Creating great entrepreneurial stories doesn’t happen by chance.
Sure, writing skill is part of the equation but sifting through back stories take more than just the ability to mark coherent words on paper.
One needs cognitive and emotional empathy to be able to recognize particular events and situations in people’s lives that strike a chord in the heart of readers .
But marrying empathy with word skill doesn’t come easy.
There is a trade-off. In simple terms, one needs to sacrifice one to get the other.
To develop true empathy, you need to have a flaw, a chink in the armor, a handicap.
I am not referring to quirky, cute, sometimes irritating but generally benign human flaws. I am talking about flaws that are so debilitating that these affect nearly all areas of one’s life.
My major handicap is one that people can’t see or easily understand.
SARCASM OF FATE
You see there is a bit of irony in my life.
I’ve been composing text for publication and interviewing business personalities for years. Yet, I cannot seem to be able to make decent small talk to save my life or my relationships.
Yes, small talk, the so called ordinary activity that most people easily engage in without giving it much thought.
It’s that meaningful chatter you have with someone between your big events and work. That is still important because that builds and maintains good relationships.
Although I know the value of mundane conversations, I still am unable to get my brain and heart to work together to accomplish this simple task. I call it a task because it doesn’t come naturally to me.
I sometimes wonder how some people can easily slide into cozy conversation with anyone. While I get this twinge of anxiety and panic attacks before sitting down next to someone and filling the air with chatter.
Social occassions are especially awkward moments for me. People are often surprised to learn that I often feel uncomfortable in groups or around strangers. They’ve seen me talk in webinars and can’t imagine someone who’s not afraid to speak could be shy and nervous around people.
The truth is that speaking in a webinar is easy once you get used to it. People forget that it’s scripted, which means the web environment is controlled.
My social anxiety could have stem from past experiences. But this is compounded by the fact that my job deals mainly with creating good public personas and developing ideal scenarios which are all within my control.
A real life social situation has too many variables. I can’t control how people react to what I have to say and do nor can I sustain the public persona I believe I am expected to project.
Everything came to a head when a particular traumatic incident triggered a load of anxiety and apprehension that overwhelmed me. It made perceptible cracks in my otherwise perfectly made facade. Nothing went the way I expected and things rapidly went south.
The anxiety attacks strained my relationships with people who couldn’t understand why I am unable to relax and enjoy the moment.
Exasperated friends told me that I had to learn to tame imaginary demons by myself. And even more painful is the one person I thought would stay for the long haul left.
STORMING HEAVEN
I couldn’t understand then why I have this handicap. I was depressed and blamed God for my circumstance.
Indeed, I had an issue with Him . I didn’t mince words when it came to giving my opinion about how He has been ignoring my pleas. I even had the audacity to continually rant at Him about the unfairness of it all. And in moments when I’m alone in my room, I gave Him long tirades about me getting the short end of the stick and questioned why I had to go through the pain.
“What exactly do you want from me ?!”, I asked, muffling a silent scream inside me. “Please don’t give me cryptic answers, ambiguous messages, riddles or symbols because I am not as smart as you !”
I remembered throwing pillows, punching the bed, sobbing, bawling while covering my mouth with my hands so no one else could hear me as I crumpled to the floor.
To get through the succeeding days, I decided to shut down all emotions in order to keep myself sane and functional.
FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT
I distinctly remember that day when i had my epifany.
I was in Bohol to cover the opening ceremony of a trade fair at the Island City Mall organized by my office.
I casually went down the concrete stairs of the dormitel where I was staying. I wasn’t in a hurry and tread the steps as I normally would. But as I stepped on the middle tread level, it seemed like I had stepped on air. There was no longer any solid surface I could land on. Was it my myopic eyes deceiving me or was I imagining this? I couldn’t be sure. And since that part of the stairs did not have banisters I could hold on to, I fell and hit my forehead at the concrete tread edge and I started bleeding profusely.
With blood spurting and covering my face, I gradually slipped in and out of consciousness. All I could hear was someone screaming; steps scurrying towards me; and voices of panic and alarm.
With blood now tainting my dress, I felt arms carrying me towards the sofa. Someone pressed a towel to my forehead to stop the bleeding.
I wasn’t scared. I remembered saying to myself that if this was how everything ends, I was fine with that. Dying didn’t seem such a bad option.
The ambulance arrived and I was transferred to a stretcher. As they brought me outside towards the hospital vehicle, I noticed that the sky was a brilliant blue and the grass was a bright, vivid green.
Normally, I don’t believe in paranormal stories; but this was something highly unusual for me. My first reaction was to say how beautiful the sky and the grass looked. The nurses must have thought I was hallucinating. But I also had this overwhelming feeling of assurance that I was going to be fine.
I don’t know much about telepathy. But if it means the direct transference of thought from one entity to another without using the usual sensory channels of communication, then I had just received my first telepathic message.
