There’s a line I keep hearing in my head: “You can judge people all you want to once you can read their minds.”
Well, I sure move like I can.
I can watch somebody get quiet and, in about three seconds, decide they’re upset with me, figure out what I supposedly did, and start rehearsing what I’ll say to make it better. Meanwhile, the only thing that actually happened is somebody got quiet.
And that’s just the first layer. Once I’ve decided what somebody’s thinking, I start expecting them to act accordingly. I think I know what they want, so I give them what I think they want. Then, when they respond differently than I pictured, I’m all discombobulated.
I mean, of course they missed their cue. They had no idea I’d written them a part.
It’s funny when I put it that way, and it can hurt like hell when I’m in it. I can spend half a day feeling rejected over something nobody said. And if I get defensive or pull away, the other person is left trying to figure out what happened.
I know how it feels when somebody decides what I meant before they’ve even asked me. I want to give people the same chance to explain themselves that I’d want them to give me.
The mind is tricky, tricky, tricky business. Sometimes I have to tell my God-given brain, with love, to settle down a minute.
What did they actually say? What did I see? Where did I start filling in the blanks?
Once I sort that out, there’s usually a much simpler thing I can do. I can say, “Hey, you got quiet a minute ago. How are you doing?” And then I can listen long enough to hear the answer, even if it’s different from the one I already had in my head.
That’s where my heart and my intuition come in. When I get quiet enough to listen, sometimes what comes up is as simple as I care about this person or I’m scared I hurt their feelings.
I can work with that. I can be honest about my own feelings without making a whole speech about theirs.
And sometimes somebody gets quiet, and I can just sit there with them for a minute.
