Honestly, this week felt like a bit of a grind when it came to just connecting with folks. You know that feeling, right? Like you’re going through the motions, saying the right things, but nothing really sticks? It wasn’t a bad week, not at all, but there was this quiet hum of… disconnectedness. Like everyone, myself included, was just operating on autopilot.
So, I started picking at it. Like I always do. My brain just naturally goes there, looking for the cracks in the pavement, the little things that are off kilter. I saw myself, just as much as anyone else, nodding along, half-listening, already mentally prepping my next sentence instead of truly soaking in what was being said. And it hit me: if I’m doing it, chances are others are too. It felt like we were all just skimming the surface of each other’s lives.
I thought about it a bunch over a couple of long nights. It wasn’t about big arguments or falling outs; it was this subtle erosion, this quiet drifting. And I just didn’t like it. So, I figured, “Alright, enough picking it apart in my head. Let’s just do something about it.” That was my “Go!” moment, I guess. I decided this week, I’d try to actually, properly, truly listen and engage with people, every single time. Not just for a second, but for the whole damn interaction. It sounds simple, right? But man, it’s harder than you think.
Putting It Into Practice
My first target was my usual morning coffee run. You know the barista, the one who always asks “How’s it going?” and you automatically spit out “Good, you?” I decided to break that cycle. When she asked, I paused. I looked her in the eye, and instead of the usual quick answer, I actually told her, “You know, it’s a bit early for me, still getting my brain in gear, but I’m looking forward to that first sip. How’s your morning starting?”
And then I actually waited. And listened. She blinked, kind of smiled, and started telling me about a super early rush they’d had. Nothing earth-shattering, but it was a conversation. I didn’t rush it. I found myself asking a follow-up, “Oh really? Was it a surprise?” Just that little bit, maybe thirty extra seconds, and the whole vibe shifted. She actually seemed, I don’t know, seen? It was a tiny thing, but it felt good. Felt… real.
Later that day, I had a call with a buddy. We usually just dive straight into work stuff, buzz through it, and then hang up. Same old, same old. But I told myself, no, not this time. So, before we even opened the project file, I just asked, “Hey, how was your weekend, really? Anything interesting happen?”
- He paused, surprised, I could tell.
- Then he launched into this story about trying to fix his leaky faucet and completely flooding his kitchen.
- He was laughing, frustrated, telling me all the details.
- Normally, I’d be trying to steer it back to work, thinking about the clock.
But I didn’t. I just kept asking questions. “No way, how’d you even manage that?” “What did your wife say?” And for a good ten minutes, we weren’t colleagues, we were just two guys shooting the breeze about a screw-up. It felt completely different. The work call after that? It still happened, but it felt easier, lighter. Like we were on the same team, not just on the same project.
Then came the bigger test: a dinner with some family. Usually, it’s a lot of parallel conversations, people on their phones, everyone a bit distracted. I made a conscious effort to put my own phone away, face down, and just be present. When my niece was telling me about her school play, I didn’t just nod. I leaned in. I asked her about her lines, how she felt on stage, even what kind of costume she had. And I heard her. Properly heard her. I saw her eyes light up.
It wasn’t rocket science, and it wasn’t a magic wand. There were still moments where my mind drifted, where I caught myself wanting to check a notification. But I pushed through it. I actively pulled myself back. I reminded myself of the goal: true connection, one interaction at a time. It felt clunky sometimes, almost forced, like I was acting. But the more I did it, the less it felt like an act and the more it felt… natural.
The Takeaway
What I learned this week from all this focused effort, this “Go!” moment, is that connection isn’t something that just happens. It’s built, piece by piece, by choosing to show up for each other, fully. It’s in the pause, in the intentional question, in the act of genuinely listening without an agenda. It’s in letting go of your own next thought for a moment and just inhabiting the space with the other person.
It made me realize that my “love life” – and I mean that in the biggest sense of all my relationships, not just romantic – it thrives on attention. On the little details. On the simple, consistent choice to really be there. It’s about consciously nurturing those everyday moments, making them count. And frankly, it felt pretty damn good to break that autopilot cycle.
