To those people who know me: No, that title is not just a ploy to get you to read this and boost my blog's stats. (Though, I s'pose it worked). To those of you who don't get it: I'm "never" wrong. Thus, the title of this post would seem very ironic.
But I'd like to be practical and honest right now. I'm only human, and I do make mistakes. Lots of them. My hope is not to remove all trace of mistakes in my life, but to have a collection of experiences from which I can grow and learn. And with each misstep I take, I want to be able to say "I learned from that, and this is how I've changed to make myself better". Here's to hoping.
Just this evening, I had a lengthy conversation w/ V about life, work, and wedding-related things. There came a point where she asked me for input on something she's dealing w/. This happens all the time, and I appreciate the fact that V shares these parts of her life with me. I s'pose she'll "have" to do that when we're married, but I like that we're practicing for that now. It's good that she feels safe enough to ask for my opinion or input when she's confused or just wants a sounding board for her ideas. However, I'm prone to serious fits of chauvinistic stubborness; I can't help but sometimes think "That's really dumb. If I'd had a say, it'd've turned out way better." Overall, I'm pretty good at silencing that arrogant voice in my head, but not always.
Suffice to say, that little voice said a few choice words which really hurt V. She responded in kind w/ some hurtful and frustrating things of her own - our words are powerful. We were quiet for a long time after that, but I wasn't worried. This time, I knew I was right. A lot of the time, my conversations w/ V end in some kind of [deserved] apology on my part. I'm a dude, and an insensitive one at that. I'm just thankful that I've the wherewithal to see my mistakes for what they are. But not this time. Oh no. I even thought to myself:
"Aw yeah. Not this time, bro. No. This time, you got it. Hold your ground. You are not apologizing."
Seriously, I had this one. There was no way V had the philosophical high ground. She'd crossed a line, and I let her know it. She didn't even argue the point. What more of a flawless victory could I have?
The catch: My qualm w/ V and her spiteful backlash at me weren't on the same page. V lashed out at me in frustration. Me? I'd acted out b/c I felt that her situation was her problem and "dumb"; she'd gotten herself into this mess; she could get herself out. The situation worsened when we both got mad at each other, at which point I's just content to let her stew. But as I lay on my bed - stubborn silence stretching tenuously betwixt our phones - I remembered something I'd once said to V (and have since continued to tell her).
In comforting V, I've always told her that I'd support her. But everybody says that, right? I meant those words as a life-partner would mean them: I'd always have her back. No matter what happened, no matter what problem she was dealing with - no matter how dumb I thought it was - I would be there to help her through it. It didn't mean I'd say she was always right; that's not helpful. But I would be there to talk w/ her, comfort her, and let her feel safe when she felt that nothing or no one else could. That was my promise to her.
There's a saying I heard a while ago. It goes "Be careful what words you say. If you forget them they may return to you in different clothes and you will have to buy them." While it made sense to me when I'd first heard it, this was the first time I'd really experienced it firsthand.
This was exactly the situation I'd vowed to guard her against. Instead of coming alongside her, I was standing on "the other side" criticizing her situation and washing my hands of it. Why? B/c I thought it was dumb and thus I didn't have to involve myself. After all, I didn't do this. If only she were more like me, she wouldn't be in this mess. Why was she so worked up, anyhow? It's not like these people were so important that they warranted such attention. She hardly sees them; why can't she just let them go? I wouldn't be so bent out of shape over this.
I wasn't prepared for these pitfalls. Never before had my desire to be right, combined w/ frustration and arrogance, built so solid a wall of hostility as a wedge between us. Criticizing her put distance between me and what I felt was a bad situation. It felt like helping her would be endorsing bad behavior. Really, I just wasn't looking at things the right way.
As it turns out, I was Johnny-On-The-Spot: V hadn't figured out what bothered her so much about this situation. I had to apologize to her and explain the mistake I'd made. I confessed that I'd done exactly what I'd promised I wouldn't, and we both realized that's what upset her so much.
I'm not sure what the take-away is for this. Obviously, I'm fallible. But more than that, I've come to a better understanding of what loving Veronica really means. There's a level of self-sacrifice to giving up my own opinions for her sake; putting her needs - to feel safe from personal attack - above my desire to highlight her mistake. That's what a relationship w/ someone means. (I speak here of a romantic relationship, but I believe close, platonic ones could stand to try this too).
That's what I want for me and V.
