Personally

I wonder how often we take what someone says or does to heart—internalizing something minute—and apply our thoughts that create a little tear in our hearts.  We maybe put more stock in simple interactions than necessary, and maybe it’s a good strategy to adjust our thinking.

Just a few examples from the past couple weeks, tiny really.  I parked next to a big truck for the music concert at school one night.  The place was packed, and Montana truck drivers generally take up more than their share of their stalls.  So I came out after a beautiful performance to find a note on my windshield.  Being the optimist and me, I thought it might be a love note from a friend who’d recognized our van.  Until I realized it was a torn envelope with a mean start, something like thanking me for parking so close.  I immediately crumpled it and refused to give it any of my time.  It still left a knot in my stomach and I asked myself over and over if I’d been wrong to park there.  I didn’t think so, I was in the middle of my space; he just had a truck that was too big and should’ve parked far away.  But maybe it was inconsiderate of me to park next to him.  There was nothing I could change at this point, he was gone.  I could stew over it or let it go.  I decided on some level writing a mean note did something for him, and so I accepted that that’s all it was about.  And I’d try to be more thoughtful next time.

I was at an appointment with my sister and gave our friend a bottle of lotion for Christmas.  She opened it and squirted some out and rubbed it in and let her friend smell it from the bottle and again when she had it on her hand.  Both times this fellow worker kind of wrinkled her nose, didn’t answer except with a miffed nothing when our friend asked didn’t it smell good.  Anyone with manners would gush—even slightly—“Wow, that’s such a Christmasy smell.” “I bet you’ll love that.” “How nice of them to think of you!” There are ways to maintain your integrity (and opinion) while creatively validating the people around you.  I just supposed she’d forgotten her manners and let her be.  I was hurt that she rejected a gift I’d brought—I was sitting right there—and that she refused to join in her co-worker’s happiness, but once again I figured this all said a lot more about her than me or my lotion.

I was doing puzzles with an 89 year old friend last week.  Several times she corrected me, telling me to do my own side of the puzzle, reminding me I had my own pieces, she could do it, etc.  So I bowed out completely and sat back.  It got to the point that I actually felt hurt inside.  Like I could cry.  Which is exactly crazy; she’s old.  Old people become like little kids all over again and so remarks are straight-forward instead of tactful.  She’s got dementia and doesn’t really know what’s going on, let alone that I’m her friend and on her team.  I had to put it all in perspective while at the same time acknowledging that I was butting in her business and that I could allow her a little more autonomy.

A friend mentioned how beautiful someone thought a mutual friend’s hair is, the perfect kind apparently.  I absolutely concurred.  But I absorbed the comment and reflected on my own short straight hair, the exact opposite of her long and curly luscious locks.  But I pulled myself together and told myself it’s a very personal preference, it doesn’t mean blunt and blond is bad, nothing like that.  It’s just an opinion.  Breathe.

Of course I hear about lunches and parties and gatherings I’m/we’re not invited to.  Obviously.  And I can choose to be disappointed and wonder why not.  Or I can let it go and be grateful for one less thing to do.  And I can remind myself that maybe it doesn’t mean we’re not friends.  Maybe it’s just a similar grouping of people and we’re not really in the mix.  And maybe I can ask myself if we’re off-putting or boorish or if there’s room for social skill improvement.

These and a million other scenarios and interactions with those around us can teach us a couple of lessons.  One is to ask ourselves if there’s any truth in what someone is saying.  Almost always, yes.  I honestly think I should’ve allowed that truck more room (it was just sooo cold!), maybe that lotion wasn’t the best smell and actually made her nauseous, maybe I should reconsider my decades-old hairstyle and color, maybe we should be the ones to invite people over more, and I have learned to allow my senior friend a little more space when we do our puzzles.

And the other is to remember most exchanges are more about the other person than us.  When someone gushes over us, it’s definitely because that person sees everything as wonderful and she simply has a rose-colored view on life and people, not so much what we’ve done.  Likewise, when we encounter grumpy people, it’s likely that it’s not really about anything we’ve said (especially if it’s as benign as “I’d like to exchange this.”); it’s got more to do with what’s going on inside their heads and where they’re coming from.

Just an observation that has helped me process these and other experiences more appropriately and healthily so I don’t end up crying in the bathroom or wasting time or journal pages over nothing.