Communication myths and assumptions are heavy (And Honestly, Kind of a Buzzkill)
Let’s just say this up front: we are walking around with a backpack full of beliefs we didn’t pack ourselves. I’m talking about the invisible assumptions—little thought-goblins—that whisper how we should communicate. They tell us when to speak, how to sound, what not to feel. They’re usually wrong. But oh, they’re loud.
We don’t even notice them most days. Like ambient airport noise. Or that one email that’s been sitting in your inbox since, what, January?
But here’s the thing: those assumptions? They quietly, consistently, maddeningly shape how we show up. They build walls where there could be windows. They add weight where we need wings.
So. Let’s look at a few of these crusty old ideas. Maybe poke them. Maybe let them go.
You have to say it right or don’t say it at all
This one. Oh wow. This one feels like high school speech class all over again—standing in front of thirty blinking eyes, heart hammering like a terrified hummingbird, your brain a soup of half-sentences and “ums.”
Somewhere along the way, a lot of us got the idea that words have to be polished like… I don’t know, glass sculptures. Smooth. Impressive. Instagram-caption-ready. Otherwise, zip it.
And that’s tragic. Because the truth? People don’t remember exactly what you say. They remember how they felt when you said it. The crack in your voice, the wild flicker in your eyes when you talk about that thing that matters to you—THAT is the stuff that sticks.
Instead? Let your voice be messy. Be alive. Like jazz. Or the way the wind changes direction when you’re trying to have a picnic. Speak like it matters, not like it’s being graded.
Nice = effective
Haha. No.
We confuse being agreeable with being good communicators all the time. It’s baked into emails like: *“Just circling back, no worries if not!”*—the kind of phrases that are so polite they might as well apologize for existing.
Don’t get me wrong—kindness is gold. But compulsive agreeableness? That’s… a prison wrapped in a compliment sandwich. When we default to “nice,” we avoid friction, but also miss real connection. Saying “yes” when you mean “I don’t agree” is basically emotional ghosting in slow motion.
I used to nod along in meetings even when I felt like screaming, “Wait! That’s a terrible idea. Are we seriously doing that?”
Here’s a better mantra: Honesty with heart. You can disagree without being a jerk. You can say no and still care. Real conversations can be uncomfortable—and also, gloriously, wildly necessary.
Only confident people get to speak
I used to wait until I felt 100% sure before raising my hand, pitching a thought, even texting someone back. (You can imagine how many ideas died in that weird waiting room.)
The myth goes: confidence first, then communication. But that’s backwards. Most of the confident people you see talking? They were scared too, once. Maybe still are. They just… talk anyway.
Real talk: Confidence is a moving target. It’s not a prerequisite—it’s a side effect. You get it by doing the thing, not by waiting for it to land like some majestic eagle on your shoulder.
So speak up even when you tremble. Especially then. Especially when your stomach’s doing that weird rollercoaster thing. That’s the edge of growth—and yeah, it’s supposed to feel weird.
If you don’t know, fake it
Nope. Big nope. We live in an age of information overload and overconfidence—have you seen Twitter? (Or X, or whatever it is now.)
Pretending to know stuff just to seem “in the know” is exhausting. And transparent. And honestly? You miss out on learning. When you’re busy performing, you’re not growing. You’re just doing improve with no audience.
I remember once pretending I understood blockchain at a networking event. A guy said “DeFi” and I just nodded like, “Ah yes, naturally.” I left that conversation confused, sweaty, and weirdly craving pancakes.
Try this instead: Say “I don’t know, but I want to.” Or “Explain it to me like I’m five.” Vulnerability builds bridges faster than jargon ever will.
I’ve always been this way
The “this is just how I am” trap. Classic. Sneaky. Comfortable. Devastating.
Maybe you’ve been told you’re “quiet” or “too much” or “not a people person.” Maybe you believe it. Maybe you wear it like an identity badge—justifying every avoided conversation or frozen-over feeling.
But you’re not a fixed object. You’re not a coffee table. You’re human. You’re in motion. And communication? It’s not a genetic lottery—it’s a craft. A dance. A muscle.
You can change. You really can. Maybe not overnight. But today, you could say something that yesterday scared the hell out of you. And tomorrow, it might be easier.
Growth isn’t linear—it’s like a weird scribbly map drawn by a tipsy cartographer. But it moves. You move.
So what now?
Pause. Like, right now. Mid-scroll, mid-sip, mid-whatever.
Ask yourself: Which of these tired old rules am I still dragging around like a busted suitcase? What story am I telling myself about who I have to be when I speak? And—this is big—what if I just… dropped it?
Let go. Let yourself be a little chaotic. A little wrong. A little loud or soft or different or unapologetically real.
Speak like someone who isn’t afraid of being misunderstood. Like someone whose voice deserves to take up space—even when it cracks. Even when it’s unsure. Especially then.
Because it does.
Because you do.
And because silence is safe, but expression? That’s liberation.