On Friday morning, they were kind of bragging about not having filters on what they say. I smiled quietly to myself while I listened to them. Their language was clean, they were respectful of each other, and while they were speaking over the noise of the bus engine, they weren't speaking loudly in order to get attention. So, sorry, kids, but you've got filters. And I appreciate that. There were plenty of the kids towards the back of the bus that don't have filters, and I could hear that, too.
Then I started musing about my own filters. Where some people truly say whatever pops into their heads, I've got my filters set to "high." On a scale of one to ten, mine are set at eleven. I hardly ever speak before I think. Even in casual conversation, my brain is constantly calculating word usage, how appropriate any given statement is in that context, and whether or not I might offend where I don't mean to offend--now that I'm not a child with young and irritating siblings. I edit words on paper, but I also edit everything I do and say. My in-laws call me "diplomatic," which is a kind way of saying that I hardly ever blurt out what I truly think.
It's just become worse over the years, and I was a surprisingly diplomatic young person, as well.
I'm not saying being diplomatic is bad, of course. Diplomacy is fast becoming a lost art in our increasingly angry, more divisive social culture. But am I quiet about my true feelings because I don't want to give offense or because I hate confrontation so very much? Both, I'm sure. I've got what most people would think are very weird opinions, and I don't care to hear others critique those opinions if they haven't also put in a lot of time researching, learning, and educating themselves about the subject. Also, I haven't made concrete decisions about many subjects. I don't think out loud that much (at least, not to others. I do talk to myself quite a bit to sort out my thoughts), and it takes a long time to quietly ponder my opinions about many things. I hate making snap judgements, and I am also intensely aware that I usually don't have all the facts. My opinions are often fluid, changing as I encounter new information. As good as I am at making conversation, I am not very good at admitting my deeper feelings and opinions until I feel very, very comfortable with that person, and even then, I have quite a big area in my head that is inaccessible to anyone.
I think the term for that is "guarded."
As guarded as I am, I am always willing to give someone else the benefit of the doubt. If I haven't had experience that the person I'm engaging with has less-than-noble intentions, I prefer to like them as long as possible. Everyone is flawed, and everyone makes both good and bad choices, and I'm willing to meet a person where they're at, not where I wish they would be. It takes quite a bit for me to truly dislike someone, sometimes even if my radar is telling me something is wrong. I even gave my sister's old boyfriend--a narcissistic, horrible, abusive man--quite a bit of leeway for at least a couple days (which is more than he deserved). I'll make up stories to explain stupid behavior in others (in the absence of facts) so that I don't have to walk around feeling angry that people really are out to get me. I can't control other people, so I don't want to be always angry with them.
I think the term for that is "naively optimistic."
This is a trait that drives my friend and bus aide, Kris, bonkers. She's very good at reading people, and she doesn't have a lot of patience with or optimism about most people. She's lived a difficult life filled with a wide mix of men and women who have mostly hurt her. Not all, but most. I'm surprised she's still as optimistic and friendly as she is and that she still believes in love. She's incredibly strong. But she's been abused and neglected, which has made her hyper-aware of body language and intention. My life, on the other hand, has been easy, and I've never been in a situation where I felt like the people around me were truly trying to hurt me either physically or emotionally (parts of junior high and high school excepted, of course). If it came to a contest on who could immediately pick out the people who will be nice to you until you don't give them what they want, Kris wins every time. She's always right about that and I'm almost always wrong. I yield to her superior intuition.
I'm not sad that I am predisposed to like people or to be friendly, though. A kind answer really does turn away wrath in most cases. Being kind and giving people the benefit of the doubt has protected me from harm in many ways, I think, because people will usually try to live up to your positive expectations of them, though that isn't why I am kind. Every person has beauty, even that horrible ex-boyfriend of my sister's or that guy who was incredibly rude for no reason when I parked the bus at the tennis courts last year. I just want to start with the assumption that the beauty is there before I have to learn to walk away from a person because of their behavior. I won't, however, walk into a place or situation that feels dangerous. Kindness has its limits, and I don't have to be personally harmed to know that some people get pleasure out of hurting others.
But back to filters. Facebook is a minefield of problems for me, which is why I happily quit it for so long. The only reason I reactivated my account is because I'm the Relief Society president, and with so many women expressing themselves only through social media, I felt like I should be there so I could catch any issues or needs that might come up in my ward. But I can't bring myself to share my thoughts and opinions there. First of all, who cares? Secondly, I want to like people. My filters are too high to allow me to comfortably share my opinions with people who used to be my friends but are now mostly strangers, and whose opinions, therefore, I don't really value. But this isn't a post about Facebook. It's a wandering, musing post about the question I have about who I am without filters. Without my overly active sense of watching myself in every word and every behavior, what would I think? What would I say?
That's the true question I have. Who am I? This woman I am, this woman I've become has a wall a thousand miles thick around her. I'm not complaining or saying I've had a hard life, because my life has been absolutely wonderful. I'm just surprised, and I'm just figuring it out, something each and every one of us is doing. I'm a guarded, naively optimistic introvert who can act like an extrovert without often opening the gate to her heart, even if I love deeply and forever once I do love. I'm such a typical INFJ. (laughs) Not sure how I feel about that. The facts are still coming in, so a final judgment can't be made yet.
We'll see where it goes.
Sorry for this annoyingly self-pandering post. This is me thinking out loud.
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