The Signal I Nearly Missed

It took ten minutes of sitting still before he spoke

Last month I wrote about slowing down. Jesiah and the beetle.

My challenge was to try one thing: have one slow conversation. Stay for ten seconds longer than felt comfortable.

To those of you who emailed me about what happened when you tried it. Thank you. Your stories reminded me why I write these and that you are on this journey with me.

This month, I want to talk about what comes next. Because slowing down is one step. The next question is: once you slow down, what do you actually notice?

The Signal I Nearly Missed

Judah had been quieter than usual. Not in a way that would concern a teacher or worry a doctor. Just slightly less himself. A bit less chatty at dinner. Slightly quicker to head upstairs to his room.

I registered it. But filed it under "being a normal 13-year-old" and moved on.

Then one evening, with no particular plan, I sat next to him. No phone. No agenda. Just being still.

It took about ten minutes of nothing much before he said, quietly: "Dad, I think I'm worried about something but I don't know what it is."

He'd been telling me for weeks. Not in those explicit words. But through his actions. Through the quietness. Through the gentle withdrawal. I just hadn't been still enough to hear it.

The question I posed in the email is a real one: have you ever noticed when someone is saying something by using their actions instead of their words? 

Because once you start looking for it, I’m sure you will see it (almost everywhere).

Inattentional Blindness

Neuroscientists have a term for what’s happening, it’s called: inattentional blindness. Our brains are constantly filtering information, deciding what's relevant and what isn't. It's clean efficiency. It keeps us functioning. But it also means we routinely miss things that are right in front of us.

If you've come across the famous "invisible gorilla" experiment by Daniel Simons and Christopher Chabris, you'll know what I mean. Participants were asked to count basketball passes in a video. While they were counting, a person in a gorilla suit walked through the scene. Half the participants didn't see it at all.

They weren't distracted. They weren't careless. They were paying attention to the wrong thing.

If you look back, I wrote about awareness and the 5-4-3-2-1 technique for tuning into your senses. That's still useful. But this is different. Sensory awareness is about noticing your environment. 

What I'm talking about this month is noticing people. 

The colleague who's gone quiet. 

The team member whose energy has shifted. 

The person who keeps saying "I'm fine" in a way that doesn't quite seem true.

I believe people communicate with their behaviour long before they communicate with their words. 

The question is - Are we paying enough attention to read it?

The Ask-Twice Principle

On Mentality Meets with Zara Sheldrake I described being asked how I was doing three times by Jonny Benjamin before I actually answered honestly. https://youtu.be/tnfVGi9b98s?si=cPp95gQ1YOAzQ1WU

The first time, I gave the automatic response. It was only by the third ask, with his genuine care and attention, the question finally got through.

Three times.

Most of us ask once and accept the script. Not because we don't care. Because the script is comfortable. It's quick. It lets us move on.

But noticing means staying past the script. It means registering that "I'm fine" didn't match their face. It means asking again. Not aggressively. Just with enough genuine interest that they know you actually want the answer.

This connects to something we explored back in April and May, when we talked about workplace loneliness and holding space. Asking "how are you, really?" only works if you've already noticed that something needs asking about. The noticing comes first. It's the foundation everything else is built on.

Different People Signal Differently

This is where our neurodiversity changes the conversation. Not everyone signals struggle the same way. Some people go quiet, like Judah. Others get louder, more intense, more talkative. Some become hyper-focused on work as a way of avoiding what they're feeling. Others disengage entirely.

If we're only looking for one pattern of distress, the teary colleague, the person who stops showing up, we'll miss everyone who doesn't fit the template. 

Neurodivergent colleagues in particular may mask so effectively that the struggles they’re experiencing become invisible to anyone who isn't paying close attention. It becomes a brilliantly effective camouflage.

One of my delegates said this in their feedback form: "The language we use has a much greater impact than I ever considered." She was talking about how a small shift in the questions she asks her team opened up conversations she didn't know were waiting to happen.

It wasn't a new technique. It was attention. Genuine, unhurried attention to how people were actually responding, not just what they were saying but the behaviours behind the words.

Your Challenge for October

This month, I'm inviting you to notice one person differently.

Pick someone you see regularly. A colleague, a friend, a family member. Someone you usually interact with on autopilot.

Pay attention to their energy, their body language, the things they're not saying. 

If something feels different, don't dismiss it. Stay curious.

If you feel brave enough, ask. Not "How are you?" but "How are you doing with everything at the moment?" 

Then wait. 

If they say "fine," notice whether it matches. And if it doesn't, consider asking again.

You might be the third person to ask. 

You might be the only one who gets a real answer.

A Note on the Book

Some of you have asked about the book I mentioned last month. It's coming along. I’ve been working on it for over a year now, and in honesty I thought I’d be done by now. The chapter I'm working on right now is the last character who holds the whole book together. If you are interested, I’ll share more soon.

What's Ahead

Next month, I will explore what happens when someone actually opens up. 

Not the theory (we covered that back in May) but the harder question: 

 - What makes it so difficult to ask for help in the first place? And what can we learn from the people who find it easier?

The free live sessions I mentioned in September are taking shape. I'll have dates and details for you next month. If you're already curious, drop me a line and I'll make sure you're first to know.

Email me here : hello@peterlarkum.com

Your friend, Peter