Despite having worked hard, going more than one “extra mile” and achieving some good things, I have spent much of the past few days feeling absolutely, irretrievably inferior. Totally sub-standard. An awful disappointment.
It’s not a new experience, by any stretch of the imagination. It happens far more often than most people will ever know or realise. Even so, it is never pleasant feeling as though most of the world thinks you’re rubbish.
It’s not as though any of us is perfect. I certainly make no claim to be… which is a good thing because I am most definitely not.
And yet, when others discover a flaw or weakness, or find I have made a mistake, they very often speak or act as though they feel they have a right to be outraged and judge me for my imperfection.
So here’s a news flash.
I am not perfect.
Neither are you.
Everyone makes mistakes.
Everyone misses a beat every now and then.
But you know what is more hurtful than someone making a mistake?
Treating them as though they are less than you.
Because, you know, they’re not.
If someone does something that bothers you, or offends you, and you feel the need to talk to them about it, for goodness’ sake, be kind. And if you can’t be kind, then wait until you can.
And please, please, oh please, go to them and speak to them rather than anyone else. Going behind their back and kvetching about it is only ever going to cause more complications and trouble, so unless that is your actual intent, it is a response that should be avoided.
Similarly, there is nothing achieved by being judgemental. In fact, it is entirely counterproductive.
Sure, they might comply with what you ask or insist of them. But they might do that if you simply asked them to do something to resolve the issue, too— especially if you ask nicely and say please.
The saying that “you get more out of people with honey than you do with a stick” became a proverb for a reason: it is generally true. It is certainly true of how I respond to people.
If someone treats me with kindness, I will do everything in my power to not let them down.
If they dump judgement on me, I am just going to keep on beating myself up over it, because if someone tells me I am not good enough, I will believe them. I will also probably never again fully believe that they have any respect for me at all.
And if someone else, completely unknown to them and in different circumstances, tells me the same thing, I will believe both of them, twice as hard and twice as long.
It’s not deliberate, and it doesn’t matter if that is not your intention: that’s how I am wired.
The consequence is that it makes everything I need to do in a day more difficult. I doubt myself and second guess everything, even the things I know I am good at.
To be honest, life is actually hard enough without that. It’s bad enough knowing that I made the mistake in the first place, or that someone resents me for not measuring up to their standards. Add chronic pain, anxiety and depression into the mix, and it very quickly becomes both exhausting and excruciating.
It’s almost certain that that doesn’t just apply to me, either. Many people have internal battles or burdens of one kind or another that they keep hidden, but which add another level of complexity to whatever else they have to deal with in a day.
So when someone screws up— and we should all understand that everyone will, from time to to time— be kind. Tell them gently, person to person, and let them fix it, or at least try to.
Please. And thank you.
The article titled The Birth of the Semicolon published in 
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