She owned her s#&!
I had enough. Enough with disregarding the hurt. Enough with shoving aside my emotions. Enough with ignoring my intuition.
Expressing myself in writing, in conversation, in all ways, isn’t typically a tough task for me. I am clear and lovingly direct with my husband, kids, besties, heck, even strangers. To my surprise, I learned this month about a pivotal part of my communication style that apparently needs work. I sometimes avoid confronting a loved one to my own detriment. Who likes conflict anyway?
Maintaining harmony recently clouded a truth I needed to speak. I didn’t want to hurt my friend’s feelings. Ironic, too, because she hurt mine.
But I couldn’t take it anymore. And my friend wasn’t getting the hints. As the days passed, the hurt festered, becoming frustration and disappointment. Shouldn’t one of your dearest friends be able to read your mind? No. That is unfair. That is unkind. And it’s not how I function in the abundant relationships for which I am beyond grateful. I also know what I’d say if a person asked me about a similar situation.
If this relationship matters to you, speak your truth directly and with kindness. Again, I wondered why I’d held back. I write or meditate rather than respond reactively; this reflective pause wasn’t out of character for me. I personally feel it is compassionate to do so.
I whittled down the emotion blocking the flow of words. Fear. Fear that I’d upset my friend (Irrational, right? I was the one who was upset). Fear of conflict (We’d never had any in our years of friendship!). Like tracing a line of ants to their home, I let my thoughts meander, and they landed on the source of the fear. I cannot stand when people I love are hurting. I literally have and do feel their pain viscerally. What if I hurt my friend’s feelings by sharing mine?
What if. The question those of us in the author community obsessively ask ourselves as we write drafts, edit chapters, and create characters. What if I don’t speak up? What if my friend has NO idea she’s hurt me? What if our reciprocal, raw relationship disintegrates because of an invisible wedge? One that I created simply by silencing myself.
I texted her that we need to speak–soon. And talk we did. My gosh if I could’ve recorded our conversation to share with you I would have. Not only was she unaware that she’d hurt me, but she owned it fully. She owned her shit. Big time. And without hesitation.
“I am so sorry. You are right. I should’ve been there. And I should’ve checked in and followed up with you,” she said, her voice hitching.
Marveling at her humility, I told her how much I appreciated her receptivity. I expressed that showing up is incredibly important to me. The lack of connection after I’d shared something vulnerable must’ve activated remnants of earlier life experiences.
After our marathon phone call, my friend stopped by to give me a hug. We chatted, hugged, and laughed as she wiped tears from her cheeks. I thanked her over and over for listening actively and receiving the feedback with an open heart. I know it couldn’t have been easy.
Then I asked her if there’s anything she wanted to discuss. I also realized that I should’ve spoken up sooner. And we promised each other in the future to address whatever may arise head on and right away.
What did I learn?
Fight back when fear creeps in so it doesn’t win.
Listen to my instincts and trust them consistently.
Accept that whatever is revealed needs to surface.
Know thyself and thy friend.
I know she’s a sweet soul who is empathetic and insightful. We vibe at similar frequencies. Other people I adore are not as receptive, and that is okay. The bottom line? Meet people where they’re at but don’t silence yourself in the process.
As always, I have questions and would love to hear from you:
Do you have a tough time telling someone when you’re hurt?
Have you ever expressed your feelings and been surprised by the reaction?