Emotional Recon: 6 Nuclear Reactions
Emotional trauma can, according to psychologists, fuse a specific situation to a specific emotional reaction. I must assume that because humans are humans (and scattered unpredictably across a vast field of possible forms) it works differently among different people. But have you ever seen someone get suddenly and irrationally angry at something that seems innocent?
Somebody once told me that anger is a secondary emotion, but I think anger can be directly connected either by habit or trauma to specific stimuli. In my own head, the sound of a hair dryer might do it. I hate those things, and I live in a house with three other women who NEED their hair DRY. RIGHT NOW. I can connect my anger to an adolescent circumstance, take a deep breath, and cope with my disproportionate emotional response.
I would also guess that fused emotions happen more frequently (and are cured more frequently) in childhood and adolescence as neural pathways are more easily established and changed. But that's just a guess.
So part of yesterday's post was part of a fused emotion. Let me explain:
I say stupid things. I rarely get in trouble for anything else, but the trouble I get into for saying something careless/stupid/wrong accounts for a significant majority of self-inflicted misery in my life. But I'm not the kind of person who can just stop talking, and the logic behind an attitude like "don't say anything, and you won't say anything wrong" is flawed. I've tested it. I admire those who can control their rhetoric perfectly, but I have yet to meet anyone like that. We all fart, verbally.
My verbal flatulence is never malicious. I, above all, wish no one harm. Ever. I consider no person an enemy, an inferior, or an inconvenience. But the words come out wrong, because as Flaubert says, "Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will wring tears from the stars." And sometimes the words come out wrong, because the thoughts behind them are flawed, too. But not malicious.
So this is my fusion: When I figure out that somebody is consciously hurt by something I said, I immediately escalate to red alert. My finger is not on any kind of phaser trigger, but on a panic button. At that point, if I sense any anger or judgment, I run to my Batcave and wait for the nuclear holocaust.
My Batcave, in this instance, is lined with six inches of self-hate (ain't NOTHIN' gettin' through that!), and stocked with a 30-year supply of guilt. It's really safe, but probably more miserable than the actual fallout. (Think "thirty years of spam").
From inside my Batcave, I watch you. And sometimes I judge. You have lots of choices of reactions to my mistakes, and different circumstances call for different reactions, sometimes.
1) You can retaliate. This has happened more than once, and I will survive the devastation. Unfortunately, while I know that I did not hurt you out of malice, retaliation is sometimes malicious and the evidence is in the form of the retaliation. Sometimes, it's your own anger-fusion. I understand. And I hope you understand when I flinch.
2) You can seek restitution. This NEVER happens, although it seems the most logical of all reactions. One could, hypothetically, simply and calmly ask for some proportional payment, either informally (in person) or through legal or mediated recourse if I do not respond. (Jumping straight to litigation is a form of malicious retaliation). I am speculating, but I think that the logicalness of this option is precisely why it is never used. When we are hurt, we do not act logically. We are pushed into an emotional dimension where things function differently.
3) You can express hurt and wait for me to apologize. An apology (100% sincere) is part of my standard red-alert procedure. If you press me for an apology and don't get one, it's because I sincerely do not think I said anything wrong (or badly) and I don't think it's my fault that you are hurt (if I think you are actually hurt at all). You'll only get carefully crafted rhetoric. I apologize when I feel actual remorse. I do not apologize for my existence, or your mistakes. (It's a flawed strategy, but I'm no politician).
4) You can hide your hurt. If I find out you have done this, depending on the value or strength of our friendship, I might leave. If you can't be honest with me then this isn't a real friendship of equals, and Batman is nobody's sidekick. If I never find out and you don't explode from built-up emotional pressure, then you're a) better than I am at playing poker, and b) responsible for perpetuating my ignorance.
5) You can not notice or forget that I ever said it or hurt you. I'm guessing this happens a LOT. Bless you.
6) You can forgive me before I ask. So far, only God does this. Sometimes He points out that I have acted/thought/spoken wrongly, and sometimes He waits for me to stumble across the law that I have ignorantly broken, but so far, He has never withheld forgiveness when I ask. He may choose to allow or not allow consequences too. So many perks to being omnipotent!
In the end, whether you have sought or received restitution, retaliation, or an apology, you have one ultimate decision: you may or may not forgive me. I prefer to be forgiven. I prefer to hear it from you, even if it's temporarily a lie. But if you can't or won't either forgive or express forgiveness, then I forgive you. Right now, I am forgiving you. I love you enough as a brother or sister to pray you always find the closure and peace you might for a little time deny me.
