Cover of darkness

I realized something rather interesting a few nights ago. It's so much easier to talk about things that really bother me when I'm in bed and the lights are out in the bedroom. If something is really bothering me or I just really feel like talking, I usually plant my head on Boy's stomach and look at the curtains. It's like the darkness makes me free to talk about whatever.

Earlier today I read a column about how children seem to have problems talking to their parents when they sit face to face, but have no problems when riding behind their parent on a bicycle or sitting in a sling on their back. The columnist brought up the thought that maybe the lack of response in the shape of micro expressions makes it easier for the child to share feelings and experiences. When the child can't see their parent's face they have no way of knowing how the parent really reacts and are free to share things they might otherwise be hesitant to talk about, maybe for fear of not making sense or of being hurtful.

Because body language is so important for inter-human communication, micro expressions can be the reason why we feel uncomfortable about certain things, even if we consciously don't notice the change. This article, and also the Swedish "mind reader" Henrik Fexeus talk about the importance of facial expressions when interacting with other humans. In this way we are closer to other animals than many humans would like to admit.

We use body language and facial expression to create rapport with people, to adjust the way we interact, and to adapt to changing moods in others. Some individuals are born with a weakened ability to read body language and have problems in social situations because of this. Others are so adept at reading body language that it's as if they can read minds (see Fexeus' work).

So when I lay there in the dark, words tumbling out of my mouth, waiting for that verbal response, I don't fear the feed back as much as when I can see the other person. The lack of visual body language makes me feel distanced from my emotions and I have an easier time analyzing what I'm feeling and why, what got under my skin, how I can work through it, and how I can store the knowledge for next time. The disembodied response from Boy makes the illusion complete, creating a unreal environment wherein thoughts and ideas are more important that expression. I can't tell if he's bothered by what I'm saying other than through his use of words, so I have no way to be responsible for his reactions.

In the darkness, I can lay myself bare to self-scrutiny and give myself positive and constructive criticism in a way I can't do when the lights are on and my defenses are on high alert. In the darkness, laying in my bed, I am free to be myself.