He said/She said.

I have a love/hate relationship with communication.

It is fascinating, exhausting, frustrating, and extremely important to me.

I took a class on the psychology of interpersonal relationships. I learned a great deal about the different methods of communication people employ, which, don't get me wrong, is incredibly enlightening in and of itself. However, I wish more time had been spent discussing compromise; how two people of varying communication styles can interact in a clear and (hopefully) non-stressful manner. I mean, really. How am I supposed to confront someone who doesn't like confrontation?

*via text message* "I have decided not to wait until you get home to tell you that you're a dick."

"..... So, yeah. You're a dick."

How it sounds to me: "I want to talk about this in person, but I also refuse to keep my anger to myself until the next time I see you, since I feel as though I am justified in my hurt. I feel better knowing that I'm not hiding my frustration, and I would much prefer to be aggressive-aggressive, before I am unintentionally passive-aggressive."

How it sounds to him: "I am going to be an outright bitch and insult your character because of something you have already apologized for."

The problems continue, however, since the communication styles differ in terms of resolution as well. It's not enough that an emotional language barrier caused the situation in the first place, it must also try to prevent an expedient and mutually satisfactory conclusion. I immediately want to discuss it so that I don't carry my anger around with me. He wants to ignore it until he feels calmer and more capable of dealing with the situation. Either way, one of us is going to have to sacrifice more than the other.

It bothers me that there isn't an easy solution to this. It bothers me that although I technically "got what I wanted" by talking about it tonight, he is still upset by the events of the evening. It bothers me that after talking about it, and after apologies are made on both sides, I can honestly say, "I'm alright now" but all he can say is, "I will be alright."

I mean, for Christ's sake, we put a man on the moon; you'd think we'd have this interpersonal relations shit down to more of a science.

Seeking Silence

"You’re an innovator whose “thinking outside the box” in relation to behavior yields productive results. No problem is too big for you. You’re more than the “all my friends tell me their problems” type; you’re quite the loyal friend who invests in her relationships despite the depths and severity of problems experienced by your friends. You definitely make a positive impact on the lives of others and you’re relentless in your efforts toward the public good."


This was my answer after taking a silly facebook quiz to determine what kind of psychoanalyst I was. It was... Surprisingly accurate. Almost disturbingly so. Normally facebook quizes are a cinch to crack. It is quite obvious from the answer choices exactly what your outcome is going to be. This one, however, was not nearly so simple, and so to have such a strangely applicable answer when I was not expecting such is somewhat discerning. It did get me thinking, though, about how true this categorization is to me.

All growing up, my relationship towards my family was a rocky one. I literally cannot recall a time when I have gotten along with every single member of my immediate family at one specific time. Perhaps in part because of this past difficulty, I think I've been somewhat extra attentive towards my friends, always preferring to have a few close, lasting relationships than numerous shallow ones. I can't recall when exactly this pattern of behavior began, but somewhere along the way I began to sort of act in the role of not only friend and confidant, but mentor and protector as well. Whether that was an unconscious action of my own, or an unconscious expectation towards me I haven't the faintest idea. Regardless, the result is the same; namely that I am now feeling an unsettling mixture of exhaustion and frustration at the role that is now expected of me because I have willingly played it for so long, as well as guilt for selfishly desiring to cease being the problem-solver for the ones that I care about.

Of course I want to be there for them. To support them and aid them when they require my assistance. I think a part of me truly likes feeling needed by them or I would not have found myself in this particular position for so long. However, now I find that I grow incredibly weary of the sometimes seemingly constant cacophony of questions and problems that require my advice or attention. "Do you think I have commitment issues?" "Why isn't my life going the way I want it to?" "Save me from unwanted male attention, but make it appear like I still wanted it." "Do you think I'm desperate....?"

I just want to shut it all out. Just for one day. I want to be blessedly, peacefully alone for a few hours and just try to figure out what it is that I need in my life right now. I spend so much time worrying about the problems of the people I care about, that when an issue appears in my own life, it is either pushed to the side and not dealt with, or blown completely out of proportion because I haven't any sanity or patience leftover to apply to myself. Therefore, I've determined that a day of solitude is definitely in order. I'm to go off on my own for a day, to perform an activity (or perhaps lack thereof) of my own choosing, and meditate on what course of action will be best for my current mental and physical health.

However, due to the fact that I'm rather new at this 'mental health day' business, I haven't the first idea as to where I should go or what I should do. Perfectly ironic, isn't it? All of this indecision is doing horrible things for my nerves....