I am not a big touchy-feely type on the outside. Like an ogre, I have layers. The top one is sweet and nice, and it makes people think I really like them. Which is true when I don’t know them. The whole reason humans invented that “politeness” stuff is so we don’t have to really know the ugly truth about each other.
The easiest way to keep a friendship from not working is to leave it as an acquaintance. Those are fun, and I have a sheer ton of them. As long as everyone keeps the mask on and the ugly hidden, human beings can accomplish a lot together.
But then there’s a second layer, the one that kicks in as I get to know people. It’s the layer that answers questions like this:
Or at least, it would, if it got out from underneath the top layer of polite niceness. I have had to deal with a few gallons of batshit in my time, and I admit I get tired very quickly of hauling that particular pail of slop when it’s not mine. I have one of my own, and I’m already busy trying to keep it as close to empty as possible.
Most of my relationships fall on one of those moral grid thingies, with the chaotic evil (as illustrated above), the neutral good, et cetera. The second layer is for mapping these things. It’s where I determine how much I’ll communicate and entrust based on the compass in the person across the table from me. It’s the level where I don’t mind giving advice and support, but I probably won’t be asking for it in return. It’s not that I don’t need it. It’s because so many people think that makes them shareholders in others’ lives and choices, and actually, it doesn’t.
That’s a dangerous minefield. Too often, the other person’s problem is who I am. They’ve invested time into my life and want to see the return they expect, whether it works for me or not. But if I weren’t okay with who I am, I would change it because I choose to, not merely because someone wants me to. This irritates my husband, but it’s how I operate.
There’s a third and not very accessible layer, wherein I decide that I really like a person. I’ll trust them with truly personal conversation, and maybe even keep in touch on a semi-regular basis. Those are the people I’ll hug, tell secrets to, and ask them to spend more time hanging out. They’re the rare people I’ll actually lean on. Because I don’t mind whatever input on my life they feel like. Because they don’t insist on giving it or stakeholding in my decisions.
And beneath that, there’s a fourth layer. It kicks in when the third layer somehow isn’t functioning right anymore. It is the layer of Sad Cringe-y Doom.
It’s the layer that quietly assesses a gradual loss of closeness, looking for what I did to make the environment unappealing. It’s the space that replays subtle breaks in the natural rhythms that arise between people, examining them for friction I’ve created.
It’s where I consider the moral compasses and paradigms on a deeper level. What’s happened along the way when they just don’t quite jive. How I’d have to change who I am in order to be the desired fit, or — height of criminality — how I might have tried to remake the other person into my desired fit.
Oh, how the hidden ugly comes for us all.
It’s the space where I have to decide how to defend myself from someone I’ve let in deeply, because I’m no longer shielded from their views. I’ve given up the distance and the attendant comfort zone in favour of a deeper comfort for us both.
It’s the space where I try to figure out how to deal with loss.
And sometimes I have to face the most painful realization of all: That it’s not me.
Which means I can’t fix it.
Because we’ve all got a bucket, but the only bucket I can haul is my own.
Oh, Cat, thanks for clarifying my own second-layer friendships – you are spot on with that. Do you think that’s an introvert trait? Sure, tell me all about yourself, but don’t expect to enter my hamster ball.
It’s got to be. I know so many of us who are like that. The thing that works is when people sit back and let me climb out of the hamster ball and come to them.
I suspect mostly people just like to laugh at me tumbling round and round and over and over in my hamster ball.
Great post! Struck home again.
But at least they can’t get you while you’re tumbling. That’s all that matters, right?
Quite! XD
I enjoyed this article, Cat. I wouldn’t say it describes me exactly (well, except for the bucket part and how the hidden ugly comes for us all), but it definitely echoes the multi-tiered grid on which I catalog people I know.
Your layer of Sad Cringe-y Doom is where I find myself back in time to age 9 or 10, when I had a quarter. I used that quarter to pay the girl next door to play with me. What a talking to my momma gave me about that! Since then, I am very sensitive to whether or not I am trying to buy someone’s friendship by offering them stuff, being too available, or being willing to change who I am to keep their friendship.
Unfortunately, this has led to quite a paucity of friendships in my life. But you know what? Although I’m somewhat lonely, I’m actually ok with that. These relationship thingies…they are just so messy! And I hate the feeling I get when I realize I’ve been used.
