Mending Fences, Building Walls

Herself had an opportunity to discuss the Incident of a few days ago with the Spouse of Acquaintance.  It was a useful conversation, for Spouse is a thoughtful bastion of rationality.  While Herself did not learn anything new, she did garner some food for thought.

Herself and Spouse concurred that it was clear that Acquaintance is lacking the typical filter between brain and mouth that most people have.  Acquaintance thinks and speaks nearly simultaneously, rather than stopping to consider whether something might be inappropriate to utter aloud.  The question is, is this habit/character trait gradually becoming more pronounced (it seems so) -- and if so, why?  It might be that Acquaintance has reached a certain age at which it is assumed that one can say whatever one likes.  Slightly more ominously, though, it could be a sign of a type of slow decline that comes with age.  They do not know. Only time will tell.

Spouse reassures Herself that Acquaintance does not mean any harm, that Acquaintance does not intend to be hurtful.  Herself wants to believe Spouse.  She would like Spouse to be right.  How many times, though, can one say, "Oh, no harm was intended," before one begins to wonder?

The difficulty also lies within what happens after Acquaintance has wounded another's feelings. In Herself's mind, an apology is an expression of regret for having hurt another, and should be offered without justifications or excuses. The apology which Acquaintance provided for the Incident, however, seemed to Herself to be more of an explanation that deflected the spotlight away from the actual event -- a statement that caused hurt -- and towards a commentary on Acquaintance and Herself.  It described Acquaintance's positive traits (direct, open, straightforward), and also highlighted Herself's characteristics that Acquaintance felt contributed to the problem (ultra private, ultra sensitive).  This is not, in Herself's mind, a true apology.  Surely if one does not intend harm but accidentally does so, one should offer a heartfelt, simple "I'm sorry" without reservation or qualification? Or is that expecting too much?

Herself knows what she must do.  She must learn to say, politely and without any sign of anger, "Acquaintance, you can't say that," and still continue to be polite and friendly to Acquaintance. This will cover a multitude of bases:  if Acquaintance is being deliberately mean, it will indicate to Acquaintance that Herself knows and refuses to be upset by it.   If, in fact, Acquaintance is oblivious to the inappropriateness of a comment, it will put Acquaintance on notice of the problem without causing Acquaintance to become agitated or upset for having committed a faux pas.  Most of all, it will provide Acquaintance's Spouse much-needed support, for it will reinforce Spouse's position that Acquaintance means no harm. Spouse needs to believe that.  It is the very least we can do for Spouse.

All this is so much easier said than done.

Part of the problem lies in that Herself has difficulty reading people; it is problematic for her to identify sarcasm, passive-aggressive statements, or subtle digs by others. Growing up, she was also often told that she was "overreacting," and so she doubts her ability to assess her own emotional responses. She additionally has historically (and naively) assumed that most people are benevolent -- although, as she gets older, she assumes so less often -- and is surprised when they are not. All of these characteristics make it nearly impossible for her to handle unexpected moments like the Incident:  like a deer in the headlights, she stares and blinks and cannot determine what is happening. It will take enormous concentration and effort to respond appropriately to future Incidents as they occur.

People are exhausting.

Herself knows she must hide from others the thoughts she cannot utter aloud, the feelings she cannot expose.  She must hug the individuals who need a reassuring touch, even if they have hurt her.  She must not embrace those who prefer not to be touched, even if she yearns to do so. She must be kinder than she is inclined to be, more patient than she thinks she may be able to be. 

She must do so, because it is who she is.

She must build herself a few more personal walls.  The less she shares herself with others -- including Acquaintance -- the less vulnerable she is to wounding, and the easier it will be to allow harsh, unexpected or unkind words to fall away rather than piercing her.

She hates walls.  She feels boxed in, constrained.  Yet the walls are there for her own safety. She must protect herself, for ultimately, no one else can do so.