Because I am the way that I am*, oftentimes my very first reaction to a situation involving another person who is angry/short-tempered/impatient/silent, or who otherwise responds in a way that I do not expect, is: they must hate me/not care about me/OH GOD I'VE DONE SOMETHING WRONG. It's a knee-jerk response over which I have no control -- that cold-water sensation of embarrassment, followed by a protective withdrawing into myself. Run. Hide. If left unchecked, the feeling quickly devolves into self-critical analysis: I'm so needy/awkward/STUPID/much. That's just one stop away from self-loathing. And I don't want to go there, because that's a rabbit-hole from which it's hard to escape.
Plus, I'm not THAT terrible. I don't think.
I have spent a fair amount of time over the past few years making an effort to be cognizant of that first reaction, and when I spot it, to deliberately step back and think more carefully about the situations. Is it really about me?
And I've come to the determination that most of the time, it's not about me at all.
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My default setting is an assumption that people will say what they mean and mean what they say. That's an erroneous assumption on my part, however, and one that I would do well to let go. People are just not that clear.
Why are people unclear? Because I cannot see their whole picture.
Everyone comes into every small moment bearing not only their current state of mind, but also all of their history, both large and small. All kinds of Life going on. And only a tiny fraction of anyone's previous stories includes anything having to do with me. Yet I find it very hard to put myself in someone else's shoes -- it does not come naturally to me to imagine someone's current mood/projects/situations, plus to bear in mind their history, when trying to comprehend what they are saying or doing.
So the important thing to remember: I'm only a main character in my own life. I'm a peripheral character, at best, in most other people's lives. I probably don't even have a name in the vast majority of others' metaphorical movies. And so I don't need to take things personally, because things are just plain not about me.
If people are abrupt at work, they are probably stressed by deadlines and projects and want to impart information quickly and efficiently. They are probably not thinking, you are so stupid.
If they don't want to have a meal with me? Probably busy thinking about all the 8,000 tasks that they hope to accomplish that day. Probably not thinking with you? Ew, no.
If they don't answer a call/text/email? Probably in the midst of Stuff. Probably not rolling their eyes and thinking ugh, she is so needy, IGNORE.
Repeat the mantra: it's not about me.
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Perhaps I should go back to my assumption that people will say what they mean and mean what they say, and try to make that work. It may require my asking additional, occasionally uncomfortable questions: did you mean, X? Are you OK? Is Y a problem? What is going on, really?
That strategy might backfire, though. If someone is in a hurry or bent out of shape for miscellaneous reasons or otherwise preoccupied, more questions won't be particularly helpful. I don't want to make anyone's life harder, or to occupy mental space they don't have at the moment.
Perhaps I'll just resort to wordlessly offering Grace: an assumption that my exuding kindness, patience, and most of all, not-about-me-ness, is what people need most. And I can return the favor if I am ill-tempered or crabby, by letting other people know: I'm just having a moment. it's not about you. Perhaps that will make everyone's life a little easier.
Let's see what we can do.
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* The way that I am: anxiously attached (whether anxious-ambivalent or anxious-avoidant, may vary from day to day).
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