Over this past three quarters, S-'s fondness for communication has rubbed off on me. I'm just starting to realize the communication is the answer in literally every social situation, pleasant or not. And then there's the stretch to actually embrace that answer and actually communicate. With that aside, I don't have much to say I guess. I'm very happy with where all of my relationships are right now, many of which are where they are due to both people putting in a good amount of effort to communicate. I definitely wouldn't have been able to communicate to this extent even six months ago, and I'm shocked at how much I've grown.
I found out a week ago, by email, that my parents got officially divorced back in April. I still don't know the full details, and neither are willing to tell me. The fact that I was told by email and late stung more than the news of the divorce, and I wish my parents just communicated about it honestly rather than tried to hide it in the emails in the past month; the divorce actually happening actually comes more as a relief to me. It's difficult to deal with emotionally, but I know that in the long run it'll be the healthier, happier option for both my parents. It's scary though, knowing that everything my life was before Stanford was is now fundamentally different.
This morning, I had my first kiss. It was in a spectacularly quiet, peaceful, bed-hair glasses-off bodies-intertwined preceded-by-30-seconds-of-meaningful-eye-contact fashion with E-, and it's left me enchanted the entire day. I've definitely daydreamed about how my first kiss might go, and I don't think it could've felt more natural and right. It's bizarre how quickly people can get close to each other. Just two months prior, I might've been able to recognize her in a line at the dining hall, but probably knew not much more about her beyond that. I'm scared to think about how our relationship will (or will not, though hopefully not) develop from here, but at the moment I just can't help feeling so lucky.
Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts
Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Soulmateship and Vulnerability
It's been a good while since I posted anything here. It's not that I've had a drought of sentimentality or visceral thoughts (I'm kind of just always sentimental, goo-prone, and generally pathetic); quite the opposite actually, as I've had too many and don't really know what to make of them. I've needed a lot more time to think about it, and I'm still not convinced I have all the questions answered. This is a long post.
In a nutshell:
Not everyone is your soulmate, though you can sort of convince yourself of it, because there is a difference between the feasibility of maintaining a relationship and how happy doing so actually makes you. Everyone has vulnerabilities, but vary greatly in what they are and willingness to share them. It is better to share your vulnerability with others and sincerely try to be there for them even if it seems uncomfortable than to let it brew because unless you take a shot you'll never know how they express vulnerability. The worst that could happen is that you don't learn anything about them, but at least they'll know you care.
---
Thoughts on soulmates:
A few weeks ago, S- sent me a link to this article urging people to marry young. Her main argument was that soul mates aren't found, they're made out of the person you marry. My first reaction to the article was that I could totally see where the author was coming from. I didn't necessarily agree with her for a variety reasons. Her premise simply didn't happen in the marriages in my life, namely my parents. But I could see how romantic relationships, including my own, could follow such a trajectory. I like to think that, unlike my parents, I put a substantial amount of effort into my relationships and am decent at making them work.
As someone who generally trusts people until they prove unworthy of it and finds solace from my own troubles by reaching emotional depths in relationships with other people, I certainly would not reject the idea of marrying someone with complete faith that post-marriage I will establish an emotional connection (i.e. become soul mates) with them, even if that connection hadn't been established pre-engagement. Unlikely, but possible. I can just as easily see how that idea would be completely repulsive to others; some people naturally have all their walls up, and only that special person can chip away at them until they come down, and only then are they comfortable committing to a life-long relationship. I respect both viewpoints.
With these thoughts came a somewhat nightmarish realization--if I can essentially fall in love with anyone, why the hell should I not marry the next girl that passes me by on the street? I can establish a meaningful connection with her, right?
A nice conversation with J- served as a good reality check. There were a good number of holes in the author's argument. Obviously, she didn't just marry any ol' bimbo; she had been with her eventual husband for at least a little while. That's a little more comforting--I do think that I am good enough at human interaction to make any long-term commitments that I am actually interested in (as opposed to a relationship with a random stranger) work, romantic or otherwise. Furthermore, after J- brought it up it seemed so obvious: the argument seemed almost traditionalist. Marry someone without knowing where it'll go expecting that the relationship will grow from there, almost borderline arranged marriage (though psychology studies show that divorce rates don't actually differ between arranged and self-chosen couples, so nothing against it), as if marriage were a business transaction. That simply isn't how I want my relationships to be. I want my relationships to be with people I am happy with right from the get-go.
