they can lighten the mood. The worry is that we may be losing the slower skills that help us feel close to other people: listening, reading tone, sitting with silence, asking proper questions and saying what we actually mean. If you're like me, and reading tone became second nature for one reason or another, this can make online communication feel draining and difficult.
And yes, that can affect our mental health. This blog is for general information only, like all of them really. It's a chat between friends and a stop point that might make you think about something you haven't had chance to yet, it's not medical advice, but research and lived experience both suggest the same thing, good relationships are one of the strongest supports for emotional wellbeing. When our communication gets weaker, our connections can suffer too.
Instant messaging is brilliant for practical things. “Running ten minutes late.” “Can you grab milk?” “The dog has eaten something suspicious again.” These are perfect texts. No one needs a wax-sealed letter about semi-skimmed, although it might make the mundane much more exciting! Everything would feel like some sort of medieval quest. The next time I write a shopping list for someone, it's going to be a scroll...
The problem comes when we try to squeeze complicated feelings into tiny boxes.
Text strips out a lot of the information humans normally use to understand each other. We lose facial expression, posture, tone of voice, timing and the awkward little laugh that says, “I’m joking.” What is left is a line of words, sometimes fired off while walking, cooking, scrolling or standing in the queue at Tesco. That makes misunderstanding easy.
A short reply like “fine” can mean:
I am genuinely fine.
I am absolutely not fine.
I am busy and will reply properly later.
I am annoyed, but trying to seem mature.
I'm anything but fine, but am scared to open up so this seemed the safer option.
I have no idea what to say.
Without tone, the brain fills in the gaps. When we feel anxious, stressed or low, it often fills those gaps with the worst possible version. A delayed reply becomes rejection and we've all been there. It can even sometimes feel like a full stop becomes anger or a thumbs-up becomes emotional abandonment in miniature.
Emojis help, but they can only do so much. I know I over use emojis, I'm terrified of being misunderstood! For example a smiling face can soften a message, but it cannot replace the reassurance of someone’s voice or a red heart can be lovely, but it is not the same as being hugged by someone who knows you hate being told to “cheer up”.
I think this type of fast, instant communication also encourages fast reactions meaning we reply before thinking or we skim instead of listening. We fire back with a defensive message, then spend the next hour mentally drafting an apology while pretending to watch telly. Whilst the speed is useful I think clarity in communication takes a little more time.
A real conversation has texture, do you know what I mean? It has pauses and it has interruptions, eye contact, badly timed jokes and the occasional biscuit crumb incident. It somehow feels more tactile and encompassing, I suppose it gives more of our senses what they need and crave making us feel more fulfilled after them (that is if it's a positive conversation, I know some leave us drained but that's a whole other story!). A real conversation asks more from us than tapping a screen which is part of why it matters.
When we talk in person or on the phone, we practise emotional skills that do not get much exercise in message threads. We learn to notice when someone’s “I’m okay” sounds a bit too polished or you hear the quiver in their voice. We learn to give someone space to find their words and I think we learn that silence is not always a problem to fix. Sometimes it is where honesty gathers its courage, you feel the safety others are offering.
Phone calls, in particular, have become strangely controversial with many people now treat an unexpected call like a personal insult. The phone rings and the room freezes. Who is calling? Why? What do they know?
To be fair, some calls are terrible. Nobody misses being asked about an accident they definitely did not have. Anyone else get those? Sometimes they're so insistent they even get me questioning whether I was involved in an accident apparently six hours from home... maybe it was so bad I have amnesia... But calls with people we care about can do something messages cannot. A voice carries warmth, nerves, humour and sadness. There's moment when you can hear someone smile, I love that. You can hear when they are trying not to cry, don't love that so much, but knowing someone has given you their time is sometimes all the reassurance you need to see a little glimmer of positive. You can also sort out a misunderstanding in two minutes that would have taken 46 messages and three screenshots.
Meeting in person goes further still. Shared presence changes the emotional temperature. A cup of tea at the kitchen table, a walk round the park, sitting on a bench eating chips while discussing life’s disasters, these things count. They tell the nervous system, “I am not alone with this.” As the UK looses more of it's valuable mental health resources with Papyrus going into administration, this is more important than ever.