On the other hand…what does Jesus think about my carefully constructed bastion of self-protection? I’m not sure. I’m trying to find out. As my children leave the nest and I find myself even lonelier, I realize that He may have things He wants to do in me and in others through my relationships with them, even when they are toxic or I am vulnerable. I don’t know. I just know that right now I wish I could stay curled up in my shell where it’s safe. Only the safety, I fear I shall find, is an illusion: because when the only one in there is you, then your bucket can and will overflow and overwhelm you.
Ok. Heartbarf moment over. Sorry about the mess on your blog. Uhm…here, have some virtual cleanser.
I think bastions of self-protection are needful to a certain extent. It’s the other side of the coin to that sensitivity about buying/earning friendship versus falling into it organically and being real to others. With the right balance, good things do come of imperfect, messy relationships. But I think that has to come from faith in God rather than faith in people. I mean, others have to have permission to disappoint me, so we can dump out the bucket between us and carry on.
Here’s the thing, though. If others are allowed to disappoint, so are you and I. Stumbling along together is an equal-opportunity enterprise.
I vote “heartbarf” for word of the week.
Heartbarf for word of the week, haha! I have used that word for years…and I have journals dripping with it which I’ve sworn my children to burn without reading if I die suddenly.
I have similar journals…I hadn’t decided what to do with them yet. Maybe throw them into the depths of the sea ten years from now, or have them buried with me. Something like that.
In truth- It is indeed not you, and you can’t fix it, and we do all have a bucket but to my thinking my bucket is primarily my responsibility…. but..should I in my relationship with another be offered an extra hand on the handle to assist in the hauling then my response to that offer will tend to define what layer we are operating in IF I let it. I have long been of the opinion that physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually we are a ship…..and as someone once said, A ship in a harbor is safe, but thats not what ships are made for…….so for whatever that is worth, it sounded really good when I thought it……with love LRH
I love the ship analogy.
As to buckets: An extra hand is something to be grateful for, but to me, it depends where they want to dump it.
Wow, this is…like…scarily how I am. Especially with the whole giving advice/being a shareholder thing. The thing that puts me off the fastest and makes me backpedal is when a friend starts thinking they have some sort of right to tell me how to live my life, or what I should change. If they can’t accept me the way I am, why are we friends? I guess the thing is to learn to communicate this to people, since they don’t always know they’re doing it. Ah, well. Thanks for the post
Yes! That. Unfortunately, that’s usually my deal-breaker right there. I’m no good at politely pretending.
That’s a good point. I’m finally getting to an age (mental maturity? Nah, probably not) where it doesn’t matter so much to me if stating boundaries turns someone off. It just means they’re not my “target audience” and I’m not theirs.
Do you know that a pastor once preached a sermon that I remembered long after walking out of the sanctuary? He said, “God will always put someone in our life who acts as our spiritual dipstick and reflects the ugliness of our heart.” I immediately thought, “Oh, no. I adopted my dipstick.”
I am learning that I can stay in a relationship with someone and not offer advice, even when their lifestyle and choices are dangerous. I am finding that I can watch their gallon of crazy spill out and not feel the need to help them clean it up or make judgement about whether or not they should be cleaning it. I am way outside my introverted, autarchist just-do-what-is-right comfort zone. I am stepping out further and planning a birthday party for my grandson and his father/father’s family who all seem to have major batshit spillage, relationship issues and manipulation problems.
God seems to be stretching me. I have wondered if it weren’t an answer to prayer. I have talked before of the difficulty of making and keeping friends as adults. We seem to have lost some inborn skill that was part of our childhood. But, when I was a child, my friends were people to have fun with. We didn’t give advice. We just hung out and did those things that we liked to do together. I am trying to relearn that skill. I have had to learn the difference between boundaries and walls.
Oh, no. My brain is bursting into song! ♪ ♫ And, the walls come tumbling down! ♪ ♫
There goes a gallon of crazy all over the floor!
“spiritual dipstick” LOL maximal aptness there.
Yes, we have had a few who’ve fit that description along the way.
I hope the birthday party goes well. That’s been a rollercoaster…
Y’know what, I think you’re right about that. The best friends I have now are in it for the fun and don’t offer advice without being asked. I never really thought about it before, but that’s what makes it possible for me to talk to people freely. Nobody has to “fix” each other, and nobody’s telling anyone’s dirt because that’s not the focus, living well is.
Never mind the crazy, what I want to know is what’s the shortcode for making the cool musical notes?