Recently, a variety of different things, however, are convincing me of something I'm deeply saddened by. Feelings of attraction can be very easily manipulated as we learned in PSYCH 70. Indeed, it seems that my stupid, feeble mind is actually quite susceptible to what is only supposed to be banter about my love life from N-. Call it conformity or priming or what have you--it seems to have an effect.
I borrowed Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman from E-, and as far as I can tell that an understanding of love languages can be applied beyond just a romantic relationship you're invested in. In that sense, it seems that, with sufficient practice, I can speak any love language, even if it isn't my preferred one, to better be able to be there for someone in their times of sorrow or share in their moments of joy. In that sense, it almost becomes possible to be "compatible" with anybody.
The idea that you can be compatible with anybody, though I don't exactly buy it, is scary as hell. Sure, it will facilitate smooth relationships, but does it also threaten your relationships at the same time because you so easily mesh with others? While consoling and comforting K- through the recent relationship rockiness she's been experiencing, she told me that any girl would be lucky to have me as a boyfriend. That's generally considered one of those classic, somewhat demoralizing tip-off phrases for friendzoning, but in this context where she knows I'm interested in someone else, it made me think a little.
Scotty McClellan's Valentine's Day sermon from my love class had a section where he denounced passionate, romantic love as a mere projection of one's own concept of other people upon them, and when people defy your image of them, the mirage of love dissolves. When I first read that, the idealist in me kicked in and was revolted, because I absolutely believe that romantic love exists and is valuable. However, now that I think about it more, the whole idea of projecting your image of others on to others, though not strictly a synonym to romantic love, is sometimes found in relationships.
As someone who values peace and harmony in interpersonal interactions, I often find myself in sort of a social chameleon mode, and that makes me susceptible to have others' impressions or images of me projected upon me. I feel very guilty when I can't be what others expect of me; this is healthy when there is mutuality in that aspect of my relationships, but when there is not, I simply lose sight of myself and the relationship is not healthy. In other words, sure I'd be a fantastic relationship partner for many people, but it would not be a healthy relationship at least for me.
What it really comes down to, I suppose, is the difference between being capable of and being happy in maintaining a good relationship with someone. The conclusion I seem to be arriving at so far is that I'd be capable of maintaining a caring, compassionate relationship (platonic and romantic both) with most people, but it isn't always natural, comfortable, and reciprocal and thus not always conducive to my own happiness and well-being.
---
Thoughts on vulnerability:
Having arrived at the above conclusion about the possibility of forming relationships with people, the task at hand, then, is to determine the subset of people with whom I'd be happy and comfortable maintaining a close relationship with.
I consider myself pretty well-versed in the literature surrounding attraction, human prosocial behavior, personality psychology, etcetc. So far, I've found that this gives me surprisingly good control over the emotional atmosphere of social situations, even if I'm not doing so very conspicuously or outwardly. Subtle non-verbal cues and changes in diction and tone all help. A recurring theme in conversation between S- and I is how much potential someone who understands how people think and act has to be manipulative, for good or bad.
However, as someone who is very concerned with his own emotional well-being and happiness, I am very conscious not to let my psychology antics interfere with my social interactions. It would only be to my own detriment to disturb the natural course of social situations, because it hinders my ability to get to know people and how they respond to me in my own natural way.
I think what's helped me the most in figuring out who the people I want to surround myself with is to make myself vulnerable to people. I got into the habit of doing so with some of my close friends because it helps me deal with my inner turmoils to try to put things to words. Everyone has vulnerabilities; the worst that could happen is that yours fall on deaf ears, and you can just avoid sharing personal details to them in the future. However, you might find some comfort from them, or encourage them to share some of their own vulnerabilities, and that opens the gates for building an emotional connection.
The concept of vulnerabilities has baffled me for a while now. It means so many different things to different people, and there's so many types of it. I like the idea of a deep body of water with gates along the way because it analogizes nicely to emotional depth. For me, I don't open up to people immediately, and it takes a little getting to know and convincing (usually indirectly; at some point I decide I trust you whether you know it or not) for me to open up. A diver in my emotional depths would have some clean spring water to get through before reaching a gate, and they'll have to find some way to open it. Once past the gate, however, how far you desire to explore is entirely up to you; the waters are a bit more murky, more muddy, so more viscous, but I will continue to share my inner feelings with you so long as you keep expressing genuine concern or desire to get to know me. Only towards the end is there a final gate, which takes a lot of time and commitment to open. Very few people ever get there, but if you do the emotions come out like like a geyser at the very core: extremely heated or impassioned thoughts, usually in short bursts of sentimentality, and it is very easy to be pushed back out of that last gate if you don't put enough effort into growing our relationship.
