Oh I think I see what you mean. If there’s always a cost to saying no, then all boundary violations are basically threats and hence aggressive.
And I think you always lose something if you say no to someone—always. It is always coercive. It just may not be visible on the surface—but they will resent you a little bit for it, and the more you do it the more resentment will build up.
I recognize this, or at least something like it—it’s like when people ask for your opinions. People say that there is no wrong answer and that you should say what you really think, but I always felt that that wasn’t true. There are wrong answers, and you will know that they are wrong because people will respond negatively to them (e.g. they like you less afterwards because your opinion differed from theirs). People don’t really want to hear what you have to say; they just want validation.
To avoid saying the wrong thing, I ended up trying to figure out what people were hoping to hear (e.g. based on how they phrase their questions), so that I could tell them what they wanted me to say. I didn’t even notice that habit until one day when someone asked me a question and I couldn’t tell what they wanted—they were completely blank to me. I ended up giving an answer truer to myself, and was expecting a negative response. Yet they didn’t show disapproval, and more surprisingly, neither did they show approval. They really just did want my answer!
The experience showed me that something I thought was a trait of all humans was actually more like an attribute that varies based on the individual. Some people just want validation, but others genuinely want to hear what you have to say. That changes the game, because it means it’s not actually my job to say what people want to hear, it’s just how some people prefer to be dealt with. I can always keep my true thoughts aside for people who want to hear them.
Some time after, I shared my opinion with someone who responded dismissively. Yet days later, they asked me a question that showed that they were thinking about what I’d said. I learned that just because someone responds negatively, it doesn’t necessarily mean they are upset with me and want me to be different; sometimes it’s just a natural response to hearing something you don’t like or even just something new. What’s interesting is that had I continued saying what I thought others would want to hear, I wouldn’t have realised that people are ok with listening to what I have to say.
There are things I tend to avoid because they weren’t good experiences in the past and when I think of doing them now, it just feels like a bad idea. Sometimes when I’m with the right people or in the right context though, my mind realizes that there is a very low likelihood of something terrible happening, it’s just my heart that’s convinced that something awful will happen. But when my heart wants something badly enough, the risk becomes worth it and so I try it even though it feels scary. So far, it’s paid off every time. Sure, sometimes it doesn’t go the way I hope for, but then again nothing terrible happened either.
I think the difference is that where I used to pay attention to just my negative experiences, I now also pay attention to when there isn’t a negative response, both for my myself and when watching others interact. I notice that the ratio is different from what I’d always thought it was (1:0), because the people I’m with are different, because people change, and because I pay attention to a broader slice of reality. That’s why to feels safer to try (with the right people). (There’s also that I’m more capable now, and can therefore cope better with anything that might happen.)
I think it’s quite interesting how sometimes you can’t tell if your beliefs are wrong unless you are willing to do things that past experiences say you shouldn’t, and create opportunities to prove your beliefs false. It’s like confirmation bias, except I’d never thought to apply it to personal/emotional experiences.
I don’t know, can’t know what your experiences are like—I couldn’t even understand Caperu_Wesperizzon’s and your comments. I want to say though, that I think people who are nice and good with boundaries do exist, and I hope that you get to meet them someday.
Oh I think I see what you mean. If there’s always a cost to saying no, then all boundary violations are basically threats and hence aggressive.
I recognize this, or at least something like it—it’s like when people ask for your opinions. People say that there is no wrong answer and that you should say what you really think, but I always felt that that wasn’t true. There are wrong answers, and you will know that they are wrong because people will respond negatively to them (e.g. they like you less afterwards because your opinion differed from theirs). People don’t really want to hear what you have to say; they just want validation.
To avoid saying the wrong thing, I ended up trying to figure out what people were hoping to hear (e.g. based on how they phrase their questions), so that I could tell them what they wanted me to say. I didn’t even notice that habit until one day when someone asked me a question and I couldn’t tell what they wanted—they were completely blank to me. I ended up giving an answer truer to myself, and was expecting a negative response. Yet they didn’t show disapproval, and more surprisingly, neither did they show approval. They really just did want my answer!
The experience showed me that something I thought was a trait of all humans was actually more like an attribute that varies based on the individual. Some people just want validation, but others genuinely want to hear what you have to say. That changes the game, because it means it’s not actually my job to say what people want to hear, it’s just how some people prefer to be dealt with. I can always keep my true thoughts aside for people who want to hear them.
Some time after, I shared my opinion with someone who responded dismissively. Yet days later, they asked me a question that showed that they were thinking about what I’d said. I learned that just because someone responds negatively, it doesn’t necessarily mean they are upset with me and want me to be different; sometimes it’s just a natural response to hearing something you don’t like or even just something new. What’s interesting is that had I continued saying what I thought others would want to hear, I wouldn’t have realised that people are ok with listening to what I have to say.
There are things I tend to avoid because they weren’t good experiences in the past and when I think of doing them now, it just feels like a bad idea. Sometimes when I’m with the right people or in the right context though, my mind realizes that there is a very low likelihood of something terrible happening, it’s just my heart that’s convinced that something awful will happen. But when my heart wants something badly enough, the risk becomes worth it and so I try it even though it feels scary. So far, it’s paid off every time. Sure, sometimes it doesn’t go the way I hope for, but then again nothing terrible happened either.
I think the difference is that where I used to pay attention to just my negative experiences, I now also pay attention to when there isn’t a negative response, both for my myself and when watching others interact. I notice that the ratio is different from what I’d always thought it was (1:0), because the people I’m with are different, because people change, and because I pay attention to a broader slice of reality. That’s why to feels safer to try (with the right people). (There’s also that I’m more capable now, and can therefore cope better with anything that might happen.)
I think it’s quite interesting how sometimes you can’t tell if your beliefs are wrong unless you are willing to do things that past experiences say you shouldn’t, and create opportunities to prove your beliefs false. It’s like confirmation bias, except I’d never thought to apply it to personal/emotional experiences.
I don’t know, can’t know what your experiences are like—I couldn’t even understand Caperu_Wesperizzon’s and your comments. I want to say though, that I think people who are nice and good with boundaries do exist, and I hope that you get to meet them someday.