Thursday, June 23, 2011


Like almost everyone, I am surrounded by indirect people. People who rarely say what they mean and say what they feel even less. This is a problem. A big problem that's hard to fix because, well, no one wants to talk about it.

Why is this a problem? Isn't our ability to not say what's on our minds a trait we wish to harvest? After all, damn near every person can think of a coworker who talks about their feelings to an awkward extent or a loved one who says exactly how they feel to people directly to their face, usually with hilarious (read: bad) results.

And that's true. Spouting your opinion or feelings at every opportunity isn't going to win friends or sway people to your side. A religious person who slips Jesus into every conversation isn't going to gather converts, they're just going to get people to avoid talking to them.

No, what I'm talking about is when there is a problem. As an example, if you think a loved one is an alcoholic because you've found stashed booze and smell liquor on their breath before lunchtime, but aren't sure whether they're 'really' an alcoholic, what do you do? Most people, even spouses and parents and siblings, would try to avoid making a scene. After all, you are suggesting they don't have full control of themselves. They might think you're calling them weak, a drunkard, an addict. You can try to help them, but it might make things socially uncomfortable if they refuse.

They might even *gasp* get angry. And you can't have that.

Is it really worth the risk of making a scene to help someone save themselves from liver failure and job loss and higher rates of obesity and dementia? I mean, really, do you love them enough to let things to get weird?

But I'm not being direct. I'm being sarcastic. If you love them, you would help them no matter how awkward things would get. Because love is in and of itself awkward and uncomfortable and weird.

And love takes care of its own.

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