I smiled when I remembered begging God not to give me vague messages. Well, the message I just received was as clear as broad daylight. I got a clear imprint that everything will soon be okay.
The ambulance nurse checked my eyes on the way to the hospital to see if these were hurt by the fall. While they were doing that, my eyes surveyed the inside of the hospital vehicle. My body felt like someone else was taking over the driver’s seat, while I took the backseat — quite unsettling and strange.
I would never think of looking at objects inside a vehicle while I’m in pain . But then again a mischievous, gentle entity seems to be taking over my body. Is it my angel ? I can’t be sure but the physical pain gradually subsided.
The entity looked (not me since she controls where I look) at the hospital surroundings with glee like a first time tourist while I was hurriedly wheeled towards the operating room.
Perversely, the entity was also thrilled to see the operating room with the nurses and doctor waiting. “Cool, this looks like a scene in a movie.” This was the impression I got from her.
Outside the operating room were my 2 officemates. One was allowed inside to calm me down and assist me.
The doctor had a quick look at my wound and said “this is wide and deep. We can’t use a bandage for this . We will have to stitch her.”
One nurse ask me to sign a consent form prior to surgery. Another wanted to place a hep-lock on me. I objected or rather the entity in me objected using my voice. I don’t argue with nurses and doctors.
“No, Doc, she is fine. She doesn’t need a hep-lock or dextrose!”
So it’s her talking in the 3rd person, I said to myself. This feels out of this world…somewhere between sleep and wakefullness; definitely something beyond any normal experience.
I felt like an onlooker. Who are you?, I asked the interloper. What is happening to me ? Am I going insane?
“No, no, no hep-lock, Doc, no dextrose ! Not good, not good, Doc,” she insists.
Seeing I was now in distress and with more blood oozing out of the wound, the doctor finally told the nurses crowding around me to back off.
“Will an anesthesia be okay for you then? I will use an injection and cream”, the doctor asked.
The entity calmed down and nodded .
Ok, he said and proceeded to apply the anesthesia. He covers my face with a white cloth exposing only the gaping tear on my forehead.
“Don’t move he is starting to stitch your wound,” my officemate said.
Well, what stitch pattern is he using? Back stitch or cross stitch ?, the entity asked.
According to my officemate, the interloper was loquacious and curious about everything the doctor was doing. She seemed so relaxed and even joked a bit with the surgeon while the stitching was done — a complete opposite of me. They had to keep reminding her to stop talking.
After much hushing, the stitching was done and I immediately went under the CT scan and x ray machine.
Before I was sent to my room, I was given a pack of pain killers just in case the pain becomes unbearable.
The next day the doctor came to my room and told me the good news. My brain is unhurt and in good condition. Also, no bone fractures and no internal bleeding.
I placidly said to him that I already know.
“But there was something strange in the CT scan negative,” the doctor shared ” There were several lights in my brain. Oh, I guess it must have been from the shock of the fall,” he shrugs.
But I had the impression of a rewiring of brain neurons. The entity also gave me an imprint of assurance that if I can withstand the pain, whether physical or emotional, I will get the happiness I’ve always wanted.
The doctor later disclosed that my choice not to accept the hep-lock, dextrose and pain killers was a good decision. I would have done the same if I were in your place. “These have side effects. And you are right, you don’t really need the pain killers. You have a high tolerance for pain.”
NEW BEGINNING
I went home to Cebu via landtrip accompanied by my sister and brother. We were using the office vehicle with the DTI driver on the wheel.
Because of my injuries, I had to sleep alone at the ground floor of my abode.
The entity that took the driver’s seat in my body quietly left after a few days. But not before I had this vivid dream of a warm hand gently touching my injured forehead.
The days that followed was like a veil of sadness being lifted. The heavy feeling was gone.
I was actually enjoying each moment of my recovery. I even told the DTI human resource management officer that this was the best vacation I ever had.
In between visits to the doctor and dentist, I got to savor simple meals with my sister in fastfood joints, bakeries, small coffee shops and nondescript places; something I never did before. More importantly, I learned a little on how to make small talk. I even discussed silly, innocuous things which my sister considers childish.
I am still not a good talker, but that accident made it clear to me that my handicap is a gift.
It is a gift given to create empathy for people with their own struggles. It is also a motivational tool to develop the communication muscle I need to effectively express my ideas through the written word.
As the entity impressed upon me : I wouldn’t have the impetus to improve my writing if I knew I had the same ease to verbally interact with people in social situations.
A PLEA
So, if ever I get to sit down with you for a casual talk, please be patient with me as I trip and stumble over awkward phrases, hanging sentences, dangling words, constructions that are not precise.
I still gaffe at social conversations, but I make the effort to be there for you.
And however it may appear to you, know that your presence and what you have to say will always be important to me.
