The Struggle Is Real

Over the years I’ve identified some of my less pleasant traits:

• Stubbornness
• Feistiness in response to a perceived challenge
• An inability to mask emotion
• … coupled with a voice that gets louder when I get excited/upset

Now, I’m fully aware any of these traits can be construed as positive in the right situation. So why am I labeling them as “negative”?

Because in the “wrong” situations they don’t serve me. They don’t bring me closer to the things that I want.

And what do I want most? Crave, even?

Connection. To be understood and to understand.

Old Habits Die Hard

Last week a meeting was canceled with no advance warning. When I arrived, I started asking questions. I started explaining things in response to the answers to those questions.

I was frustrated, and along with that apparently I was loud.

At the time, that was not my perception. I was just trying to gain clarity about what had happened, why it happened, and what could happen in the future to not repeat it.

But the person I was addressing felt very attacked. I didn’t realize how strongly they felt this way until today, when I had a follow-up meeting about the incident before the start of school.

Doing Things Differently

That meeting tested just about every communication skill that I’ve ever gained. And it poked at every, single raw place in my heart that has been in a situation like this.

While in my mind, I knew that I hadn’t been as kind as I aim to be in life, I didn’t realize I had come off so harshly. I had already apologized to the person for “bumping up against them” on that day, but I didn’t realize how negatively they viewed that incident.

And I didn’t realize I had been loud. We had been talking. When I look back on that, my voice might have been a bit elevated. But apparently, multiple people heard and were going to check on the situation before we moved into an office. Certainly at the moment, if I had realized that, I would not have continued. And I don’t remember it that way, which is hard to reconcile.

During this follow-up, I was able to express my perception as well. I was able to express my memories of it, and my intent at the time. Often these didn’t match up with the other person’s perception, but I was also able to show how two people could experience the same thing differently. (i.e. I thought we were having a discussion about the problem, while the other person feeling attacked.)

The follow-up meeting was actually quite productive. I think Brené Brown would qualify it as a “rumble”:

…a discussion, conversation, or meeting defined by a commitment to lean into vulnerability, to stay curious and generous, to stick with the messy middle of problem identification and solving, to take a break and circle back when necessary, to be fearless in owning our parts, and, as psychologist Harriet Lerner teaches, to listen with the same passion with which we want to be heard.

Brené Brown – Dare to Lead

While the follow-up meeting was productive and felt … healthy … it was emotional for me. I was assigned labels I’ve been assigned my whole life:

• unprofessional
• aggressive
• loud

The Aftermath

I cried during the meeting. Not so much for the labels themselves, but because of the shame I feel when I am confronted with them. Yet again… They poked a hole in the dam, releasing a flood of pent up emotion.

And even though I left that meeting feeling Ok about the original incident and with the person I had the follow-up meeting, the emotion of the meeting was not easy to let go.

There was no hiding the fact I was crying when I walked out of the room. People asked if I was Ok. I said yes, and mostly just needed to not talk to anyone for a few minutes to get my shit together.

I went to the restroom. I tried deep breathing. I thought I was good, but then another thought would pop in or someone else would ask if I was Ok and I’d start crying again. Kids and adults checked in on me, which I really appreciate. But I couldn’t stop crying.

I tried to fake it going into my first period. After 15 minutes I realized it wasn’t going to work. My students knew something was up. They were super quiet. I literally couldn’t stop crying. I texted my department chair, who had planning that period. I asked if she would cover for me. I went to the planning office.

After 45 minutes of deep breathing, eyes closed, I went back. It took me that long to get the tears mostly out of my system. Enough that I felt Ok to go back to class.

There were only 25 minutes or so left. At the end of class, students said they hoped I felt better. One said I should let them know if they could do anything. These acts of kindness started the waterworks again.

Physically there was no hiding it. Red eyes, red face. If anyone had directly asked me what was up, I was going to joke that I’d been hanging out in the hallway too long (people like to smoke weed in the bathroom next door, which wafts into the hallway).

During the period change, some students and teachers asked if I was Ok. “Sure.” “Yes.” Tears welled in my eyes, but it wasn’t as intense as before. And what else could I say? I probably could have gone home, but I would have felt super guilty sticking my peers with my students on a testing day. So I stayed.

The passing period continued. (Funny how long 5 minutes can seem.) A girl I didn’t know walked by and asked if I was Ok. I looked her in the eye and said yes. I gave a little explanation. I thanked her for asking (as I did with everyone else who asked about me) as she walked away.

Then she came back and asked me again. I was forced to give a more detailed answer. “Was it a loss?” “No,” I admitted. I felt silly that it wasn’t something as dire as all of that. Emotionally I was feeling ok. The tears just weren’t stopping. She gave me a hug. I asked her name (something like Violet). She gave me another hug, wished me well, and went to class. I thanked her again as she walked away.

After this, I was mostly ok. Exhausted but ok. Fortunately, my students were largely working on projects, so I didn’t need to “perform” much. My eyes and face must have gone back to normal, because no one really said anything indicating they thought something was wrong.

Reflecting

I thought hard about blogging about this. I decided to do so for a few reasons. The biggest being that I want my blog to honestly represent me. And, as I recently posted, things are not all happy-go-lucky in my land right now. And while that may explain my bad behavior, it doesn’t give me a pass to be a jerk to people.

Another reason I chose to blog about this, is because I remember who I used to be. I remember the person who would have to deal with the repercussions of an explosive temperament much more often: with my husband, coworkers, friends. I’m not like that anymore. Even when issues like this pop up, they aren’t as intense as they could be when I was 20. I am getting better at communicating in situations of conflict.

I’m glad the follow-up meeting happened, even though it was emotionally charged. I’m glad I was speaking with someone who was willing to listen to hard things in addition to saying them. I’m proud of myself for listening and not getting defensive.

I’m writing because I’m proud I asked for help. I could have remained weepy and weird in my class, but I reached out to someone to cover for me. I accepted hugs from that student. These are things I might have turned away once-upon-a-time.

Another thing I’ve been thinking about in association with this is: how does one get practice communicating in situations that push all of the buttons without actually being in conflict? I’m fortunate this doesn’t happen as often anymore, but how can I get better? How can I create communications that bring me closer to the things I want?

For that one, I guess that’s why I’m back in counseling.