Recently I was talking to a friend about dudes who claim that their “feelings were hurt” for highly trivial reasons subsequent to displaying shockingly sociopathic lacks of feelings during breakups. No one in particular. Just, you know, in general.
I am not really a big “feelings” girl myself. Never have been. Don’t like sappy movies; not crazy about over-processing things; once had a boyfriend who would get mad at me for not squeezing his hand back when he’d squeeze mine. (The latter is a first world relationship problem and I kind of wish I’d hung in there longer on that one.)
Don’t get me wrong. I have feelings. LOTS of them. Lots and lots and lots. Boy do I have feelings.
I’m just not very good at talking about my feelings. And especially not with someone I have feelings for. In fact, if I am talking to you about my feelings, chances are it’s cuz I don’t have any. For you.
Still, I think I understand what feelings are all about.
I used to work for a yoga teacher who was big on the Marshall Rosenberg school of Nonviolent Conflict talk. In this paradigm, every conversation sounds something like this:
“Dude, when you disrespect me, I feel hurt.”
See what I did there? I simultaneously let Dude know that he/she disrespected me, without actually assigning Dude the blame for my feelings. Cuz, in reality, no one can make you feel anything. You’re pretty much in charge of your own feelings, sadly.
When we were on yoga retreats (aka yoga “bootcamps”), we would exercise this type of nonviolent speech according to a predefined shortlist of acceptable feelings. The list looked something like this:
List of Possible Feelings
- Angry
- Sad
- Hurt
- Happy
- Shameful
Occasionally people would try to sneak in other feelings like “bored” or “irritated,” but Teacher would gently put them in their place and let them know that “irritated” actually means “angry” and “bored” actually means “sad,” or whatever.
○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○
A few years after I learned how to communicate in nonviolent conflict terms, I found myself in therapy with a live-in boyfriend who we’ll call DB. At some point during our short-lived attempt to repair our godawful relationship, our bargain therapist suggested that he get better about talking about his feelings and that I, in turn, practice listening and respecting them. I was game.
Until, that is, the night that DB decided to exercise his right to have feelings. The conversation went something like this:
DB: “I’m gonna go out with my friend Ryan and get some beers.”
Me: But we have plans?
DB: But I feel like going out with Ryan instead.
Me: What? That’s not cool.
DB: You’re doing it. You’re not listening to my feelings.
Me: What?
DB: I said that I feel like going out with Ryan.
Me: Wait. Do you think that “going out with Ryan” is a feeling?
DB: That’s what I said.
Me: [Blank stare.]
Needless to say, therapy didn’t go anywhere, and neither did our relationship.
The end.
(I’ve discovered a new literary tool — when you can’t think of a good ending for a story you just end it with “The End.” Works literally every single time!)
