From the article "On the Therapeutic Action of Analytic Love" by Daniel Shaw (2003):

When I first met him, he spoke in a gruff voice, volubly, bitterly, loudly, and without pause for me, even if I did attempt to get a word in edgewise, which I often didn't. He was marvelously articulate about how enraged he felt about everyone and everything in his life. I noticed how often I felt anxious about what I was thinking of saying to him, and realized I feared he would explode with rage and possibly assault me if I said something he didn't like.

Ari spent most of a year splenetically venting, about his wife, his son, his partners, his employees, and so forth. Feeling shut out, I often found myself shuttling between resentment, detachment, and feeling intimidated. Eventually, I understood that I was withdrawing, withholding a necessary confrontation, in retaliation for the narcissistic injury I felt about my perceived lack of effect on him.

(I underlined the last sentence for emphasis)

I think that this is a good description of why I feel like it's important to be honest with people about how I feel about them. I mean, not like "I think you're ugly" or anything like that, but if I honestly think there's something they're doing that is maladaptive or destructive in some way, I feel like it's better to tell them, if I can do it in a sensitive way. Do I always achieve this with 100% success? No, definitely not. DEFINITELY not. You win some, you lose some. Sometimes you lose a lot, haha. And I'm not gonna lie, I'm kind of easily intimidated. But I'm trying. I want to give people a chance to notice what's going on before writing them off.

During a talk with Fro and Becka I think I might have mentioned this. I feel like it's a kind of respect-- that willingness to give people a chance to show that they're capable of something better. I feel like assuming everyone is good is sort of disrespectful in its own way, because well... you have your own ideas of good, and that's not necessarily the idea that everyone subscribes to. Assuming everyone is bad and being a cynic is kind of worse (because you're more likely to withdraw and close yourself off to others), but both of them are hindering in their own ways, because you filter information about other people through them. I'm inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt, certainly, but I guess ideally I prefer to just see how a person reacts to different things before making any lasting judgements of their character.

[I KNOW IT'S 'JUDGMENTS' IN AMERICAN ENGLISH, CHROME SPELLCHECK, I JUST LIKE IT BETTER WITH AN E]

It's hard to confront people about things, but... I do feel like it's important. Lately I've been frustrated because I feel like people aren't listening to me, and when they interrupt me, don't let me finish what I'm saying, and/or talk over me, I end up just going silent. "If they don't want to listen to me, then I won't try to tell them," goes the line of thinking. But it's a withholding out of resentment, and that's ultimately selfish. A conversation is not just about me and how I'm feeling, it's about both of us. I don't want to enable poor listening behavior in someone because I'm irritated or resentful. That's... well, it's childish, isn't it? I'm not saying that what they're doing isn't incredibly rude (bad listeners are by far one of my biggest pet peeves), but... what am I accomplishing by just letting it pass by unmentioned? That silence could come across as tacit approval, and is that really fair to any of the other people who might be interrupted by this person in the future?

I think often of a story that a friend told me a few years ago about his dad. While I don't remember all the details, the basic story was that the dad works as a speech therapist for school kids, and it's a very tough job. The dad said something to the effect of "I hate my job" (I got the impression that it was because of the difficulty of it, not because the work itself is distasteful or tedious etc.), and my friend asked why he did it, then. The response he got was "if not me, then who?"

I've probably related this story here before at some point-- maybe even around when it was told to me, I don't recall-- but it just sticks with me. I guess I've really incorporated it into my value system at this point. It's relevant to a lot of things, you know? For instance, combating the bystander effect. Instead of going "oh, someone else will do it," you just do it. A silly little example is when a bunch of people are waiting around in front of a classroom. Sometimes I've done this with them without trying the door, only to find that the door was actually unlocked the whole time. Mostly now I just check the door first. In the majority of situations where something like this happens, what do I really have to lose by being the one to take action? Maybe I might suffer a bit of embarrassment, but that's no real harm.

In cases where I'm being interrupted, I think I can handle it if it becomes a bit awkward as a result of me bringing it up... Although it's easy to say that when I'm in the comfort and safety of my room by myself, haha. I know there's more anxiety in the moment. I might need to brainstorm some ways to politely point out the interruption... Maybe let them finish talking and then say "I'd like to finish what I was saying, now" to indicate that I wasn't done. I've been quite frustrated recently and have started to interrupt people back and talk over them (not that it works, because my voice is too quiet to talk over people unless I start yelling), but I don't like doing that and it feels icky to engage in the behavior I find so distasteful. And can I really make a point if I'm not modeling the behavior that I think is respectful, and which I would like others to follow?

I don't know why I've been in such a blogging mood these past couple days, but man, I guess I've been thinking a lot now that I'm not constantly stressed over school. I feel a little more like myself, before everything happened in the past couple years. Or well, maybe two and half, now. Back when I was more optimistic and interested in things, motivated to seek out ways to be better. Maybe I'm finally starting to recover from being hollowed out. Because... that's what it really was, I think. Burnout, yes, but... like those trees you see that burned from the inside out, so there's just a hollow trunk remaining, all blackened when you look into it. Back before my world collapsed into one point and I couldn't see anything else anymore. I hope I'm getting better.

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