But that's just me. For other people, there might not be any gate, just muddy water all the way through. For some people, it's gate after gate after gate each hiding away crystal clear water, with friends being sorted into multiple tiers of closeness, and each tier being revealed the same personal details with utmost transparency.
Moreover, what if the vulnerability comes across unintentionally? What if someone notices you crying in what you thought was the privacy of your room, or the shower, or your favorite secluded spot on campus? That's like being a maintenance repairmen for one of the gates, and getting a free pass directly through that gate whether the gate is open or not. Can a close relationship be formed under these circumstances?
I certainly think so. S- and I have talked a lot about a desire to help people achieve what we perceive as their potential. We want to make people we care about into the fantastic people we can imagine them being, even if we honestly have no right to. Now that I think about it, being on the receiving side of unintentional vulnerability simply allows you to better understand someone. Whether they like it or not, you are now better to appreciate them as a whole than most.
One of my favorite quotes of all time, by Neale Donald Walsch: “The purpose of relationship is not to have another who might complete you, but to have another with whom you might share your completeness.” The more I think about it that way, the more it feels an obligation for you to try to be there for someone when they become unintentionally vulnerable to you. You were able to witness their completeness, embrace it, share it with them.
At SBS retreat this past weekend, our talk questions sort of reached a critical point as far as seriousness or depth, which had been mounting over the past few quarters. I remember the first talk questions were silly things like "which starter Pokemon would you be and why?" Through the talk responses at retreat, I found that my observations of many people's behavior and hunches about some of their personalities or insecurities were pretty spot on. I feel like I might've inadverdently broken the ice at retreat for talking about especially heavy topics.
In retrospect, I am so glad I did because I feel much closer to many members of SBS for having done so, but I also can't help but recall how uncomfortable it was doing so. I was way out of my comfort zone, not sure if I was sharing too openly and that was making people uneasy or bored or coming across as insincere. I was also unsure how to best express empathy, striking a balance between showing concern and being too nosy or awkward, towards the people whose experiences I could draw parallels to in my life.
The takeaway, in my head at least, was that I clearly need to not cower from initiating attempts at forming deeper emotional connections with people. Perceptiveness and empathy are some of my greatest strengths, and as someone whose sense of fulfillment is fundamentally rooted in what I mean to or can be for others, I need to learn to step out of my comfort zone to make myself happier. Building deep emotional connections is precisely what I want and would be happy with in a relationship, so don't settle for shallow relationships even if I'm capable of maintaining those too simply because I'm too conscientious to move the relationship to that stage.
In a nutshell:
Not everyone is your soulmate, though you can sort of convince yourself of it, because there is a difference between the feasibility of maintaining a relationship and how happy doing so actually makes you. Everyone has vulnerabilities, but vary greatly in what they are and willingness to share them. It is better to share your vulnerability with others and sincerely try to be there for them even if it seems uncomfortable than to let it brew because unless you take a shot you'll never know how they express vulnerability. The worst that could happen is that you don't learn anything about them, but at least they'll know you care.
---
Thoughts on soulmates:
A few weeks ago, S- sent me a link to this article urging people to marry young. Her main argument was that soul mates aren't found, they're made out of the person you marry. My first reaction to the article was that I could totally see where the author was coming from. I didn't necessarily agree with her for a variety reasons. Her premise simply didn't happen in the marriages in my life, namely my parents. But I could see how romantic relationships, including my own, could follow such a trajectory. I like to think that, unlike my parents, I put a substantial amount of effort into my relationships and am decent at making them work.
As someone who generally trusts people until they prove unworthy of it and finds solace from my own troubles by reaching emotional depths in relationships with other people, I certainly would not reject the idea of marrying someone with complete faith that post-marriage I will establish an emotional connection (i.e. become soul mates) with them, even if that connection hadn't been established pre-engagement. Unlikely, but possible. I can just as easily see how that idea would be completely repulsive to others; some people naturally have all their walls up, and only that special person can chip away at them until they come down, and only then are they comfortable committing to a life-long relationship. I respect both viewpoints.