Letter writing sounds old-fashioned because, well, it is. Not going to lie, I love a letter but don't write nearly enough. Anyway, old-fashioned does not mean useless.
I think one of the most beautiful things about a letter is that it asks for effort. You have to sit down, choose your words and accept that there is no instant “send” button. You cannot fix everything with an aubergine emoji... cheeky. You have to think, your hand writing might change as you write, you might spill a little coffee on it. It's that human side fantastic! They create a physical reminder of connection with a card on the mantelpiece or a note tucked in a drawer. These small things can matter more than we admit.
That slower pace changes the message somehow a letter gives feelings room to breathe. It lets someone read your words, put them down, return to them and keep them, knowing that support exists, constantly, even at a distance. It does not vanish under two hundred newer messages.
Letters don't have to be dramatic, they can be a sentence, 'thinking of you today, I hope your feeling better. Always here', written in smudged ink and paper someone can hold. That is not dramatic. It is human.
There is also value in writing things we find hard to say aloud, how many times do you hear people say, if it's hard to talk about try writing it down, apologies, thanks, grief, love. Sometimes the page can hold what the voice cannot manage yet. If texting is a tap on the shoulder, a letter is someone pulling up a chair.
These feelings are why we started our snail mail club, and it's working. I feel connected to members I have never met, and having spoken to some they feel connected to us. They look forward to the envelope arriving, saying it's like getting news from a friend.
I think instant messaging is adding to the loneliness lots of people feel nowadays. You might not agree and that's fine but loneliness is not only about being physically alone. You can feel lonely in a busy group chat. You can feel lonely while receiving dozens of notifications. You can feel lonely when everyone is responding, but nobody is really listening and that is one of the strange problems of modern communication. We get more contact, but less depth, if you think about it, lots of tiny interactions can create the illusion of closeness without giving us the nourishment of it.
A meme from a friend can brighten the day, no complaints there, I do it, I send a meme to let someone know that even at 2pm on a Thursday this reminded me of you. But if all our relationships become jokes, reactions and half-plans that never happen, something important gets missed.
After a good conversation with real connection, you can feel nourished and feel known and understood, that means someone understands a bit of our history, our fears, our humour, our weird food opinions and the fact that we say “I’m just tired” when we are actually overwhelmed. This kind of knowing protects us. It gives us places to take our feelings before they grow teeth, which I think it so important for us and, in short, poor communication can do the opposite.
The answer is not to throw your phone into the sea, even though after the 129 spam call of the week you might want to. I'm not saying that technology is the enemy. It helps families stay close across distance, gives shy people time to find words and lets us send encouragement at the exact moment someone needs it. Digital communication can be caring, funny and real.
The point is to use it with more intention... which is the whole point of living a more considered lifestyle. I think it's important that we start choosing the right tool for the emotional weight of the message. I think it's vital we don't have arguments over text, value someone enough to say 'I care about this and don't want to make it worse by texting, can we talk later?'. Be mindful with voice notes, a friend is not just a sounding board for a seven minute one sided unload. Practice asking better questions and replying honestly.
I suppose the lost art of communication is not really lost, it been pushed to the side, maybe it's dusty, neglected, but still there and I genuinely think we can bring it back through ordinary choices.
Call someone instead of sending the fifth “we should catch up soon” message of the year. Write a birthday card with a sentence that sounds like you, not like it was approved by a greeting-card committee. Put your phone away during one meal, let a conversation have a pause without rushing to fill it with weather updates.
Maybe try if you are worried about someone, say so gently, or if you appreciate someone, tell them before their leaving do... If you need support, try giving one person a real version of the truth rather than broadcasting a tiny edited version to everyone.
The modern world can make us feel like machines, we're surrounded by them and encouraged to integrate them more int our daily lives, which has it's place, in balance. But we are not built to live on read receipts and reaction emojis alone, we need voices, faces, shared rooms, patient listening and words that took a little effort.
So send the text, use the emoji, and enjoy the meme. But every now and then, make the call, knock on the door, write the note or sit across from someone and let the conversation be a bit messy.
That mess is where humans thrive.
Comments