So I did something yesterday that hurt somebody’s feelings. Not like a horrible thing but more a “I wasn’t thinking” kinda thing. And I do that sometimes, don’t think about how something I do can and will affect somebody else.
So when the other person found out I felt like he kinda came uncorked in a text message. The reason why he messaged is understandable but the delivery came across as a bit scathing.
So I paused and prayed and what not and then replied appropriately and empathetically. I said that I understood and that I wouldn’t repeat in the future.
So then he responded with a “thank you” and that was more or less the end of it.
So that’s all fine and good. I know that his behavior is on him and I was as grown-up as I could be in my reply. Didn’t do anything to fuel the fire or make matters worse and so on.
But the thing is… it bugged me for the rest of the night. Like I have a splash of emotion swirling around this now — I feel like I could’ve responded myself with something equally aggressive(?) and been justified. Just as the other person was “justified” in what he said.
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I guess at the end of the day sometimes the only consolation we get for doing the right thing is knowing that we did. It doesn’t necessarily make us feel any better.
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I like to remember that nearly everything looks different from a distance. “In the long run…”
Good point. I’m sure when the emotions stop swirling I’ll feel a bit of gratitude for taking a higher road.
This is not necessarily a comment on the topic.
The thing is, I can snark like nobody’s business. I’ve heard that “Irish diplomacy” is the ability to tell someone to go to hell and they look forward to the trip.
I learned a lesson about being unnecessarily discourteous, and I may have learned it too well. Sometimes people really need to know they’re an asshole. I think sometimes that I’m doing just as much a disservice when I ignore idiocy as when I expose it. If I ignore too much I’m giving it the OK.
I’m probably off topic.
Self-righteous indignation is the most delicious drug I’ve ever taken. It has nearly always been the straw that broke my back.
These fucktards I work with posted something to the effect of how voting for Trump is like listening to Country Music backwards: Got his car back, His horse back, his job back and his country back.
I want to point out that he did not lose his car, job or country and he’s never had a horse.
But he’s not my monkey, and it isn’t my circus.
“Oh Senator? Love your suit!”
—H. Lector
Nope, all on topic. I have a hard time knowing in the heat of the moment when I should act on the indignation or not. On one hand it’s good for me to pause and center and then on the other I often need the moment’s heat to stand up and be counted.
I’ve come to realize that in the moment I’ll never “always” be able to do the “right” thing. Some carnivals I get a teddy bear and some I lose my ticket.
Some, I’m the show.
Bring out the GIMP!!
lol
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