With these thoughts came a somewhat nightmarish realization--if I can essentially fall in love with anyone, why the hell should I not marry the next girl that passes me by on the street? I can establish a meaningful connection with her, right?
A nice conversation with J- served as a good reality check. There were a good number of holes in the author's argument. Obviously, she didn't just marry any ol' bimbo; she had been with her eventual husband for at least a little while. That's a little more comforting--I do think that I am good enough at human interaction to make any long-term commitments that I am actually interested in (as opposed to a relationship with a random stranger) work, romantic or otherwise. Furthermore, after J- brought it up it seemed so obvious: the argument seemed almost traditionalist. Marry someone without knowing where it'll go expecting that the relationship will grow from there, almost borderline arranged marriage (though psychology studies show that divorce rates don't actually differ between arranged and self-chosen couples, so nothing against it), as if marriage were a business transaction. That simply isn't how I want my relationships to be. I want my relationships to be with people I am happy with right from the get-go.
Recently, a variety of different things, however, are convincing me of something I'm deeply saddened by. Feelings of attraction can be very easily manipulated as we learned in PSYCH 70. Indeed, it seems that my stupid, feeble mind is actually quite susceptible to what is only supposed to be banter about my love life from N-. Call it conformity or priming or what have you--it seems to have an effect.
I borrowed Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman from E-, and as far as I can tell that an understanding of love languages can be applied beyond just a romantic relationship you're invested in. In that sense, it seems that, with sufficient practice, I can speak any love language, even if it isn't my preferred one, to better be able to be there for someone in their times of sorrow or share in their moments of joy. In that sense, it almost becomes possible to be "compatible" with anybody.
The idea that you can be compatible with anybody, though I don't exactly buy it, is scary as hell. Sure, it will facilitate smooth relationships, but does it also threaten your relationships at the same time because you so easily mesh with others? While consoling and comforting K- through the recent relationship rockiness she's been experiencing, she told me that any girl would be lucky to have me as a boyfriend. That's generally considered one of those classic, somewhat demoralizing tip-off phrases for friendzoning, but in this context where she knows I'm interested in someone else, it made me think a little.
Scotty McClellan's Valentine's Day sermon from my love class had a section where he denounced passionate, romantic love as a mere projection of one's own concept of other people upon them, and when people defy your image of them, the mirage of love dissolves. When I first read that, the idealist in me kicked in and was revolted, because I absolutely believe that romantic love exists and is valuable. However, now that I think about it more, the whole idea of projecting your image of others on to others, though not strictly a synonym to romantic love, is sometimes found in relationships.
As someone who values peace and harmony in interpersonal interactions, I often find myself in sort of a social chameleon mode, and that makes me susceptible to have others' impressions or images of me projected upon me. I feel very guilty when I can't be what others expect of me; this is healthy when there is mutuality in that aspect of my relationships, but when there is not, I simply lose sight of myself and the relationship is not healthy. In other words, sure I'd be a fantastic relationship partner for many people, but it would not be a healthy relationship at least for me.
What it really comes down to, I suppose, is the difference between being capable of and being happy in maintaining a good relationship with someone. The conclusion I seem to be arriving at so far is that I'd be capable of maintaining a caring, compassionate relationship (platonic and romantic both) with most people, but it isn't always natural, comfortable, and reciprocal and thus not always conducive to my own happiness and well-being.
---
Thoughts on vulnerability:
Having arrived at the above conclusion about the possibility of forming relationships with people, the task at hand, then, is to determine the subset of people with whom I'd be happy and comfortable maintaining a close relationship with.
I consider myself pretty well-versed in the literature surrounding attraction, human prosocial behavior, personality psychology, etcetc. So far, I've found that this gives me surprisingly good control over the emotional atmosphere of social situations, even if I'm not doing so very conspicuously or outwardly. Subtle non-verbal cues and changes in diction and tone all help. A recurring theme in conversation between S- and I is how much potential someone who understands how people think and act has to be manipulative, for good or bad.
However, as someone who is very concerned with his own emotional well-being and happiness, I am very conscious not to let my psychology antics interfere with my social interactions. It would only be to my own detriment to disturb the natural course of social situations, because it hinders my ability to get to know people and how they respond to me in my own natural way.
