People Talk to Me

As I look back over my life, I realize that people have always confided in me. For as long as I can remember. I am perplexed by it a bit. On the one hand, I know that I am an extremely private person. Not that I won't gossip ("if you can't say something nice, come sit by me"), but when I'm told something in confidence, I am actually very good at keeping that confidence. At most, I will ask advice on the matter from someone I trust, but am always careful to not disclose the identity of the individual in question, or even clues to that identity. 

But I'm also a talker, quick with an opinion, sure that my advice should be followed.  I actually put some effort in just listening ("active listening" as my mission president's wife said 20+ years ago), but I just can't ever seem to follow the "we have two ears and one mouth so we can listen twice as much" philosophy.  Yet still my friends have always seemed to gravitate to me.

And the trajectory of, and decisions I've made throughout, my life have been less than optimal.  There really isn't arguing that point.  Of course, sometimes that can set people at ease.  I mean, given the state of my life, I think that it would be hard not to feel that no matter how bad their problem, they are still better off than me.

At the end of the day, maybe it's simply because they know I love and care about them.  For all my epic failures as a man in particular and a human being in general, I have two genuinely positive traits:  First, when I care about someone, I make sure they know it without doubt.  Second, I'm loyal.  Maybe that's enough.

Whatever the reasons, I'm grateful for it.  Far from ever feeling it a burden, the confidence and trust of those close to me gives my life what meaning it has.  I have a sense of usefulness and feel needed.  And that's a good thing when one otherwise sees little else to make life of interest.