A few weeks ago, I called a gas delivery company to get a refill for our portable, gas heater. I know enough French to express that I don't know French, and was soon connected with someone who speaks English. The delivery guy would be here within the hour.
That hour passed rather nervously for me, and it's because a man I don't know was going to come to my house, and I was going to have to be present while saying almost nothing because I don't know enough words.
When he arrived, he disengaged the empty tank with his wrench, and installed the new tank while I stood around doing nothing, saying nothing. Those are trying times for me, because if we spoke the same language, a few lines of small talk would have filled in that gap very tidily. I would have woven words around myself, covered myself up with them: a dreamy, big scarf.
As it was, I stood, completely present—a person and present—whether or not I wanted to be. I felt both ridiculous and real. So I've thought about it, and I find I have a few main uses for words:
1. I can hide using words. One day, a long time ago, when I first started to hate my body (it's been a love-hate relationship ever since), I began to think that if I just kept talking, no one would see me. I can make a joke, and suddenly it's not that I'm beautiful, but that you see something other than sweatpants-uncombed-Saturday-morning me.
2. I can make peace using words. Because of my high anxiety about Trump being president, I find myself talking about morals rather more often than usual. I find myself answering long messages on Facebook and on WhatsApp from equally anxious people, but anxious from another perspective. (And the perspectives I trust admit to being complicated.) So far, we've disengaged while remaining friends.
3. I can teach you how to use words using words. But only to a point. Teaching is hard, but it's getting better and better.
No comments:
Post a Comment