So recently I've had the opportunity to learn a little about myself through the eyes of other people. It's been good.
The first thing I learned was from my boss. Yesterday I made a couple of mistakes at work and he said, "You know what? You're not thinking ... You're reacting." It really struck me. I'm in the military and - despite popular belief - the military expects you to think for yourself (some branches more than others); but at the same time there's always someone telling you to do something or other, so it's rather easy to fall into a mental cruise control. I only wish this was just a problem at work; but I actually go into cruise control often ... especially when I'm driving. I'll start philosophizing or wax nostalgic, take a wrong turn, have to turn around, come home five minutes late. It's ridiculous. Who gets lost driving home?!
Part of the problem is that I have a bit of a creative streak. You mix that with my somewhat laid-back personality and suddenly I start playing things from the hip and taking a different street just because I haven't seen it before. It's creative driving ... but it doesn't usually get me home any faster.
But, once again, I wish this were only a driving problem or a work problem. When I'm at home I'll set my keys down without a single thought: something along the lines of "Do these go here?" or "Remember you put your keys here." So I start looking for my keys an hour later and I have no idea where they are. Mental cruise control. I'll also ask Chrissa where we keep the extension cords or something when, if I took two seconds to think about it ... or two more seconds to look for it, I'd find them and not come off looking like an idiot.
The problem is not so much that I don't think. In fact, I'm constantly thinking. The problem is that I don't concentrate on the task at hand and so appear air-headed. The reason I appreciated my boss's criticism is because it gives me incentive to change -- to take possession of my thoughts and truly own them. It's like Thoreau said:
No doubt another may also think for me; but it is not therefore desirable that he should do so to the exclusion of my thinking for myself.
The second thing someone taught me about myself came from a conversation I was having with my wife a little while ago. She was upset about something and I was giving her advice. I did it very craftily, though: telling her one thing but then throwing in a counterpoint (which was my real opinion), then returning to the first opinion. She got quiet and I could tell she was upset, so I asked her, "I don't think I'm coming across the way I was trying to." She then said something along the lines of, "No, I think you said exactly what you wanted to."
I felt like the scum of the earth. I wasn't being honest and upfront. It bothers me that we (I) feel like we have to dance around and not be completely honest with each other. What I feel is "tact" on my part is actually just veiled dishonesty or cowardice. That's something else I have to really work on: say what I mean ... especially to those people I care most about. Thanks, Chrissa.
Third thing I learned recently came from an ongoing conversation I've been having with Shasta which dropped off a few months ago but just picked up again. I was trying to offer some relationship analysis and advice to her and I started it up by remarking that I'm not that good at giving relationship advice ... and then going on to give relationship advice. Afterwards it kind of bothered me, and I've been mulling the thought around in my mind.
I think ... in all honesty ... that any good advice I've ever given to anyone doesn't come from my head. I over-analyze everything - even people - and that really bothers me. I don't think you should be able to pick apart a relationship. Leave that to marriage counselors who actually know what they're doing. I think their professionalism and training gives them a bit more objectivity than I have; so I end up taking on a fake objectivity and then give terribly subjective advice as if I were an expert. Which sucks.
But there's more. I think that true relationships are beyond moralization (which isn't a word, apparently). When I give relationship advice - especially with failed relationships - I look for the lesson or a hidden maxim ... because that's what I think they want: they're trying to understand why it is they feel so emotionally wrecked after a relationship so I think that, by pointing out the silver lining in their cloud, I'm helping them. Maybe that is what they want, but then in summing up a relationship of months or years with a few measly sentences and a pat on the back doesn't really do justice to either person involved. You risk making them as two-dimensional as the moral ... all wrapped up with a little bow on it. It's like the moral tagline at the end of Leave it to Beaver.
We eventually get over failed relationships -- just like we eventually get over any sorrow. Our mind tends to heal naturally as long as we let it grieve. It's only when we repress our emotions that we cause problems because we bury it and it festers ... Exhibit A: my mission. In fact, some of the relationships I cherish the most are the ones I never quite understood ... the ones that were so enigmatic that they escaped my ability to trivialize them. I like them because they keep me guessing, keep me wondering.
I'm not saying we shouldn't give advice to our best friends about relationships. Like I said, occasionally I give a word or two of good advice. I've even had people comment on it while I'm talking to them. But every time the good advice is the stuff that comes from my emotions ... the raw, swirling debris closest to my heart. And it only comes out when I realize that I have no idea what to say and so I just talk.
So thanks, everyone, for helping me learn something about myself. I hope I can actually accomplish the things I talk about. And, really, if all of this seemed too Daddy Warbucks-ish, like I know everything, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to teach. I was merely trying to confess.
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