For a long time, I believed communication could solve nearly anything.
If two people cared enough, tried hard enough, and spoke honestly enough, reality would eventually emerge.
A misunderstanding could be clarified. A conflict could be resolved. A relationship could be repaired.
And sometimes that is true.
But over time, I noticed a pattern. Certain conversations seemed to produce less clarity, not more. The more words were exchanged, the harder reality became to see.
At first, this broke a pattern in me. I was a firm believer that communication was supposed to bring people closer to the truth.
What I slowly discovered was that communication serves many purposes.
It can reveal reality. It can also preserve an image.
Communication assumes both people are in reality.
When one person is unwilling or unable to see what is happening, more communication does not create truth.
It often creates distance from truth. Not because anyone is necessarily lying. Not because anyone is necessarily malicious.
But because image management and truth-seeking are often competing activities.
Some conversations are attempts to understand what is true. Others are attempts to protect a version of oneself.
The difference matters.
At first, this was difficult for me to accept. It felt responsible to keep explaining. It felt mature to keep trying. It felt compassionate to keep giving reality another chance to become visible. The more I paid attention, the more often I found the same instinct in myself.
But eventually I began to notice the cost.
Communication can become a way of postponing action. A way of extending ambiguity. A way of negotiating with something that has already become clear.
The conversation continues. The pattern remains. The explanation improves.
Reality does not change.
What I once called patience was sometimes hesitation. What I once called communication was sometimes avoidance. Not avoidance of another person. Avoidance of what I already knew.
The most painful truths in my life rarely arrived all at once.
They arrived slowly.
As patterns.
As repetitions.
As things my body noticed before my mind agreed.
The temptation was always the same: One more conversation. One more explanation. One more attempt to make reality visible. What I discovered was that reality does not require agreement in order to be real.
It only requires recognition.
And once reality has been recognized, communication is no longer the primary strategy.
Orientation is.
Not:
“How do I explain this?”
But:
“What am I going to do now that I see it?”
Where are you using communication to avoid acting on what you already know?
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