The art of listening. To each other.

It’s more difficult conversing with my friend Julie. Than talking to Julie’s husband Rick. For an obvious reason. Julie is an alcoholic and in a continual depressive state. Yes, Julie is mentally ill. She needs help. Psychotherapy and other forms of treatment. I share some of my written thoughts. By email. Almost daily. With Rick and Julie.  The exact same stuff goes to each of them. Rick reads my emails. And sometimes offers comment. It’s called a dialogue. A productive give and take. Julie takes a different approach. She ignores the emails. Though that doesn’t stop me. From talking to Julie. Almost every day. In a sense, I try to force-feed Julie. To bring her into the realm of open-mindedness. Sometimes it works. Other times it doesn’t. Julie puts up resistance. She loves to live in denial. She retreats. Seldom wants to confront me, or anyone. Not even herself. Sometimes, she runs away. And says she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.  ‘That’s all right,’ I tell Julie. ’But please tell me what you have to say.  I want to understand. I prefer a dialogue. But I’m also willing to listen. To your monologue.’ --Jim Broede