Discomfort Vs Safety
I hate being in situations where I don;t understand the social expectations.
This includes nearly all forms of confrontation.
Not knowing how things are supposed to go, not having a clear grasp of the rules of any interaction with people, makes me extremely nervous. Sometimes it makes me puke. I am not kidding when I say it’s among the hardest things I have to deal with.
For some things, my career of choice has made such interaction unavoidable. I have spent decades trying to get used to those specific interactions, both so I can fake them when they go off the rails of what I am used to, and so I just feel I have a stronger grasp on what their (generally unstated, often poorly understood) rules are.
When I don’t HAVE to interact in a way that makes me uncomfortable, I generally don’t. If I have spare spoons I might dip a toe in just to remind myself that fire won;t actually fall from the sky, but I rarely have the spare spoons.
Sometimes, however, I don’t feel I have a choice. Sometimes it’s about something more important than my comfort level.
My current apartment complex has a pond in the open area behind our building. It’s not huge, but at the center it is 4-5 feet deep. And, of course, as a result of the week+ of snow and sub-zero temperatures, it’s mostly frozen over.
But only mostly. And, that surface ice can’t be depended on.
Yesterday, I happened to glance out a window and see three boys playing on that ice. Throwing rocks to try to break through the ice… that they were standing on. Stomping on it to see if they could crack it.
I froze for a second. I did NOT want to have to interact with youngsters, age unknown, attitude unknown, and try to convince them (with no real authority) to stop paying on the ice.
In shock, I mentioned to my wife what I was seeing. She confirmed what I knew, but did not want to admit.
“Oh, lord, you need to tell them to cut it out!”
Yeah, I did need to. My discomfort, even if it was going to be extreme, was not as important as the safety of these boys. Yes, they were being stupid. But that doesn’t reduce the value of their lives.
So I stepped outside, and called out to them. I asked them to PLEASE not play on the ice. The ice could be thing, the water is dangerously cold, and if they slipped UNDER the ice it could be hard to get them out.
Oh, they said. Really?
Yeah, I promised. Really.
Okay, sir. Thanks!
And they got off the ice. And have not gotten back on it.
Objectively, this was an incredibly minor interaction.
Subjectively, I was exhausted and shaking for about 30 minutes.
But this wasn’t about me.
Sometimes, it isn’t about me.