Sender's Remorse

Those of you who know me well know that I hate confrontation. Don't like it, avoid it at (almost) all causes, sometimes get physically ill thinking about it. For whatever reason, I have such a strong desire for things to "be okay" that I put up with way more than I ought to in order to achieve that "okayness" in a relationship, even if I know deep down things aren't actually okay.

It's something I don't really like about myself, and I'm actively working on getting better at it. Regular (ha!) readers of this blog might recall that I recently got some positive reinforcement to stand up for myself more often after I got a little confrontational with the Moroccan. Events like those help, but it's a steep uphill path for me.

Actually, I would imagine this might come as surprise to those who know me less well. I think I come off as a pretty assertive person in my day to day life. I'll speak up on behalf of someone else without thinking twice. I've got no issues speaking my mind at work or in academic situations, so long as the issue is business, not personal. (This is part of the reason I think I may make a better staffer than candidate). I enjoy a challenging and even combative dinner party discussion and love to argue about big picture ideas. But as soon as a conflict borders on affecting a personal relationship, I lose all my nerve.

I express myself best through writing, and I can be at my bravest when I use the metaphorical pen and paper as a shield, Thus, those few times I manage to confront someone about a personal problem I'm having with them, it's usually via email. (Yeah, I know. Probably not the most mature way of doing it.)

Almost immediately after I send such an email, however, I am gripped with what I call 'sender's remorse.' It's an almost instantaneous, uncontrollable reaction: my stomach clenches up, I start to feel shaky, I immediately wish I had not pushed send. I re-read the email obsessively, trying to determine how the person will react, hoping they don't read anger into the lines (even if it was felt), hoping they can hear the love and affection in my voice behind what may seem like harsh words. And then I wait anxiously for a response -- hoping for some words of reassurance that everything is okay. That I didn't just blow up a friendship for no good reason at all.

So should you ever be on the receiving end of a harsh-seeming email from me, know that chances are good that either a) I didn't mean it the way it seems, or, b) I'm currently waiting, nauseous and distraught, to hear back from you.

Please be gentle.