I think what's helped me the most in figuring out who the people I want to surround myself with is to make myself vulnerable to people. I got into the habit of doing so with some of my close friends because it helps me deal with my inner turmoils to try to put things to words. Everyone has vulnerabilities; the worst that could happen is that yours fall on deaf ears, and you can just avoid sharing personal details to them in the future. However, you might find some comfort from them, or encourage them to share some of their own vulnerabilities, and that opens the gates for building an emotional connection.
The concept of vulnerabilities has baffled me for a while now. It means so many different things to different people, and there's so many types of it. I like the idea of a deep body of water with gates along the way because it analogizes nicely to emotional depth. For me, I don't open up to people immediately, and it takes a little getting to know and convincing (usually indirectly; at some point I decide I trust you whether you know it or not) for me to open up. A diver in my emotional depths would have some clean spring water to get through before reaching a gate, and they'll have to find some way to open it. Once past the gate, however, how far you desire to explore is entirely up to you; the waters are a bit more murky, more muddy, so more viscous, but I will continue to share my inner feelings with you so long as you keep expressing genuine concern or desire to get to know me. Only towards the end is there a final gate, which takes a lot of time and commitment to open. Very few people ever get there, but if you do the emotions come out like like a geyser at the very core: extremely heated or impassioned thoughts, usually in short bursts of sentimentality, and it is very easy to be pushed back out of that last gate if you don't put enough effort into growing our relationship.
But that's just me. For other people, there might not be any gate, just muddy water all the way through. For some people, it's gate after gate after gate each hiding away crystal clear water, with friends being sorted into multiple tiers of closeness, and each tier being revealed the same personal details with utmost transparency.
Moreover, what if the vulnerability comes across unintentionally? What if someone notices you crying in what you thought was the privacy of your room, or the shower, or your favorite secluded spot on campus? That's like being a maintenance repairmen for one of the gates, and getting a free pass directly through that gate whether the gate is open or not. Can a close relationship be formed under these circumstances?
I certainly think so. S- and I have talked a lot about a desire to help people achieve what we perceive as their potential. We want to make people we care about into the fantastic people we can imagine them being, even if we honestly have no right to. Now that I think about it, being on the receiving side of unintentional vulnerability simply allows you to better understand someone. Whether they like it or not, you are now better to appreciate them as a whole than most.
One of my favorite quotes of all time, by Neale Donald Walsch: “The purpose of relationship is not to have another who might complete you, but to have another with whom you might share your completeness.” The more I think about it that way, the more it feels an obligation for you to try to be there for someone when they become unintentionally vulnerable to you. You were able to witness their completeness, embrace it, share it with them.
At SBS retreat this past weekend, our talk questions sort of reached a critical point as far as seriousness or depth, which had been mounting over the past few quarters. I remember the first talk questions were silly things like "which starter Pokemon would you be and why?" Through the talk responses at retreat, I found that my observations of many people's behavior and hunches about some of their personalities or insecurities were pretty spot on. I feel like I might've inadverdently broken the ice at retreat for talking about especially heavy topics.
In retrospect, I am so glad I did because I feel much closer to many members of SBS for having done so, but I also can't help but recall how uncomfortable it was doing so. I was way out of my comfort zone, not sure if I was sharing too openly and that was making people uneasy or bored or coming across as insincere. I was also unsure how to best express empathy, striking a balance between showing concern and being too nosy or awkward, towards the people whose experiences I could draw parallels to in my life.
The takeaway, in my head at least, was that I clearly need to not cower from initiating attempts at forming deeper emotional connections with people. Perceptiveness and empathy are some of my greatest strengths, and as someone whose sense of fulfillment is fundamentally rooted in what I mean to or can be for others, I need to learn to step out of my comfort zone to make myself happier. Building deep emotional connections is precisely what I want and would be happy with in a relationship, so don't settle for shallow relationships even if I'm capable of maintaining those too simply because I'm too conscientious to move the relationship to that stage.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Overactive Imagination?
Very often, I have this introspective dilemma where something someone says or writes haunts me for hours or days. A lot of times, it's accompanied by the self-doubt where I think that I'm reading too much into things, but I always end up concluding that it's better too assume that all the subtexts are actually there because it's better safe than sorry, in a weird way.
