Kind Kinda Honest

There are times when setting a boundary goes wrong in execution. Today was such a time.

So my sister has been desultorily hanging up her winter clothes in lots on my balcony to get them some sun so she can pack them up. Over the past few weeks she’d barge in when I was just about waking up, to put the clothes out as mine is the only balcony that gets sunlight the way it does. The thing though is this, anytime my sister wants to do something, she wants to do it on her own time and immediately. This annoys me because I don’t want to jump through a hoop just because she decides that it’s time to for a task she’s doing.

“You’re always sleeping late when I need to put clothes in the sun and yours is the only balcony that gets sunlight for hours,” she’d complained after dumping a load of her woollen clothes on my bed a few weeks ago.

“Yes, but I do sleep late and maybe you could let me know a bit in advance when you want to do this,” I’d countered. “Right now I need to finish my meditation.”

“How long will that take?” she’d said resigned but petulant.

“Twenty minutes,” I’d said, feeling overall, rushed.

Today was the same scene, except when she dumped her clothes on the bed I complained, “Oh no! What’s this?”

“What do I do? You have got the only balcony that gets sunlight and you’re always sleeping late,” she held up her hands and let them fall.

“Yeah well, it’s my balcony and that’s how I sleep,” I said, irked yet again.

“I don’t have one so I don’t really have a choice,” she countered, “I don’t like arguing with you time and again but I have to do this so…”

“Okay but it’s not my problem,” I was annoyed now.

She was taken aback, “But then what do I do? And c’mon didi, it’s only a matter of a few days.”

“Well, I get up at 10:30 on most days is that okay?” I was still mad but now on the back-foot because I’d said some things that were not good.

“Yeah, I guess,” she took her clothes and walked out to the balcony.

“You know your emergency is not my urgency,” I said and then kicked myself mentally because a) I got the damn saying backwards and b) I was determined to dig the wrong kind of hole to fall into. Yes, there are good kind of holes to dig and fall into, like for instance, when you want to…fall into a hole.

“That’s what you say to strangers,” she said stiffly as she re-entered the room and then left.

You know that feeling when you started off right but ended up wrong? That’s what I felt when she left.

“Not my problem” “Your emergency is not my urgency”. Sigh. You don’t say that to your baby sister.

Boundaries are great and yes, people can be upset when you enforce them, but I think here I didn’t set a boundary as much as I put up a stone wall by dropping the first and the heaviest stone on my sister’s foot. I’ve been feeling guilty, an emotion I’m hardwired to feel too much anyway which is why I tend to check it often. But honestly though it doesn’t sit right with me, the words I said. I think about if she’d said them to me, and how they would’ve hurt without a doubt.

Setting a boundary must be done with words intended not to hurt anymore than they need to, to be clear. I read something interesting the other day, someone said, “Fuck brutal honesty, where is empathetic honesty? Where is kind honesty? Because I’ve seen those who call themselves brutally honest usually relish the brutality more than the honesty.” I know this to be true because I am the last person to be dishonest to those close to me, but the choice of words and the way you say it is everything. You can say the exact same thing, get the exact same hard-to-hear truth across in an empathetic manner too. I think setting a boundary should use firm, kind words not meant to hurt intentionally and definitely not said in anger.

Narcissa’s Teen Drama

I woke up to a friend leaving our Whatsapp group chat and unfollowing me and two of our other friends on Instagram. Narcissa is the kind of person to look at someone else’s picture and imagine herself, hence the name. Plus I really will forever love Harry Potter.

Context: we’re all work friends and used to be super tight. I’m talking SATC tight. But then Narcissa went ahead and lied about having a little somethin’ somethin’ with our boss. Boo Bear, Vhefie and I did not like that on many levels: first, the lying and deception from a close friend when we knew what was going on, second, the utter preferential treatment and unprofessionalism with which our boss began to operate that disrupted work for us. Despite trying to ask her for the truth, all I got was lies. Unfortunately that’s a no-go, like I’ll help you hide the body at four am, but don’t spin yarns when talking to me.

Anyway, after many ups and downs, drunken conversations, fake makeups, real breakups, and a wine-fuelled, soul-baring, tear-jerking sleepover, we came to a point of a new equilibrium where we were friends but not too close. Before we reached this point, Boo Bear, Vhefie and I would often go out together, sometimes with another friend who stopped talking to Narcissa for the same mess. At first, we hid it to spare her feelings but then realised we couldn’t do that forever, so we ended up putting stories and pictures. She would, being her, read that as a direct attack. But we were just trying to live our lives and protect ourselves at the same time. At least I definitely was.

During the pandemic, we weren’t exactly in touch, before it though all four of us had met and I kid you not, the entire three hours were monopolised by Narcissa talking. I couldn’t get to know anything about what was going on with Boo Bear or Vhefie! But it’s okay, we’d known each other long enough that I could sacrifice an outing for her. The pandemic apparently was tough on her, mental health wise. Problem is, it wasn’t a stroll down a blooming meadow for the rest of us either. But the way Narcissa views the world is, it revolving only around her and her issues. We are patient with it most days but some days I am like ‘Dear God, woman!’. This is the longest context setting ever!

