The Person Behind The Person…
When someone speaks, we often only hear the surface.
The tidy sentences.
The version of themselves they think will be accepted.
There is always more than the words though.
Beneath the words is a life that was carried:
The constant small disappointments that sit heavily in the chest,
The ever aging ache of unmet longing that tightens the throat,
The quiet felt hope they can’t quite articulate in words.
We don’t just bring language to the room.
We bring how we feel in our bodies.
A hurried or held breath. A long pause. Hesitation and apprehension.
We bring the history that shaped the shape of our sentences.
Fear.
Real listening leans toward the underneath… because it’s often that part that’s trying to speak.
It doesn’t just take the words at face value.
It notices the rhythms, the hesitations, the things not finished.
It asks, with attention not interrogation, what have you carried long enough that I can help you lay down?
When the room isn’t safe, people edit themselves.
They shorten their story to fit the room.
They push down parts that feel risky to bring.
They learn which pieces of them will be allowed and which will not.
But when the room is safe, everything changes.
They relax into the conversation.
The mask loosens.
Pieces that have been boxed away come back into reach.
They bring the things they’ve hidden:
the fear they thought would make them feel small,
the grief, doubts and insecurities they thought would scare you off,
the hope they were ashamed to name.
You don’t fix those things. You receive them.
You hold them with steadiness, give them your time, not hurry.
You let them be what they are: fragile, hurt, human, real.
And when those hidden parts are met with care, when safety is felt…
The mask drops. The person behind the person steps forward.
They reconnect with pieces long hidden and place them in the room.
Not so you can fix them, but so they can be seen, tended to, and let go of.
So when you listen,
don’t just listen for the story they tell.
Listen for the life that made them.
Listen for the person they’re still becoming.
Because behind every voice
is someone longing
to be heard as they truly are, and want to be.
It’s In that quiet work of real listening that they find themselves again.
They feel connected to who they are, who they could be… and to you.