I feel like it's a perpetuation of an arguably traumatic elementary school (I think?) lesson on subliminal messaging. It was about how the media portrays things or something, and how advertising tries to infiltrate your subconscious. I also remember that Sprite commercial from years ago that was titled or nicknamed or something "Subliminal Messaging" and had a lot of people partying and holding Sprite bottles while they danced and it ended without ever actually having the word "Sprite" in plain font and it freaked me out.
Basically, when I hear or read things, mostly from people I know, that might have something to do with me, I frequently assume it is for me. It's like those teachers that tell the entire class something and then follow it up with "you know who you are" and everyone in the class assumes its them even though it's actually nobody. Unless I'm just making that up from some article I might've read from a psychology blog, or about Nazis.
I think it boils down to me not being able to tell when something is relevant to me, or merely relatable for me. There are times when it's remarkably clear that something is relevant; usually that's the easy one. It's easy to tell when something definitely is meant for my eyes or ears. But when things aren't meant for me, it becomes hazy in my mind. I think this also makes me self-centered, which carries a pretty negative connotation. Maybe paranoia or self-conscious is better, but I feel like this isn't necessarily an inhibition or like some mental handicap; instead, it helps me become a better person because I assume criticisms are about me. I am totally not sure at all.
And guilt, that's a whole different thing. I'm almost sure I can guilt trip myself. If I don't live up to my own expectations, I then feel guilty about doing all the things which I attribute to my failure. It is so easy to guilt trip me, and I can recognize it's a guilt trip, and I'll still fall for it. I guess this makes it so that it's pretty easy to use me, and I think I'm getting better at barricading my brain from unfounded accusations or negativity, but it's still a struggle right now.
I guess it's not really a whole different thing. So often I feel the need to assume responsibility for things that aren't necessarily my fault, and of course the guilt is doubly or more worse when I know that it's about me. And it's a horrible feeling. I distinctly remember back in 8th grade a friend of mine wrote on her blog that guilt is a magnifying glass of pain, and I loved that analogy.
You'd think knowing this problem would make it easier to deal with it. I thought so too, and after coming to this realization a couple of months ago, and then talking to a few likeminded people about it--fortunately, I might add, it appears I'm not the only one who sucks at dealing with guilt--today, in a casual conversation I totally fell into this sort of mental trap and didn't realize it until she told me "it's okay, I [just] love making people feel unnecessarily guilty." Wow, great going, self.
All in all though, I'm not sure I would trade how I approach emotions and people for a different way. Even though I always assume the worst, I feel like in the long run it'll be better than always assuming the best. Because there certainly are times when I just hit a low point and am ashamed of myself whether others are or not, and I firmly believe that that shame will be a better catalyst for personal change or growth than people telling me outright that I need to change, because I can be really stubborn.
Wow my last two weeks with regards to someone totally makes sense now. You will never get me to do anything about my stubbornness telling it to my face, but after a little reflection you've caused me to kind of embrace it as a flaw I need to change I think? Whatever happened, thanks. I hope we never not talk again.
I feel like it's a perpetuation of an arguably traumatic elementary school (I think?) lesson on subliminal messaging. It was about how the media portrays things or something, and how advertising tries to infiltrate your subconscious. I also remember that Sprite commercial from years ago that was titled or nicknamed or something "Subliminal Messaging" and had a lot of people partying and holding Sprite bottles while they danced and it ended without ever actually having the word "Sprite" in plain font and it freaked me out.
Basically, when I hear or read things, mostly from people I know, that might have something to do with me, I frequently assume it is for me. It's like those teachers that tell the entire class something and then follow it up with "you know who you are" and everyone in the class assumes its them even though it's actually nobody. Unless I'm just making that up from some article I might've read from a psychology blog, or about Nazis.
I think it boils down to me not being able to tell when something is relevant to me, or merely relatable for me. There are times when it's remarkably clear that something is relevant; usually that's the easy one. It's easy to tell when something definitely is meant for my eyes or ears. But when things aren't meant for me, it becomes hazy in my mind. I think this also makes me self-centered, which carries a pretty negative connotation. Maybe paranoia or self-conscious is better, but I feel like this isn't necessarily an inhibition or like some mental handicap; instead, it helps me become a better person because I assume criticisms are about me. I am totally not sure at all.