But yes, last to last weekend I went to my work city to empty out the rented apartment. I stayed with Boo Bear and on the last day, Vhefie came over to meet us. Now Vhefie had categorically asked me if I want to invite Narcissa too. I did not. First, we were not in touch, a few messages on the group chat but that’s it. Second, I’d told her I’m in work city and she did not ask to meet so I assumed she’s cool about not meeting or isn’t in the mood. Third, I didn’t want her there to monopolise the precious few hours I had with Boo Bear and Vhefie, I wanted to hear what they’d been upto. So this was what happened.

Now yesterday I’d uploaded some pictures from that day on Instagram and boom! Today Narcissa decides it’s the ultimate diss and does the most dramatic thing. We are adults, we use our words, teen drama is not our thing. If she was upset, she needed to speak to me, express her anger. I’d tell her all the things except point three. There is honesty and then there is cruelty. My problem is, she didn’t want to meet, she hasn’t bothered to stay in touch and I adjusted my view of our relationship in that light. Then this action of hers suggests we were not on the same page. How? What was it about not knowing anything about each other’s lives, or making the least bit of effort to check in with each other that screamed close friends forever?

I haven’t felt the need to message either. Just not possible for me to deal with this kind of thing at the moment. It’s too childish. If she decides to express a problem like a grown up, we shall talk and figure. Otherwise, it’s okay too.

Communication Style.

I suppose it was a matter of time before the virus came to my doorstep. At first it was my adjacent building, my neighbour died. Now, however, it’s in my building. Ground floor neighbour has it. And it’s a two storey building.

This development led to several, exhausting discussions on protocol. With some yelling and some “Stop being so paranoid!”s and “I’m not listening to you”s. This was my mom, my sister and I, Dad was blissfully in his room.

I was trying to run through the sequence of things to do when someone came from outside back home because the sequence was important to establish. However mom and sister kept going on conversational detours in between, not once, not twice, but every time I tried to get the sequence established. With the result that I was frustrated, because after half an hour of talking we’d only gotten till step 3.

“Can you please explain things to mom after we’re done establishing the sequence?” I snapped at my sister.

“Be patient,” my sister gave me a stern look. Mom looked mutinous to say the least.

“Right now, my focus is on getting this done because we may have to step out. Can we be efficient?” I had no time for niceties.

“Human beings do get distracted,” my sister was testing my patience all right like the human being she was. “You know in my company we’re taught that under stress, people can take on four personalities to communicate,” she mused suddenly. “Like Drivers tend to take control, and Expressives tend to lash out…But yes, let’s discuss this now…”

While we got to where we were going in the discussion at last, I found what she said interesting. So I looked it up online and realised yes, there are four types of personalities when it comes to communication. And of course, no hard and fast demarcation because people tend to embody a little bit of each style, but there is a dominant one that you go to first especially in times of stress. From a blog and lots of literature I found online, here they are:

• Driver: the person who takes charge and wants solutions;
• Analytical: the person who emphasises accuracy and details;
• Expressive: the person who thrives on fun and excitement and loves to be around other people; (most likely to be the ideas people, probably the loudest in the office and also someone who does not react well to conflict.)
• Amiable: the person who is warm and friendly and wants everyone to get along and be happy.

I realised that I am a combination of Driver and Analytical and Expressive. But come a stressful situation, definitely Driver and Analytical. I want a solution and I want it planned out to the last detail. Analytical people do tend to get frustrated with vague answers apparently, and that’s me all right.

My usual communication style though (as in, not under stress) leans towards Expressive and Amiable. Literally living up to the self-made motto of “loud and proud”.

Mom I think is definitely more on the Expressive side when dealing with a stressful situation. My sister believes she’s a combination of Driver and Expressive under stress.

Why don’t you, dear reader, think about what communication style you tend to fall back on under stress and otherwise?

Also, while you figure that out, please forgive any typos or errors. I didn’t get time to edit this one.

Don’t lie, friend.

This poem was written at a time, for someone. I think it’s pretty self-explanatory, didn’t go too esoteric with this one.

 

 

Can you not lie to me, my friend?

It’s been a long day on the road again,

Dirt lines up stories on my face,

I’m looking for neon lights of salvation.

Put down a dusty glass

And pour gold brown redemption.

See, my shoulders ache,

From dealing with the world’s fake.

On days like today, when the masks get to me,

I want to smash a hand through someone’s chest,

Fingers through the ribs to grab a beating heart,

Feel the raw honesty of something that cannot lie.

No metaphors, similes, clever little wordplays,

Nothing but the exact nuance of the exact word

Honest as white breath expelled on a December morning,

No tattoos in an exotic language, nothing but the truth.

Who am I to judge?

And I say that often enough,

So be kind, my friend,

Don’t you add to the lies, my friend.

I swirl liquid forgetfulness

Around this glass,

As enacted deceit swirls within my head,

Turning every memory neon green.

Secrets derive power from silence,

And you’re very quiet tonight, my friend,

Smiling at me as I smile right back,

One moment of honesty is all I ask.

I told you I’d hide the body,

Wouldn’t ask a single question,

Just promise me one damn thing:

You won’t lie to me, my friend.

So do not lie. Friend.