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Even before you get out of bed in the morning, what you’re thinking may be more interesting than what you say in most conversation:
"I can’t bear to get on the scale...Should I call in sick?...I love coffee...and a danish. No. Maybe. If I drink the coffee black... I hate how biased the media is...I wish my grandfather would die already. I can't let myself think that. ...I wonder what it would be like to stare at flowers for a whole day... Am I an imposter?...We’re having sex less often and I don’t seem to care... Sometimes I don’t like people...at all. That ringing in my ears is getting louder. What’s that about?...I’m doing too much weed. I like weed. It’s bad for me. I need to have some fun and I don’t have the energy on the weekend to do more than vape while watching TV. I vape too much. I should get out. I don’t want to go to that party. I’m afraid they’ll think I’m boring. I’m not boring."
Most of us just let such thoughts flit in and out, never thinking hard about them, let alone telling anyone about them, even those closest to us.
But imagine that you reflected a bit on your interior flits, perhaps in a journal, with a close friend, or even, heaven forbid, a not-close friend. At a party, wouldn’t you rather hear some near-stranger musing on one of the above than about their child’s bar-mitzvah, their trip to Mexico, the local sports team’s “big” win or loss, or why they hate (or love) President Trump?
Or how about planning a weekend away with friends or your romantic partner in which, at least for part of the time, you speak about the unspoken?
Might you even consider writing publicly about your interiority? Indeed, that’s a hallmark of great literature. Coming to mind are Hamlet, Lady Macbeth, Moll Flanders (professional thief) Joyce’s Portrait of an Artist as Young Man, Plath’s The Bell Jar, and Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury. Maybe you’d just write a blog post or flash-fiction, or go all the way and write the Great American Novel about a protagonist whose expressed interiority puts him or her in increasing conflict with “normal” people.
Of course, a case can be made for interiority remaining interior. Discussing such things could be more interesting to you than to a conversation partner. Your negative disclosures could be used against you. You may be discussing sore points that have no solution. You’re merely opening a wound that can’t heal when, to mix a metaphor, it might be wiser to let sleeping dogs lie.
The takeaway
We’re too concerned about looking good, physically and otherwise. Just look at our Facebook profiles; It makes us all seem so damn peachy-keen. And if our work competence matched our LinkedIn profiles, America would be the amazing country (“American Exceptionalism”) we claim it is.
I believe we’d feel better about ourselves, develop more authentic relationships, have more interesting conversations, and grow more if we mined more of our interiority.