And guilt, that's a whole different thing. I'm almost sure I can guilt trip myself. If I don't live up to my own expectations, I then feel guilty about doing all the things which I attribute to my failure. It is so easy to guilt trip me, and I can recognize it's a guilt trip, and I'll still fall for it. I guess this makes it so that it's pretty easy to use me, and I think I'm getting better at barricading my brain from unfounded accusations or negativity, but it's still a struggle right now.
I guess it's not really a whole different thing. So often I feel the need to assume responsibility for things that aren't necessarily my fault, and of course the guilt is doubly or more worse when I know that it's about me. And it's a horrible feeling. I distinctly remember back in 8th grade a friend of mine wrote on her blog that guilt is a magnifying glass of pain, and I loved that analogy.
You'd think knowing this problem would make it easier to deal with it. I thought so too, and after coming to this realization a couple of months ago, and then talking to a few likeminded people about it--fortunately, I might add, it appears I'm not the only one who sucks at dealing with guilt--today, in a casual conversation I totally fell into this sort of mental trap and didn't realize it until she told me "it's okay, I [just] love making people feel unnecessarily guilty." Wow, great going, self.
All in all though, I'm not sure I would trade how I approach emotions and people for a different way. Even though I always assume the worst, I feel like in the long run it'll be better than always assuming the best. Because there certainly are times when I just hit a low point and am ashamed of myself whether others are or not, and I firmly believe that that shame will be a better catalyst for personal change or growth than people telling me outright that I need to change, because I can be really stubborn.
Wow my last two weeks with regards to someone totally makes sense now. You will never get me to do anything about my stubbornness telling it to my face, but after a little reflection you've caused me to kind of embrace it as a flaw I need to change I think? Whatever happened, thanks. I hope we never not talk again.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Some recent meaningful episodes of communication
In the past 24 hours, three people have really taken the time to just communicate to me.
One of the conversations wasn't pleasant at all--far from it, actually, and it left me in a terrible and irritable mood--but it was meaningful and deep nevertheless. It was about friendship and grudges, and the conversation was had face-to-face, and I liked that. It ended on a horrible note though, with the two of us stubbornly insisting that we'd never talk to each other again, and I'm not sure if I meant that. On the one hand, I felt that she was being extremely immature and not respecting my opinion, and also not understanding everything I've been through when it comes to family and robotics. On the other hand, I feel like she had good intentions, but simply conveyed it terribly and immaturely.
The other two came in the form of handwritten letters. Both of them were thought-provoking and a little on the flattering side, though both authors made sure to clarify that no flattery was intended, and they were simply speaking the truth. In any case, they were really heartfelt, and I kind of got goosebumps as I read them. I have a need to be needed or appreciated, and satisfying that need isn't an everyday occurrence.
Perhaps the saddest thing is that in all three of these cases, the people involved I've known for two years or fewer. I have way more to say writing in the yearbooks of people I haven't been in classes with for upwards of four or five years. I'd like to believe that it's not because we've grown apart with time, but that it's simply a personality kind of thing, that even if I had been with the same people for only a year, I'd have just as little to say to them. Ultimately, I think that it'll become apparent soon with the inevitable distance as we go off to college which of my friends I miss and which I don't.
One of the conversations wasn't pleasant at all--far from it, actually, and it left me in a terrible and irritable mood--but it was meaningful and deep nevertheless. It was about friendship and grudges, and the conversation was had face-to-face, and I liked that. It ended on a horrible note though, with the two of us stubbornly insisting that we'd never talk to each other again, and I'm not sure if I meant that. On the one hand, I felt that she was being extremely immature and not respecting my opinion, and also not understanding everything I've been through when it comes to family and robotics. On the other hand, I feel like she had good intentions, but simply conveyed it terribly and immaturely.
The other two came in the form of handwritten letters. Both of them were thought-provoking and a little on the flattering side, though both authors made sure to clarify that no flattery was intended, and they were simply speaking the truth. In any case, they were really heartfelt, and I kind of got goosebumps as I read them. I have a need to be needed or appreciated, and satisfying that need isn't an everyday occurrence.
Perhaps the saddest thing is that in all three of these cases, the people involved I've known for two years or fewer. I have way more to say writing in the yearbooks of people I haven't been in classes with for upwards of four or five years. I'd like to believe that it's not because we've grown apart with time, but that it's simply a personality kind of thing, that even if I had been with the same people for only a year, I'd have just as little to say to them. Ultimately, I think that it'll become apparent soon with the inevitable distance as we go off to college which of my friends I miss and which I don't.
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