Left Speechless

There is something quite surreal about sitting at a table, surrounded by a conversation you cannot contribute to. Left speechless as you become lost in a language you do not speak, clawing on to the occasional word you can comprehend, only to have your brain slowly give up its strength to continue listening.

Surprisingly, at the age of 30, I did not think that I would be reliant on learning a language just to regain normality in my life. To regain the confidence to order a coffee or exchange banter in a supermarket aisle.

Losing the ability to speak is one thing, but losing the ability to be understood has become one of my greatest challenges.

Suddenly, I'm a child again. Dependent on others to be my voice, my ears, my filter of the world. I've since lost the ability to interrupt the cues I once depended on: comedic timing, the implied meanings, and the ability to see the real message behind the words.

In English, I know the rules of the game and I know how to play it.

Whereas in French, I've found myself thrust onto a field with no idea what game we are even playing.

I try to follow the lead of others, nodding along, offering the occasional 'oui', 'non', or 'merci' in conversation. Undoubtedly hoping that my small contributions are enough. That people will respond with patience. That these moments will fuel my desire to learn.

And most of the time, they do.

Communication has always been one of my greatest strengths. However the pain of a strength becoming a weakness is a different kind of vulnerability.

As I've recently discovered, the challenge is not meeting the expectations of others, it's managing the expectations I have of myself.

I have learnt that I am comfortable sucking at something new.

But sucking at something I once excelled at? That's a different game entirely.

It cuts deeper. The self-pressure is heavier. It chips away at your confidence.

Exaggerating the fear of failing publicly, until even the thought of trying to speak leaves your mouth sealed shut. It feels like playing with one hand tied behind your back, and for someone who demands the best of themselves, that is a tough pill to swallow.

But maybe… stomaching that pill makes you stronger? Maybe losing this previous strength is an invitation to become a better communicator.  Someone who knows what it feels like to be misunderstood, who learns to practice patience, and who recognises how deeply we desire others to truly hear us.

Because once you've felt the isolation of being at a crowded table, left speechless and unable to express yourself…

It's difficult to look at connection the same way again.
To take it for granted like you once did.

Maybe this challenge is not just about mastering a new language.
Maybe it's about rediscovering the value of being understood.