Ridiculous

For Empathy and Understanding

I began writing a post yesterday afternoon in an extremely frustrated mood after having one of the most annoying conversations I’ve had in a long time. I wrote a lengthy explanation of the conversation and who the annoying guy (none of you reading this are said person, by the way) involved was. It went on and on and I saved it intending to finish it tonight, but upon reading it, I’ve decided not to give you the long-winded version of this incident full of back story and complicatedness to communicate a relatively simple but defining thing about me. Or at least I see it that way.

I love that human beings are exceedingly complicated. I love that it’s difficult to pick apart a persons actions and ideas and morals and background and character and beliefs enough to make any kind of sense of it. I love that the closest we can really get to understanding each other comes from acting from compassion and empathy. I love all of it despite the fact that it makes things much more difficult. That being said, I do my best to respect that complication, difference, and diversity. In this frustrating conversation yesterday, I found myself acting defensively because this person who didn’t know me well (acquaintances at best) tried to tell me what kind of person I am with no reasonable basis. I have a difficult time allowing someone else to tell me who I am and I would never dare force my judgements of someone, good, bad, or neutral, which was really the case here, on someone else. It had very little to do with the accusations he was making but more so the fact that he felt justified in revealing those judgements to me.
Who am I to do so?

And that’s all I have to say about that.

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