Blogging Everyday in July|About Interrupting

I feel as though my life has been interrupted abruptly.  But it’s my fault, really.  I got used to being treated a certain way, used to a certain lifestyle, used to a certain version of respect.  But I interrupted it.

One thing that I’ve noticed here in the South is that people don’t really listen.  Not all people,  but a lot of people.  Why do I say this?  Because it’s a land of interrupters.  I don’t speak  or tell stories because I like the sound of my voice.  It’s a bonding experience.  Stories build community.  But most of the time when I have something to say I am cut off, because someone else has an opinion.  Or even better, because they weren’t listening at all.  I can be in conversation with someone else, and instead of waiting for me to finish, people will interrupt.  Like I don’t matter.  Where I’m from, that’s disrespectful.  You only do it if you have no manners, or if you really don’t care what a person has to say.  And it’s something that I hate.

When I want to speak with someone, and I see that they’re already in conversation with someone else, I will stand and wait.  Unless it’s something time sensitive.  Which it rarely is.  But maybe it’s just because I’m timid.

At work I’ll be helping a guest and another one will walk up and start asking questions.  These people don’t know each other.  And they don’t know me.  How did they reach adulthood and not learn to wait in line?  Wait your freakin’ turn.

There’s a coworker that ignores and interrupts me, no matter what I’m saying.  Even if I’m trying to explain a work situation.  Then I’ll get phone calls later, when I’m at home, because I was interrupted when passing on information.  Literally, listen when people are speaking.

I can be hanging out with my friends here and start telling a funny story or sharing some information about myself, and someone else will just start talking.  Like I don’t matter.  Like I wasn’t just saying something.  It makes me feel as though they don’t have any desire to get to know me.  And they don’t really know me now.  Obviously.  I haven’t been here long enough for anyone to know me.

And I’m trying not to to take offense.  Because I don’t think that they mean anything by it.  I was just raised a certain way.  I grew up a certain way.  My heart just feels disrespected.  Sick of the interruptions.

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