The Art of Opening up
Hello, my lovely readers!
It’s been a while huh? So much has been happening in my life that finding time to write at leisure has felt like an indulgence I couldn’t quite afford. There’s so much I want to share about what I’ve been up to—my coaching, teaching, and the progress on my book. But that will have to wait.
This post has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, patiently waiting for its moment. And what better day than today to dress it up and send it out? I hope you’ve missed me because I’ve missed you all terribly.
Today’s post is about something that’s been on my mind a lot lately: the art of opening up and the cost of silence. As we step into a brand-new year, I want to leave you with a reflection on the connections that matter most. May 2025 be the year you find the time, patience, and support to nurture your relationships and bring your aspirations to life.
So, let’s go.
Transparency is my superpower—and my Achilles’ heel.
Since childhood, I’ve been the kind of person who says what I mean and means what I say. No filters, no disguises. For better or worse, it’s who I am. I was often told this was a weakness, something I’d need to “fix” to make life easier for myself.
But holding back or masking my thoughts has always felt like wearing shoes two sizes too small—uncomfortable and utterly pointless.
Have I paid a price for my openness? Of course. There have been moments where I’ve thought, “Maybe that was a bit much?” But in the grand scheme, the costs don’t outweigh the freedom of saying what I mean.
That said, I’ve also realized not everyone operates this way. You could know someone for years and still struggle to understand what’s really going on inside their heads. They’re masters of the poker face—no tells, no giveaways, just silence that dares you to guess.
Even for someone like me, who prides herself on reading people, it’s a tough nut to crack. And, if I’m honest, I’ve sometimes envied their ability to hold back.
There’s a certain elegance to withholding. It’s a survival strategy that works brilliantly in specific settings—staying quiet in a tense meeting, sidestepping drama at a family gathering, or negotiating with a toddler (a high-stakes operation, if you ask me).
But what starts as self-protection can become a habit, and in relationships that truly matter, staying closed off isn’t survival; it’s missed opportunity.
The reasons for withholding vary—fear of judgment, past hurts, or simply not knowing how to articulate feelings. Whatever the cause, the result is the same: a barrier in relationships that thrive on reciprocity.
Relationships aren’t just about being seen; they’re about seeing the other person too. If one person is always doing the heavy lifting, exhaustion is inevitable. It’s like a garden—we can love the idea of wildflowers, but if we never water the plants, we must not be surprised when they wither.
This is where communication comes in—not as a natural-born talent but as an essential skill. Like learning to drive or cook, it’s something we cultivate. Awkward at first, yes. But over time, it pays dividends. And if we don’t make the effort to grow this skill, the loss is ultimately ours.
As a coach, my greatest joy is creating a space where people feel safe enough to share their deepest challenges. But the clients who’ve taught me the most are the ones I couldn’t help open up.
Early in my career, I felt the pressure to “add value” immediately. I’d swoop in with solutions, convinced I was helping. Looking back, I realize I often skipped the most critical step: understanding their struggles. Instead of feeling supported, they felt judged, misunderstood, or unheard.
Even now, when someone arrives doubting whether they can fix things, their scepticism can trigger my inner “imposter,” tempting me to prove my worth instead of simply being present.
What I’ve learned is this - real connection isn’t about providing the right answers; it’s about asking the right questions. People don’t open up because we force answers on them. They open up when they feel safe, respected, and truly seen.
My daughter has been one of my greatest teachers in this department. From birth, she mastered the art of emotional restraint. She didn’t even cry during her first vaccinations. I thought, “What a brave little being!” Later, I realized this stoicism came with its challenges.
I used to encourage her to share her feelings, telling her repeatedly it was okay to express herself. It never worked. Eventually, I stopped pushing and tried meeting her where she was. I’d sit beside her quietly or cuddle her, offering the silent assurance of love.
Then I’d ask gently, “Do you want to talk about it?” If she said no, I’d suggest journaling her thoughts. Sometimes she’d choose to share with me instead, and honestly, I don’t know if that’s because writing felt like too much work (lol).
Another strategy I’ve found invaluable is mirroring—meeting people where they are instead of trying to pull them where we think they should be.
Mirroring isn’t about imitation. It’s about tuning into someone’s preferred way of communicating. Maybe they process better in writing than speaking. Maybe they share more easily while walking or cooking, rather than sitting face-to-face. Adjusting to their style shows respect for their comfort, and respect builds trust.
For instance, my sister is a master thought-hoarder. If I press her for a serious conversation, she’ll shut down. But if I crack a dumb joke while casually discussing her latest binge-watch, she lets me in just a wee bit.
It’s not about tricking someone into talking—it’s about creating a space where they feel like it’s their choice to do so.
Being open doesn’t mean abandoning boundaries or baring everything. It’s about creating space for someone else and saying, “I’m here. I see you. Let’s figure this out together.”
If being closed off is our comfort zone, stepping out may feel risky. Holding back might feel like control, but over time, it becomes isolation. Relationships aren’t finite projects with tidy endings; they’re infinite games where the rules evolve as we go.
The people who matter most aren’t our opponents—they’re our teammates, even if it sometimes feels otherwise. And let’s be honest, none of us are winning any awards for flawless communication here.
Opening up isn’t about staging a grand reveal or prying open someone else’s carefully guarded heart like it’s a stubborn jar of pickles. We don’t have to start with a dramatic monologue like “I’ve secretly hated your biryani since 2014”.
Dip your toes in. Say the thing you’ve been holding back—but maybe start with the smaller things (and no, I am not talking about the raita or the saalan).
It won’t always be perfect. In fact, it’s almost guaranteed to be a bit awkward. But that’s the point: connection isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up and saying, “Let’s do this together.”
Because at the end of the day, isn’t that what relationships are? A bunch of imperfect humans, strengthening connection, one awkwardly honest moment at a time?
Before I go, I have two requests:
Please write to me if you are able to help with any of these:
Book: I am looking for readers who can review 1-2 chapters of my upcoming book and provide detailed feedback in less than 3 days (per chapter).
Coaching: I am looking for senior technologists (leaders) who are willing to help me hone one of my professional relationship coaching programs, and can spare up to 1-2 hours.