We're Not All on the Same Page — and That's Exactly Why We Talk

-By Erin

Here's something nobody tells you when you start building something real with other people: you are never going to be in the same spot at the same time. Not all of you. Not all at once. Somebody's all in, somebody's curious-but-cautious, somebody's quietly working through a thing they haven't even named yet — and that's not a problem to fix. That's just the room you're standing in.

Initially, I thought the goal was to get everyone "aligned." Same pace, same excitement, same readiness — like if we could all just sync up, things would finally feel safe. (Spoiler: that is not how humans work. Or, I'm realizing this is not the case for the ones I love.)

What I've learned is that the spots people are standing in aren't the issue. The issue is when nobody says where they actually are.

The silence fills itself in — and usually it is not a nice narrative

When someone doesn't tell you where they're at, you get to make up the story. And the story your brain writes in that silence is rarely the generous one. They're pulling back. They're not as into this as I am. I pushed too hard. I want too much. (Anyone else's inner narrator a bit of an asshole? Just me? Okay, cool.)

The wild part is that the story is usually completely wrong. The person wasn't pulling away — they were just somewhere different than you, and it wasn't said out loud, so you filled the gap with your worst fear instead of their actual truth.

Honest conversation is the thing that stops the made-up story before it calcifies into a fact.

Honesty isn't a debt you owe — it's a door you open

I catch myself trying to explain everything, justify the feeling, apologize for having it, and tie it all up before I let anyone respond (or cutting bear off constantly to just get it out – anyone else have an ADD brain?). It's exhausting. And it didn't actually connect me to anyone — it just got me through the conversation.

The reframe that changed everything for me was this week. A real conversation isn't about closing the feeling. It's about opening a door. You're not proving you were right to feel something. You're letting people see you, and giving them the chance to do the same. "Here's where I actually am" is an invitation, not a verdict.

And here's the thing — you can only do that if you let other people be somewhere different than you without it meaning something terrible. Their "I'm not there yet" is not a rejection of you. It's just information. Honest, usable, kind information.

Different spots are a feature, not a bug

When everyone's at a different spot and everyone says so, something kind of beautiful happens: you stop guessing. You get to actually meet people where they are instead of where you assumed they were. Nobody's dragging anybody. Nobody's secretly resentful that they're moving at a pace that isn't theirs. The fast ones aren't pretending to slow down, the slow ones aren't pretending to be ready — and the whole thing gets to move at a pace that's honest instead of performed.

That only works if the talking is real. Not the polished version. Not the version where you pre-soften everything so nobody ever has to feel a feeling. The actual one.

Okay, but how do you actually do it when you're in different places?

Fair question. Because "just be honest about where you are" is adorable on a coffee mug and a lot harder at 11pm when someone's gone quiet and your stomach's doing The Thing. So here's what actually helps me.

Sort out pace vs. direction first. Being at different speeds is so workable, as long as you're pointed the same way. The question that actually matters isn't "are we in the same spot" — it's "are we still heading toward the same thing, even if you're a few steps back from me?" If yes, the gap is just logistics, and logistics we can do. If no — that's the real conversation, and no amount of patience papers over it. So figure out the direction before anyone argues about the speed.

Find the honest overlap. The person furthest ahead doesn't get to set the floor ("we're all doing this now"), and the person furthest back doesn't get to set the ceiling ("so nobody can"). I think going at the slowest person’s pace is important, but the ideal is looking for is the overlap — the most everyone can genuinely say yes to right now, without anyone performing a readiness they don't actually have. That number might be smaller than the fast person wants (hi, sometimes that's me). It's still the real one. You move at the speed of the actual yes, not the polite one.

If you're the slower one, narrate it. This is the part I think people miss. It's easy to treat "being behind" as the passive seat — like the faster folks just have to wait around being saints about it. But patience aimed at a black box curdles into resentment fast. If you're not there yet, the kindest thing you can do is say it out loud: "I'm not ready for X, but here's what I am into, and here's what would help me get there." Silence is what makes the gap feel like rejection. A little running commentary makes it feel like a journey you're still on together.

And — this one's for me — you are not the camp counselor. No matter how tempting. Track where everyone is, smooth the friction, translate between the fast one and the slow one, and quietly leave your own spot off the map entirely. But if you're managing the gap instead of standing somewhere in it, nobody actually knows where you are — and congratulations, you've made yourself the one person in the group who never gets met. Your spot counts too. Say it out loud like everyone else has to.

The discomfort is the work

I won't pretend this is easy (it's far from easy). Saying the true thing out loud — I want more of this. I'm scared of that. I'm not where you are, and I don't want to lie about it — makes your stomach drop every single time. The discomfort doesn't mean you're doing it wrong. The discomfort is the work. It's the toll you pay to actually be known instead of just managed.

We don't need everyone in the same spot; we never did. We just need everyone telling the truth about which spot they're in — and trusting that the people who love you can handle the real answer.

That's it. That's the whole thing. Different spots, honest mouths, open doors.

Talk to each other. Out loud. Even the messy parts. Especially the messy parts.

Pull up a chair. We saved you a seat.

Find us:

🎙️ Listen to the podcast