Say what you need to say

“You’d better know that in the end
It’s better to say too much
Than never to say what you need to say again”

-John Mayer

Ok I actually find that song a little annoying, just because the chorus, “Say what you need to say” is repeated 8 times in a row and never seems to end.

BUT the lyrics are really great, and remind me of a little story I want to tell you…

It was 2017 and I was on day three of a three-day workshop (a workshop for personal growth, or self-help, or whatever term you want to use…). It was one of those workshops that brings people together who want to transform their lives, break out of old habits and limiting beliefs, and create brighter futures for themselves and their communities. And this is done by forcing participants to get real and get vulnerable about what is holding them back in life.

I watched as the workshop facilitator stood in front of the room, looking into the eyes of each participant as she spoke. She was telling us to think about the conversations we know we need to have with the people in our lives, the conversations that we couldn’t even imagine having because of how uncomfortable it would make us feel.

“Now what’s holding you back from having that conversation?” she asked, with piercing eyes and a commanding tone. The room fell silent.

I thought about some conversations I needed to have with family members, if I wanted to really transform my relationship with them. I thought about my brother, and how we never really talked after I left for college, and then I moved to a different continent which made not-talking to each other even easier. It was the same with both of my siblings, but I never really thought twice about it, because it’s just how things always were. “We’re just not really a close family in that way,” I told myself, even though I’d see people have great friendships with their siblings and wish it was like that with us. I wanted my brother and sister to see me as a friend, someone they could talk to about anything and confide in.

When I thought about talking to my siblings about it, though, I immediately dismissed the idea. “That just sounds awkward,” I thought to myself, “we don’t talk to each other like that,” “what would I even say?”

The workshop facilitator addressed the thoughts that were popping up in my head, and likely in the heads of all participants. And then she said something that struck me.

“The only thing holding you back from having the conversation is this — (and she made the gesture of picking up a phone and putting it to her ear) — picking up the phone.”

That was an aha moment for me. I thought about how all of the things I told myself were preventing the conversation from happening, were literally all just thoughts — abstract things that don’t even exist. The idea that “we’re just not that kind of family” is just a story I was telling myself my entire life, a story that I was allowing to shape a reality that I didn’t want. The only thing actually preventing the conversation from happening was that I was not physically picking up the phone to call my siblings.

So then the facilitator gave us a break to go in the hallways and make the phone calls that we were all dreading.

There was an anxious energy in the air as the participants got out their phones and looked for secluded spots to make their calls. My palms were sweaty and I looked around, wondering if I could just hide out in the bathroom until the break was over. Can I just skip this assignment? I thought to myself.

I took a deep breath and thought about what the facilitator said — about how the thoughts and stories we tell ourselves are not necessarily reality — and how we can create a new reality once we decide to move beyond the beliefs that are holding us back. Even if doing so is scary.

I dialed my brother’s number. My heart pounded as it rang and I prayed it would go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

Ugh.

“Hey, it’s Natalie,” I stuttered. “I’m at this workshop thing and they’re telling us to call people we want to talk to.”

*awkward pause*

“Ok?”

*deep breath*

Then I blurted out something along the lines of: “Basically, I wanted to tell you that I just wish we had a better relationship. Like you know how people are friends with their siblings? I feel like we never talk or see each other and I’d like to be friends. Like I want you to feel like you can come to me if you have problems and stuff.”

I was so worried he’d say something like “umm…ok?” but instead he said —

“Yeah, I’d like that.” (I was shocked) “Yeah, I’m not really sure why we don’t. I guess our family’s just not really like that.”

As he spoke, it felt like a literal weight was being lifted off my shoulders. I couldn’t believe that not only did he not reject me, but it sounded like he felt the same way. I felt like my heart was opening up and I was seeing my life transform before my eyes.

On that phone call, we agreed to keep in touch more, and we ended up having a regular phone call every single week. We learned more about each other’s lives on those calls than we did in the past decade. To this day, we can confide in each other, and I would even go as far as to say that we’re friends.

The phone calls I made during the workshop transformed my relationship with everyone I called for the better. Whereas I feared rejection going into every call, what shocked me most was that everyone was open to what I had to say. As cheesy as it sounds, I think it’s because I was speaking from my heart. Humans are generally empathetic creatures who feel similar emotions, so when you let yourself be vulnerable and share how you feel, people can relate to it because they’ve felt those same emotions at some point. Whether it’s fear, shame, guilt, or anger, we’ve all felt it at some point, we might just not have had the same experiences. And even if you do let yourself be vulnerable and tell someone how you feel and you don’t get the result you were hoping for, it’s likely that you’d have more regret if you never took the chance in the first place, because then you’d always be wondering, what if? and settling for a less-than-ideal reality.

The energy in the workshop shifted after that break. I spoke to people who had much more difficult conversations, with much more on the line than I did, and every single person was both excited, relieved, and also confused about what this now meant for their future. We all had to get used to the idea of living in a new reality — this reality that we just created for ourselves through the simple act of just picking up the phone.

“Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open…”

The song “Say” by John Mayer was written for the film The Bucket List, which, if you haven’t seen it, is about two men with terminal illnesses who decide to make the most of their remaining time on Earth taking risks and living life to the fullest. It’s a nice reminder that, even if you don’t have a terminal illness, life on Earth is finite, so why not live it up, on your own terms — and have the conversations that you know you need to have in order to do so?