There’s someone* I’ve considered a pretty good friend for a while now…I’d say for a good 2-3 years or so. She’s the sort of person I want to spend time with, enjoy swapping office design/tool tidbits with. In fact, when I knew I’d be in her neck of the woods while on vacation a month ago, I sent her a text to let her know and arranged a time to stop by her office.
The strangest thing happened. She spoke with an accent that I don’t at all recall.
You probably think I’m a little nuts, now. How could someone be a “pretty good friend” when I don’t even know what they sound like? I know. I had the same question. As I sat in her office, it took me a few seconds to sort through this very unexpected discovery. How did I not remember her voice? I mean, seriously, how? I like her style, I like her vibe (and not in some trendy sounding way–I really do like her vibe). I like her honesty–it’s incredibly refreshing. When I think of her, I think of someone I have much to learn from while still being able to simply hang out. So let me ask this question again: How on earth did I not remember her voice?
Well, because the last time we talked was maybe 3 years ago and before that it was several months to a year, back to the time when we first actually met. So in total, I’ve seen her three times. The first time was roughly a 3-day span during a conference and the last two times, it’s been for less than an hour. All the other times we’ve interacted have been through Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest and her blog. We’ve not talked on the phone that I can recall. Oh! there was that other time maybe 2.5 years ago when we interacted over a 2-day span. Yeah, I think that’s it.
So no, I don’t know her voice, not her speaking voice. I do know her words, her pictures, her passion, her devotion. I know some of the causes she’ll champion, the people she’ll fight for. I know her vulnerability, her bravery. I know who some of her family is and even close friends. (I know this sounds stalker-ish…bare with me.) I know enough of her life to help me believe I can trust her. And even after discovering that I don’t know her that well, after all, I still believe I can trust her.
Consistency. What she gives is what she gives consistently. I know, right, who am I to even draw that conclusion? We’re not even good friends! I know! Yet I’m quite sure that I’m right. I’m quite sure that if I talked to her sister, I’d hear the same thing.
I don’t see myself as that person, though I’m getting closer. The compartmentalized MO is wasted energy. More than that, it speaks to insecurities I’d much rather surrender. Will I one day be free of insecurities all together? I don’t know and that’s not exactly my goal. My goal is one face, one refreshing face, and a voice I fully recognize.
*If you read this and discover that it’s you, please forgive my weirdness. 🙂