Life is funny. 

A few weeks after that kitchen spill: I’m talking on my phone with a long time friend. 

It’s dark outside; and just as gloomy in my head.

I’m home, sitting on my new chic living room couch.

There’s nothing classy about my posture: it’s slouchy, but I’m comfy.

 In this exchange: I’m the main topic of discussion. 

I didn’t really volunteer this; but she asked for some details.

I extrapolate on my recent actions, my choices and my adjoined feelings. 

While talking about my marriage; my friend makes a few unfair conclusions. 

She talks about my reality; a little clumsily. Plus, she firmly tells me to listen.

I interrupt her rant. Wait. Sorry.

I try to recenter the focus on my perspectives.

The conversation is heavy, I feel a tense pressure in my neck. I feel judged and misunderstood. 

She defends her position as I struggle to remain receptive.

This exchange reminds me of a beloved series.

I think of that ¨face girl¨: a character from a certain episode of the Sex and the City series.

Loved me some SJP! I watched that TV series diligently. 

In this particular episode, Carrie runs into a woman that holds a very strong opinion of her.

This “face girl” makes a negative facial expression while referring to Carrie’s last relationship.

This leaves Carrie feeling poorly, doubtful and confused. 

My discussion was over the phone; but I’m just as deranged. 

I know that my friend is trying to help so I take a deep breath. I then take a few seconds in order to distance myself  —  from any compulsive energies. 

Stop that roll Alex!

I speak slowly and tell her nicely that I disagree. 

In vain: she rambles into another argumentation. Really?

I try, and I hold, I stay committed to my peace.

Damn. I notice the time displayed on the clock; it’s way later than I thought. 

My son needs a bath so I quickly conclude the conversation and guide him to the bathroom. 

As I’m quietly walking away from the phone; my thoughts are still buzzing loudly.

 

I know for sure: only the people involved in a situation can truly know what has happened between them. 

Why would an outside opinion matter?

 I’m unsure. In an everyday relationship, hundreds of details are unseen to the outside world.

Still, her words linger in my mind: I can still feel the sting they caused.

So here I am. 

On switched sides from the kitchen encounter, still around the empathy table.

“To empathize with someone’s experience, you must be willing to believe them as they see it and not how you imagine their experience to be.”  Brené Brown

I guess this confirms the above quote. Today I feel perplexed and cluttered.

I’ll go workout and meditate. I’ll try to balance my inner peace. 

Guess this is another balanced-matter-equation.

Should we only empathize  or is it beneficial to share an opinion?