Communication: Urban Legend?

Last night emerged from my house at 10:30 p.m. to find four people exchanging angry words. The cause of the heated debate? A dispute regarding a proposed addition to a neighbour's house.

Ended up mediating to some extent today over the phone. Ironic that I once thought (and subsequently discarded the idea) of psychiatristy as a career. People, even complete strangers, seem to find the need to confide in me. Why??!!

In any event, I realised today that maybe I'm a bit too touchy feely for some people. In my old age, I've discovered the need to constantly clear the air and to try to establish open communication. I think most people are fairly resistant to this approach however.

When I was younger, and far more embittered, I thought that communication was an impossible and unattainable goal. Each person was destined to be an island unto themselves, with no possibility of catching a ferry to and from said island.

The very idea of communication is somewhat problematic:

If I say something to you, how can I ensure that you've understood exactly what I've said? You can repeat it verbatim, in which case, I can't be sure if you've derived any meaning from it, or if you are simply parroting me. You can reiterate it using your own words, but then it would be subject to my interpretation, and how to ensure I was correct in my assumptions? I'd then have to ensure that I understood that you understood what I was initially saying by what method?

So how does communication work exactly? If we feel that we are indeed communicating, are we deluded, or is it, a possible phenomenon?

I like to think that I have a good understanding of what someone is saying. I like to think that I'm a fairly good listener. I like to think also that I take into account certain cues, (like body language, eye contact, tonal changes, to name a few), when trying to assess a person's feelings and intentions. But the truth of the matter is that it's all just second guessing. Maybe I just don't want to believe that I'm anything but a sensitive person who can read other people's cues.

We all just walk through life and hope for the best. Hope that we understand those who speak to us, hope that we haven't offended those who are in our lives, and hope that if we have, they speak up about it and that we understand what they are trying to say to us.

It's interesting when I read books with my children, and I ask them what they think a character in the book is thinking or feeling. It seems that children have an understanding of only a few basic emotions -- the primary ones, generally. Feelings of sadness, anger or happiness and perhaps pain (although only in reference to the physical) are invariably mentioned. Very rarely do you hear a child comment that someone may be feeling proud, satisfied, content, empty, desolate, alone, frustrated, annoyed, etc. Come to think of it, so many people I've met (men especially) seem to be in the dark about these more complex secondary emotions. How does one refine one's understanding of the vast range of human emotions? Is it instinctive or learned?

I've had the benefit of having been raised in a household that was somewhat dysfunctional (mind you, what family to certain extents isn't?) Survival was somewhat dependent upon honing one's ability to read the atmosphere upon entry. If the air felt charged with negative energy, you got out ASAP, or tread very carefully. As an adult, I find it very difficult to function within a situation fraught with tension. Hence, my predilection for trying to have open discussions and meet any problems head on.

I spent an hour on the phone with my neighbours trying to get them to think objectively in terms of how their past negative interactions with each other might have some kind of impact on their actions today. I felt completely ineffective in my role, particularly they kept reiterating was how much of an asshole the other was being. I guess maybe it's a good thing I chose not to enter into psychiatry after all all.