“True love comes from understanding.” ~Buddha
I think one of our strongest desires in life is to feel understood.
We want to know that people not only understand our good intentions and understand where we’re coming from, but also guide us.
We want to know if they see us. They are aware of the thoughts, feelings, and struggles that underlie our choices, and may even empathize with and empathize with them. And if they were in our shoes, they would probably do the same.
Perhaps if they had been where we were and seen what we saw, they would have been where we are now, in the same situation, with the same beliefs, and making the same choices.
At the root of all this may be a desire to feel acknowledged.
We are social creatures and thrive on feeling a sense of belonging. It requires a certain sense of security, and that depends on feeling valued and accepted. But that feeling doesn’t always come easily.
There was a time when one of my relationships felt very unsafe. I never felt understood or acknowledged. Even worse, I often felt like the other person had no intention of understanding me.
If you withhold the comfort of understanding, it can instill in you a sense of power. It also creates a sense of separation, which some people find more secure than intimacy.
This person often assumed the worst of me – that I was selfish and weak – and interpreted my actions through this lens.
They disrespected my beliefs and opinions, as if they didn’t need consideration or respect.
And when I tried to share my thoughts and feelings, they even made fun of me, belittling not only my perspective but also my humanity. As if I had no value. As if I wasn’t worth listening to. Like I didn’t deserve respect.
it hurts.
It hurts when you feel like someone isn’t interested in hearing where you’re coming from or hearing your opinion.
It hurts when you feel like someone is more focused on misunderstanding you than building common ground.
Feeling invalidated is painful.
We often take that pain and become angry. At least that’s what I did.
I fought. I screamed. I cried. I tried to force them to see my basic goodness and see the world from my perspective.
I tried to impose my will on them, my will to feel valued and heard, regardless of whether they were willing or able to offer me such courtesy. And I justified this madness with an infuriating sense of justice, even though it caused me a lot of pain.
Because people should try to understand. People should treat each other with respect. People should be kind, loving and open. Because it makes the world feel safe.
But what I learned here is that “shoulds” are always a trap. Things are never the way we think they are and resisting this only causes suffering.
But more importantly, you can be more empowered than forcing others to be the way you think they should be. And it’s about becoming that person yourself.
I realized that in this case, it meant understanding people who wouldn’t or probably couldn’t understand me.
Remember how I wrote that for some people, separation is safer than intimacy?
This was actually a huge insight for me. Perhaps when someone doesn’t seem willing to understand and embrace me, it’s more that, for reasons I’ll never know, they just can’t accept me.
I actually did a lot of research trying to understand what makes someone, especially this person, close to understanding. What kind of pain could have made their hearts so hard? As is often the case when I dig, I find a lot of things that can explain it.
I discovered unresolved trauma that likely led to deep feelings of shame and weakness, which may have become entrenched in the need to always be and appear strong. impregnable. And if you can’t break in, you can’t break in much. It’s not a new idea, and it’s not an attempt to build a deep relationship. It’s really sad when you think about it.
Yes, it hurts to feel like someone doesn’t understand you. But accepting someone into your heart actually hurts, and can you imagine the pain that almost no one can understand? Can you imagine living your life so guarded, so scared, always hiding, and perhaps not even realizing it?
I’ve come to believe that when someone doesn’t make an effort to understand us, it’s usually because of deep pain that is preventing us from loving.
They may be shut down to anyone. Or a certain idea that triggers something from the past. Or maybe we ourselves are the triggers.
Maybe we remind them of something they would like to forget. Maybe our very existence forces us to face what they want to avoid.
I remember once reading an article about a woman’s contentious relationship with her mother-in-law. The author gave an example of a mother-in-law who was always complaining about her daughter-in-law’s couch and wrote, “You never know. She could have been raped on a couch that looks just like yours.”
This shocked me a lot. The idea that everyone has secret pain locked away in shame, which often manifests itself in harmful behavior.
I know I’ve been there before. I’m not too proud to admit it, but I’ve shut people out and cut them off because they caused me some pain within me. Knowing this, you can see how pain brings out the worst in us.
Considering this does not justify disrespect or abuse of any kind. We do not condone abuse. But if we really want to understand, perhaps the key is to choose to understand.
Perhaps the secret is for us to look beyond what instantly feels safe and do our part to bring a greater sense of safety to everyone we meet.
Perhaps by choosing to offer understanding, you can influence those around you to heal from their pain, allowing them one day to open up a little more widely. When you’re ready. When they feel safe.
So what is the best thing to say to someone who doesn’t understand you? I think “I understand that you don’t understand.”
I think it’s about accepting the other person for who they are, even if you don’t know where they’re coming from or what drives them.
Because even if we don’t know the details, we can know that there is some explanation for the complex interplay of past events and psychological factors that make up the kind of person they are.
This is not easy.
Boundaries often need to be created, whether that means avoiding certain conversations or putting physical distance in the relationship.
Before we react impulsively, defensively, or with anger, we need to stop and connect with our deepest intentions.
And it also requires us to grieve and let go of the relationship we had hoped for, knowing that we were providing someone else with sympathy and consideration that they may never receive in return.
It’s comforting to know that this is the higher path, not because I feel superior at higher altitudes, but because it’s less painful for me and for everyone I meet in life.
When I choose to be the change I want, it doesn’t matter as much to me that others see me, value me, understand me, and understand my good intentions. Because I know that I come from a place of love, kindness, and honesty.
And this is a strong foundation for living in a world full of hurting people who are not ready or able to love.
**If this resonates with you, be sure to check out the new Founder Friday: Letters from Lori newsletter for more of my stories and insights not featured on the blog. If you want to try it out, you can get your first month free here. Your subscription also helps support Tiny Buddha and keep the site running.
