For the purposes of this story, let’s call her “Sarah”.

Sarah had, what you might refer to as, a strong personality. On the scale of communication styles, she leaned heavily toward BLUNT.

She was one of those people who, within minutes of meeting someone, would ask them for details on their sex life, how much money they made last year and who they voted for. 

And she did this in a fairly loud, abrupt manner.

Her theory was that how someone responded when put on the spot told her all she needed to know about them, so she chose to dive in with big questions right away.

However, I did not know any of this before I was introduced to her. 

I met Sarah at 3:02pm on a Tuesday. 

By 3:04pm, she had my entire existence figured out. Or so she thought.

You should definitely sign up for this webinar. I can tell. You need this.
And you should definitely join that yoga studio. That one will be perfect for you.
Oh, and you should definitely let me set you up with my cousin. Definitely.

She went on. And on.

And the webinar, yoga studio and cousin she had in mind? All very, very wrong.

But as hard as I tried to write that experience off as another wacky social encounter, I couldn’t get the conversation out of my head. Day after day, my mind kept returning to Sarah and how suddenly she’d concluded that she knew what I needed. Until finally, this tiny thought crept into my brain:

What if I was responsible for giving Sarah the wrong impression of me?

Granted, she had a pretty aggressive way of introducing herself to people, but if we put that aside for a moment, the question ringing in my ears was:

Did I say something that suggested that I needed and desperately wanted her Here’s How to Live Your Life sermon?

I had.

With three small words, I gave her the wrong impression of me.

If you stripped our conversation down to its bare bones, several of my answers to Sarah’s questions could be summed up with these three words: “I don’t know.”

So it shouldn’t come as to much of a surprise that she jumped in to provide me with a laundry list of answers, because I’d just told her that answers were precisely what I was lacking.

Sarah was simply trying to give me what I had inadvertently told her I didn’t have: clarity.

I showed her an empty bucket and she was doing her best to fill it up.

And the truth?

I totally knew.

The decisions I said I was confused about, I knew what I wanted to do. The relationships I said I wasn’t sure how to handle, I knew how I wanted to move forward.

I was not actually confused. But in the face of this big, fiery personality, I felt small, so I spoke to her like a small person would. I compared myself to her so harshly that I did, in fact, feel weak and inexperienced, and my language reflected that.

Before you say ‘I don’t know,’ ask yourself: Do I really not know? Like, for real?

A lot of the time, I bet you do know.

When you peel the distractions away, you know. You know which relationships you want to lean into, and which ones you want to let go of. You know what kind of job or business would light your heart on fire. You know what your body needs.

Most of us are not as confused as we say we are.

But we let Comparison Syndrome or introversion or social awkwardness or something else convince us that the ice beneath our feet is cracking and we don’t have what it takes to make it to stable ground.

Saying “I don’t know” can often be a way of making sure you remain invisible.
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Because if you say you don’t know, you’re not in the game, you’re sitting on the sidelines. And the crowd isn’t watching the sidelines – they’re watching the people in the game.

Sometimes, our very human fears and insecurities cause us to talk about ourselves in ways that don’t reflect the truth of who we are. We choose language that hides our strength. Our words make our faith in ourselves, our relationship or our business seem small, even nonexistent.

And this gives other people the wrong impression of us. So it’s no wonder that very often, they’ll respond to us in ways that are unhelpful or even unkind. It’s not their fault – they were simply responding to us based on the information we provided.

So before you say “I don’t know” again, take a second and consider whether that’s actually true or not.

Are you really confused?
Or are you just hiding behind fake uncertainty?

If you really are genuinely confused, watch this space for my followup piece on this subject: How to Tell People  You’re Confused Without Feeling Small.

Coming soon.

Lots of love,
Annika

Annika Martins is a spiritual curator, which is kinda like being a museum curator. Except instead of curating paintings, she curates spiritual practices. From prayer and eyes-open meditations to surfing and self-touch (oh yah!), pack your curiosity and prepare to expand your definition of what’s high and holy.

See God. Your way. It’s all going down at AnnikaMartins.com.

You can also find Annika on Facebook, Twitter (@annikamartins) and Pinterest.

*Image courtesy of Brian Talbot.