In the end, someone else pays all our debts.
Somebody once told me that anger is a secondary emotion, but I think anger can be directly connected either by habit or trauma to specific stimuli. In my own head, the sound of a hair dryer might do it. I hate those things, and I live in a house with three other women who NEED their hair DRY. RIGHT NOW. I can connect my anger to an adolescent circumstance, take a deep breath, and cope with my disproportionate emotional response.
I would also guess that fused emotions happen more frequently (and are cured more frequently) in childhood and adolescence as neural pathways are more easily established and changed. But that's just a guess.
So part of yesterday's post was part of a fused emotion. Let me explain:
I say stupid things. I rarely get in trouble for anything else, but the trouble I get into for saying something careless/stupid/wrong accounts for a significant majority of self-inflicted misery in my life. But I'm not the kind of person who can just stop talking, and the logic behind an attitude like "don't say anything, and you won't say anything wrong" is flawed. I've tested it. I admire those who can control their rhetoric perfectly, but I have yet to meet anyone like that. We all fart, verbally.
My verbal flatulence is never malicious. I, above all, wish no one harm. Ever. I consider no person an enemy, an inferior, or an inconvenience. But the words come out wrong, because as Flaubert says, "Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will wring tears from the stars." And sometimes the words come out wrong, because the thoughts behind them are flawed, too. But not malicious.
So this is my fusion: When I figure out that somebody is consciously hurt by something I said, I immediately escalate to red alert. My finger is not on any kind of phaser trigger, but on a panic button. At that point, if I sense any anger or judgment, I run to my Batcave and wait for the nuclear holocaust.
My Batcave, in this instance, is lined with six inches of self-hate (ain't NOTHIN' gettin' through that!), and stocked with a 30-year supply of guilt. It's really safe, but probably more miserable than the actual fallout. (Think "thirty years of spam").
From inside my Batcave, I watch you. And sometimes I judge. You have lots of choices of reactions to my mistakes, and different circumstances call for different reactions, sometimes.
1) You can retaliate. This has happened more than once, and I will survive the devastation. Unfortunately, while I know that I did not hurt you out of malice, retaliation is sometimes malicious and the evidence is in the form of the retaliation. Sometimes, it's your own anger-fusion. I understand. And I hope you understand when I flinch.
2) You can seek restitution. This NEVER happens, although it seems the most logical of all reactions. One could, hypothetically, simply and calmly ask for some proportional payment, either informally (in person) or through legal or mediated recourse if I do not respond. (Jumping straight to litigation is a form of malicious retaliation). I am speculating, but I think that the logicalness of this option is precisely why it is never used. When we are hurt, we do not act logically. We are pushed into an emotional dimension where things function differently.
3) You can express hurt and wait for me to apologize. An apology (100% sincere) is part of my standard red-alert procedure. If you press me for an apology and don't get one, it's because I sincerely do not think I said anything wrong (or badly) and I don't think it's my fault that you are hurt (if I think you are actually hurt at all). You'll only get carefully crafted rhetoric. I apologize when I feel actual remorse. I do not apologize for my existence, or your mistakes. (It's a flawed strategy, but I'm no politician).
4) You can hide your hurt. If I find out you have done this, depending on the value or strength of our friendship, I might leave. If you can't be honest with me then this isn't a real friendship of equals, and Batman is nobody's sidekick. If I never find out and you don't explode from built-up emotional pressure, then you're a) better than I am at playing poker, and b) responsible for perpetuating my ignorance.
5) You can not notice or forget that I ever said it or hurt you. I'm guessing this happens a LOT. Bless you.
6) You can forgive me before I ask. So far, only God does this. Sometimes He points out that I have acted/thought/spoken wrongly, and sometimes He waits for me to stumble across the law that I have ignorantly broken, but so far, He has never withheld forgiveness when I ask. He may choose to allow or not allow consequences too. So many perks to being omnipotent!
In the end, whether you have sought or received restitution, retaliation, or an apology, you have one ultimate decision: you may or may not forgive me. I prefer to be forgiven. I prefer to hear it from you, even if it's temporarily a lie. But if you can't or won't either forgive or express forgiveness, then I forgive you. Right now, I am forgiving you. I love you enough as a brother or sister to pray you always find the closure and peace you might for a little time deny me.
In the end, someone else pays all our debts.
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