Vulnerability

[missroserose]

"I got to thinking—when it was too late—you have to reach out to people. To your family, too. You can't just let them sit there, you should put your hand out. If they slap it back, well you reach out again...if you care enough."

--Cynthia Voigt, Dicey's Song


I read that book (along with Homecoming, the first in the series) in sixth grade. That was the pull quote on the back cover.

Mostly, they haven't left a significant impact in my memory. I remember enjoying the first one - it had a very straightforward plot (children abandoned by depressed mother try to make it to their grandmother's on their own), and remember admiring the Tillerman children's resourcefulness. But the second - where the children settle into life with their grandmother, not the most caring and demonstrative sort herself - sort of lost me.

My younger childhood was rather socially isolated. My family lived in Alaska, and aside from my uncle and grandmother, we had no local relatives. My parents' marriage was dysfunctional enough that they had few friends, and almost none they were close to. I was a weird kid, a little too smart for my own good, adept (for my age) in the ways of the adult world but completely lost in the social environment of my peers. So I don't think I had quite enough experience, either firsthand or observational, in the emotional quicksand of relationships to be able to really relate to a story that was largely about the rewards and risks involved in such relationships. About that tricky balance of immediate vulnerability versus future regret, and how to figure out where your personal fulcrum point is.

But something about that quote stuck with me, enough that I still remember it, nearly two decades down the line. At the time, I remember thinking it seemed pretty obvious - isn't reaching out and connecting with people what relationships are all about? Why would someone slap your hand away if you were obviously trying to help?

Ever the patient teachers, time and experience have long since disabused me of this notion. Enough to where I've become fairly picky about who I reach out to, and when, and what I offer when I do. Like everyone, I have a particular skillset. I'm artistically talented, of course, but in relationships that tends to be secondary to a simple fact: I'm good at understanding people. I have a better-than-average knowledge of human nature, of people's desires and their foibles. Some of it's conscious, a lot of it's intuitive, but it's something I've actively worked to develop, even after giving up psychology as a degree path. I find the twists and turns of the human psyche fascinating. The things we want, and the things we tell ourselves we want. The justifications, the defense mechanisms. The pretenses we keep up for so long that they become truth. The kernel of truth that hides in every lie that we believe.

A lot of people come to me for advice - sometimes people I barely know. I can't even tell you how many times I've heard some variation on "I'm not sure why, but I feel like I can trust you." I've always liked the multiple layers of that phrase. People trust me to keep their secrets. They trust that I won't make snap judgments about them. They trust me to offer insight and advice worth considering, whether or not they ultimately take it.

But I also have to remember that some people - occasionally, people I consider good friends - aren't going to trust me. And this isn't necessarily a reflection on me, or anything I've done wrong, but just where they are right now. And if I try to give them advice where it's not wanted, or assume that they trust me because so many other people do, they're going to think I'm being sanctimonious, or trying to tell them how to live their life. And they're going to get angry, like anyone does when you poke at their sore places without permission.

It hurts, like any rejection hurts. It hurts more when it happens with someone I consider a good friend, because I value mental and emotional intimacy so much, and being forcibly told that I am not welcome strikes at the very heart of what I consider friendship to be about. It hurts especially then because I value quality over quantity in friendships, because I do my best to curate who I'm going to invest my time and energy in building a relationship. (Not to mention it's a bit of a blow to my ego, since obviously I've misjudged something.)

But the fact is, without relationships, life is pretty damn pointless. If we don't reach out and help each other to be better, help to support each others' weaknesses and play to each others' strengths, things start looking awful bleak.

Sometimes, that just means accepting where someone is now, and being willing to meet them there.

Comments

[peacefulleigh]

I doubt it's a lack of trust. You're framing it that way, but it may be just that you're not hearing their needs. Maybe they need you to listen and not try to fix it. Maybe they need you to love them and tell them it's going to be okay without needing to know every detail, because they're just not ready to tell the story. Maybe they need you to just be there and not try to psychoanalyze them because they want to figure themselves out for themselves, not having someone else tell them who they are. Does that make any sense? None of those are due to a lack of trust in you. You're so careful in choosing your friends, I can't imagine you'd have anyone in your circle who secretly mistrusts you.

[missroserose]

You're very kind. :) All of that is certainly possible, but in this case, it was specifically framed as a lack of trust by the other person. It's not secret, or personal - they've mentioned on multiple occasions that they're uncomfortable sharing this part of themselves with anyone. But it seemed to be eating at them particularly hard at that point, and I thought it might be an appropriate moment to ask. But either I went about it poorly, or they're just not ready (and may never be ready) to talk about it, or both. Probably both.

[peacefulleigh]

Nothing for you to do then, other than just let them know you're not afraid of going into dark places if and when they decide to brave them.

[missroserose]

Yeah. :/ That's largely why I wrote this post, to remind myself not to take it personally and that it's okay to accept that some people aren't comfortable sharing. It's just difficult, seeing someone you care about torment themselves.