I Am the Watercooler
I was born a secretary. The type of girl relegated to sitting amidst the land of Larger Personalities and Important Persons and listening. Listening to their toils, troubles; hopes, dreams.
There is paper work that goes along with being a secretary, of course, but the major attribute of someone born to the trade is to be a Human Watercooler, a place- I mean person- to have your thoughts heard and shared and verified, not really a person you go to listen to but a person you go to be listened to, be it about the latest Mad Men episode or your thoughts about the war… Like a good watercooler, I’m a soap box not a dialogue. I listen, not generally willing to make my voice known, but happier instead to smile, nod, agree and let people talk on. And on. And on.
I am The Watercooler. But somewhere along the way, I also became The Sponge. Somewhere in my life as a listener, as an observer, I may have listened so much I stopped being able to form my own opinions and feelings… I instead began absorbing those of others. Absorbing the closest emotion and wrapping it up and around my own, so much so that I stopped knowing where I began and the person speaking at the foot of my Watercooler ended. It’s not attractive, to me or to anyone else. The Human Sponge who spent so much time listening to others, she forgot to listen to herself. If she ever knew how.
For far too many years now, I have been the center of the conversation: at home, at work, in improv, in relationships… but I’ve been the center without ever really voicing a thing. In short, I was a good secretary: always there to listen, but never saying a word. Always there to absorb the stresses around me, never allowing myself to have my own.
The thing is, I’m not a secretary any more. I am at the center of no office drama, I am at the center of no family meal. I am my own. But I find I don’t know how… how to be my own, how not to thrive off the feelings and thoughts of others.
I’m thirty now, and a secretary only in my mind: I guess I better learn.
