Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn't.

Erica Jong

54/100

I've been thinking a great deal about when to speak and when to *not* insert myself into a conversation. As a natural extrovert, it's hard not to jump in to conversations. Part of what makes me good at my job is my ease with people - my ability to connect and communicate. Although I have been told I don't know how to listen and I'm not a good communicator, I believe the guy who said that is wrong. I believe I do communicate well. I think, however, that in the process of communicating, at times, I find myself giving 'advice'...

Do most people really want advice? I ask my sister for advice all the time, but until I am really ready to hear it she might as well talk to a wall. Because when I ask Margaret for advice? The truth is? I already know the answer I am just not ready to hear it. My most recent foray into a relationship is the perfect example. My sister told me what she saw, I told her that things had changed. Things hadn't changed. I just wished they had. I *wished* things had changed. I *wished* I was finally appreciated. I *wished* the future was what I had always hoped it would be. But they hadn't, I wasn't, and on some level I knew it wouldn't. I held on for a while but finally let go. As soon as I was ready? All that advice my sister gave me? Yeah. It all made sense. But the key is that it wasn't information I didn't already have inside.

Here is the thing. I think I seek advice when I have stopped trusting myself. Because I knew. I KNEW that as much as I *wished* things were different? They weren't. When I look back on my life, I got the most screwed up when I started asking everyone around me for advice. Once, several years ago, I was crazy for a guy. But I knew... bad idea. For many reasons. But I kept spiraling down, down, down. Until one day? My sister walked into my office. I looked at her and said, "Marge, just tell me what to do." She looked at me. I started crying. Because I knew. And there wasn't anything she could tell me that even from the pit of my denial, I couldn't already see.

When I stop trusting myself, I get lost. I take that *first* small step off of my truth and justify it. Addicts do it all the time, I'll use food addiction. I tell myself  I'll just go to that favorite restaurant to hang with my friends. I won't eat my favorite dessert! I'll have just a salad. Then I get to the restaurant, and my favorite appetizer is on the menu, well I'll just *share* it with everyone. Well, I can have the Halibut because it's JUST fish... Oh and my sister ordered my favorite dessert so I'll just have ONE bite. Next thing I know? I have eaten more than HALF of it. Each little step off of my path leads me farther and farther away from my core truth. It's one thing when it's trying to resist a favorite dessert. It's another when each little step takes me farther and farther away from a core sense of self that leaves me empty and lost when I turn to myself for advice.

I can almost always tell when I am stepping off my path. And I am getting better and better at stopping myself before I fall head first down the cliff. I still struggle like hell sometimes. Like tonight, when really? I want to eat the entire damn fridge. But I don't. I'm sure it is the smell of that apple butter permeating my entire house. It smells SO good and warm bread with warm apple butter is pretty much the only thing I can thing about.

Which means it's time for sleep. And time to listen to my own advice. Which apparently? Is the best person I should be taking advice from...
:).

Peace,

MaryKate