On being understood

I have a 300-word section on my Facebook in which I describe myself. This is unusual, as far as Facebook profiles I've seen go: most people don't fill the "About Me" section out at all; or if they do, it's perfunctory. When I befriend new people on the site I'll eagerly click through their profile to discover what fascinating mysteries might reveal themselves; as a rule, I am left wanting.

Having recently added a few dancers from my swing performance troupe to my Facebook, the topic of my lengthy profile came up briefly during a dinner. Later, I asked one of my new acquaintances what she thought of my profile: specifically, whether it reflected accurately her impression of me that she'd gleaned from real life. She gave me a considered answer, then asked, quite reasonably, "Why do you want to know?"

An excellent question, to which there are several answers; or, perhaps, an answer in several parts.

The primary answer is this: to be understood. 

People are multifaceted. Each of us has different sides to us, some of which are only revealed in particular circumstances. People who have known me for years in one context can be surprised by other aspects of my life or personality I consider such natural parts of my identity that their surprise baffles me. Things like that I can dance – not just swing dance, but clubbing-style dancing –; that I'm a footballer; that I love The Living End; or that I'm German. 

Reflecting upon these things, I decided to write a profile that would bring somebody familiar with one side of me up to speed with the most important other aspects necessary to understand me: my personality type, sense of humour, hobbies, etc.

Curiously, there's a paragraph in which I write about how I see myself – it's odd, in context, in quite a different tone to the rest. My dancing profile evaluator remarked on it, and as I was able to offer was that I had perhaps written it so that I might understand myself.

The search for understanding as a driver crystalised for me today when I read a piece by Martin McKenzie-Murray, a skilled speech-writer and blogger. 

“You’re born in a cage,” he said, “and you’ll stay in it because there’ll always be a gap between your experiences and the words you have to describe them. More, you’ll only ever be able to occupy one skull—you’ll never completely know what it’s like to think or feel like somebody else. But, you can enlarge that cage by developing ways to communicate and your confidence to do so. That starts with expanding your vocabulary. The strength—and intimacy—of your relationships in life will largely depend upon your ability to express yourself warmly and precisely.” (emphasis mine)

 That'd be it. Well, part of it. For his message had a coda: "It might not matter terribly, because few of us listen anyway."

How much of what I intend to convey arrives? And is the fault mine, or yours?