What We Meant vs. What Was Heard

There is a strange thing that happens when you grow older.You become more articulate — but somehow less understood.This past season of my life has not been about broken laptops or financial strain. It has been about conversations. Or more accurately, mis-conversations. The gap between what I meant and what was heard. The tension between asking for advice and feeling corrected. The thin line between guidance and control.I have always been someone who asks questions.If I’m unsure, I ask.If I’m planning something, I consult.If I’m stuck, I reach out.Not because I am incapable of deciding for myself — but because I believe in perspective. I believe in sharpening iron with iron. I believe that sometimes someone else can see what you’re too close to notice.But adulthood complicates that simplicity.When you’re younger, advice feels like support.When you’re older, advice can feel like evaluation.And lately, I’ve found myself walking into conversations hoping for clarity but walking out feeling subtly diminished.It would start innocently.“I’m thinking of doing this.”And instead of discussion, it would turn into dissection.“Why would you do that?”“That doesn’t make sense.”“You should have done it this way.”“If I were you…”If I were you.That phrase has quietly caused more distance between adults than we admit.Because the truth is — you are not me.You don’t carry my exact pressures.You don’t calculate with my exact resources.You don’t wake up with my specific anxieties.You don’t navigate my exact realities.And yet, advice often arrives packaged as universal truth.At first, I internalized it.Maybe I’m wrong.Maybe I’m immature.Maybe I don’t think deeply enough.But something didn’t sit right.Because many of these same people come to me too. For perspective. For ideas. For reassurance. For correction. And when they do, I try — intentionally — not to bulldoze their thinking. I ask questions. I offer options. I leave room.So why did it feel like there was no room for me?That’s when I realized something uncomfortable about adult communication:We don’t just listen to respond.We listen to position.Every conversation subtly carries hierarchy. Experience vs. inexperience. Stability vs. instability. Success vs. struggle. And when advice flows downward instead of across, it stops feeling like collaboration and starts feeling like correction.There was one particular conversation that stayed with me.I had shared an idea — something creative, something slightly unconventional. I wasn’t asking whether I should live or die by it. I just wanted feedback.The response was quick. Dismissive.“That won’t work.”No exploration. No curiosity. Just conclusion.And I smiled through it. Nodded. Changed the subject.But internally, something shifted.Not because they disagreed.But because they didn’t ask why.That’s the thing about communication between adults — disagreement isn’t the problem. Dismissal is.Over time, I began adjusting myself.I started sharing less.I started editing my thoughts before speaking.I started framing ideas defensively, anticipating criticism.“Maybe it’s stupid but…”“I could be wrong but…”“This might not make sense but…”I was shrinking my voice preemptively.And the painful irony? The same people would later say, “Why don’t you talk like before?” or “You don’t ask for advice anymore.”Because asking had started to feel like volunteering for scrutiny.It took a while for me to identify what was really bothering me.It wasn’t correction.Correction is healthy.It was the tone of finality. The absence of curiosity. The subtle undertone that suggested, “I know better than you,” rather than, “Let’s think through this together.”There is a difference between guidance and dominance.One empowers.The other overrides.But adulthood makes this tricky.We all think we’ve learned enough to speak with authority. We’ve survived things. Failed things. Built things. Lost things. And somewhere along the way, we confuse experience with omniscience.The truth is, we are all still guessing — just at different confidence levels.I started reflecting on my own communication too.Had I unknowingly done the same to others? Had I dismissed someone’s idea too quickly? Had I hidden my ego behind the mask of “just trying to help”?Growth is uncomfortable because it forces you to admit you might be contributing to the very thing that frustrates you.So I tried something different.The next time I shared an idea and received immediate criticism, instead of withdrawing, I asked:“Can you help me understand why you think that?”Not defensively. Genuinely.The conversation changed.The tone softened.They explained context.I explained mine.And suddenly, it wasn’t correction anymore. It was collaboration.That moment taught me something critical:Most communication breakdowns between adults are not about intelligence. They are about ego management.We want to feel competent.We want to feel heard.We want to feel respected.Advice threatens those things when delivered carelessly.And asking for advice threatens those things when received pridefully.The real challenge is balance.How do you remain teachable without feeling inferior?How do you offer guidance without sounding superior?How do you correct someone without shrinking them?How do you receive correction without personalizing it?These are not skills we are formally taught.We learn them painfully. Through awkward silences. Through strained friendships. Through conversations that linger in our heads long after they end.I’m still learning.I still sometimes feel irritated when someone speaks too definitively about my life.I still sometimes catch myself speaking too definitively about someone else’s.But now I’m more aware.Now I pause before saying, “That won’t work.”Now I try, “What made you think that direction is best?”Now I try, “Have you considered this angle?”Now I try, “Here’s what I see — but you know your situation better.”Communication between adults is less about vocabulary and more about humility.It is less about being right and more about being respectful.It is less about winning points and more about building understanding.And maybe that’s the quiet maturity we are all slowly stumbling toward — learning how to speak without overpowering, and how to listen without shrinking.I still ask for advice.But now, I am also learning to protect my voice.Because the goal of conversation is not to prove who is wiser.It is to walk away clearer than when you started.And clarity can only grow where respect exists.

Other insights from Matthew Okibe

Referral Earning

Points-to-Coupons