Passive Aggressiveness (featuring “Mr. Mister”)

You know how they say you’ll be the same sort of person when you’re married that you are when you’re single? Well, tonight does not bode well. If they are right, then someday poor Mr. Mister will be being unknowingly obnoxious to me, and I won’t say anything about it. Until I explode, that is. What if, one of these days, I happen to be writing a paper or a story or anything that has to be done, and he’s blithely talking loudly or playing music to relax or something? How will I let him know that I’m bothered? Here is what I’ll do, apparently.

Nothing.

I can imagine it vividly.

I’ll just sit there, thinking dark thoughts.

I can’t think of anything to say. I don’t want to hurt people’s feelings–and (here’s the key point)–I want to avoid confrontation. So every now and then maybe I’ll do some weak-sauce physical gesture, like sighing or shifting around or subtly not smiling at his silly joke.

Surely he’ll get the hint.

Surely.

…Eventually?…

I don’t want to hurt the man’s feelings by telling him I have a bad attitude about what he’s doing, thereby giving him a chance to remedy the situation.  I just want him to read my mind and see that I’m annoyed!

Actually, what kind of man is he not to see that he is being rude and insensitive? What a slob for being loud when I’m clearly needing to concentrate.

If were annoying someone, I bet I could tell, and then I’d stop.

Cause I’m perfect, you know.

………………………………………………………………

Then, apparently, if things pan out like they did tonight, Mr. Mister will pull a chocolate bar from his jacket pocket and share my favorite candy with me. And then I’ll feel horrible for thinking mean things about the boy.

And if I don’t get better at expressing frustration in a patient way…

If I don’t get over this passive-aggressive desire to avoid conflict at all costs

then I think it’ll just happen again and again and again.

………………………………………………………………..

Oh, help.

I need help.

Specifically, I need God to continue teaching me how to love people well, so that, right now–while Mr. Mister still doesn’t have a name–I can be learning how to be a patient, honest person who doesn’t bottle up her frustration till it’s so potent it might really hurt others.

 The End (for now)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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