Let me start
with something that still amazes me after nearly eighty years.
The human
brain has remained virtually unchanged for the past hundred thousand years. The
same brain that lived in caves, painted on walls, and huddled around fires is
the same brain sitting in your skull right now. The same fears. The same hopes.
The same tendency to leap to conclusions that are completely, spectacularly
wrong.
How humbling
is that?
Your
ancestors looked at a rustling bush and assumed a tiger. Sometimes they were
right. Sometimes it was the wind. But the ones who assumed tiger and ran lived
to tell the tale. The ones who assumed wind sometimes did not.
We inherited
that brain. And we still use it. Except now, the rustling bush is not a tiger.
It is a friend who did not return our call. A neighbour who looked at us funny.
A Family member who said something that stung. And our ancient tiger brain
says, “They hate you. They never cared. This is the end of the
world.”
Spoiler: It
is almost always the wind.
Here is a
truth I have learned the hard way, over and over, across eight decades.
When we are
hurt in a relationship, when we are spinning in confusion, trying to figure out
why someone did what they did, the explanation we choose usually has more to do
with our own fears and vulnerabilities than it does with reality.
We think
they are angry at us. Actually, they just had a bad day.
We think they are ignoring us. Actually, they never saw the message.
We think they meant to hurt us. Actually, they were hurting themselves and we
happened to be standing there.
Almost
always, the true explanation has nothing to do with us. It has to do with the
fears and vulnerabilities roiling in the other person, invisibly to us.
That is not
an excuse for bad behaviour. It is an invitation to stop making everything
about us.
Here is the
uncomfortable truth. We do not live in reality. We live in the stories we tell
ourselves about reality.
We are
sensemaking creatures. We cannot help it. Something happens, and our brain
immediately constructs a story about what happened and why. The problem is that
these stories are at best incomplete and at worst injuriously incorrect.
And the cost
of our wrong stories? Connection. Trust. Love.
How many
friendships have you seen end over a misunderstanding that could have been
cleared up with one honest conversation? How many families have been split
apart by a story someone told themselves and refused to let go of?
I have seen
it. You have seen it. Maybe we have even done it.
The great
Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh said something that stopped me in my tracks.
He said that much of our suffering comes from wrong perceptions. Not from what
actually happened. From what we think happened.
And the only
way to remove the hurt is to remove the wrong perception.
That is not
about being weak. That is not about letting people off the hook. That is about
caring for yourself. Why would you choose to carry a hurt that is based on
something that might not even be true?
You would
not. Not if you thought about it. But we do not think about it. We just feel
it. And then we act on it. And then we make everything worse.
Here is a
simple practice that has saved me more times than I can count. The next time
you feel hurt by someone, try these three things.
First,
acknowledge internally that the picture you have in your head may not be
accurate.
Just say it
to yourself. “I think they meant to hurt me. But I could be wrong.”
That tiny crack of doubt is where healing begins.
Second, when
you are ready, go to the person—not with an accusation, but with a request for
help.
Instead of
saying, “Why did you ignore me?” try saying, “I am feeling hurt,
and I know my hurt may come from my own wrong perception. Can you help me
understand what happened?”
That is not
weakness. That is courage. That is the courage to be wrong.
Third—and
this is the hardest part—listen. Really listen. Not to prepare your defense.
Not to plan your counterattack. Listen to understand.
The other
person may have a story you have not considered. It may be true. It may not be.
But you will never know if you do not listen.
Here is why
I am sharing this with you.
Younger
people are watching us. They are watching how we handle conflict. How we
apologize. How we admit we were wrong. How we reach across divides and rebuild
bridges.
And right
now, the world is full of people who have decided that their story is the only
story. That their hurt is the only hurt that matters. That the other side is
evil and cannot be listened to.
You and I
have lived long enough to know better. We have been wrong before. We have
apologized before. We have been forgiven before. We have seen Relationships
restored by nothing more than a willingness to say, “I may have
misunderstood. Help me understand.”
That is
leadership. That is being a role model. That is showing the next generation
that Growth comes from change, and happiness comes from acceptance, and
merrily, we are built to do both at once.
Here is the
thing about being eighty. I have been wrong so many times that I might as
well get good at admitting it.
I have been
wrong about people I loved. Wrong about situations I was sure I understood.
Wrong about why my wife was upset (spoiler: it was almost never what I
thought). Wrong about why my children did what they did.
And every
single time, when I finally stopped defending my wrong perception and started
listening, something shifted. The hurt diminished. The connection restored. The
love came back.
Not because
I was right. Because I was willing to be wrong.
That is the
gift of age. Not certainty. Humility. Not the last word. The courage to ask for
help.
So here is
my challenge to you. The next time you feel hurt, pause. Ask yourself:Â Could
my story be wrong?
And then, if
you are brave enough, go find out.
You might be
surprised. You might be relieved. You might just save a relationship that
matters more than being right.
And the
younger people watching? They will learn something too.
They will
learn that being a grown-up is not about having all the answers.
It is about
being willing to ask the questions.
Originally Published on https://boomersnotsenior.blogspot.com/
