What infuriates us in other people can teach us.

It has taught me many lessons.

Currently, I’m pondering some such lesson.

He interjected half-heartedly. Loud enough that the whole room had to give attention. But it was mumbled and non-committal and unclear. He rambled. He didn’t ask a question, he just told stories about his life.

I pulled out my phone and started reading an article to drown out his waffling.

Even as I did that, I was trying to figure out what bothered me about it.

Whatever I don’t have space for in others, I don’t give myself space for. Who knows what room of my heart I have left untouched because I cannot bear to see its door?

It’s worth noting that he’s not a bad person. He’s never done me wrong, in fact, I don’t know that we’ve ever talked one-on-one. It was just one of those things.

I looked around, hoping that others were bothered by it too. No one else seemed bothered but I was steaming.We were 10 minutes past time because of his postulations, his monologue, his…What is bothering me?

I left the others own their own discomfort (or lack thereof) and paid attention to my own.

It has always been worthwhile to do this.

What would I have done differently? I would have been clear and articulate and succinct. I would have completely hidden the need for…

oh.

There it is.

The need for approval.

Not having it.

Displaying it so. damn. naively.

I’ve worked so hard to stamp it down and never show it that his was too painful to watch.

To the infuriating gentleman, thank you for the lesson.

(This is also a gentle reminder that, if someone has an issue with you, it’s probably more about them than it is about you.)