Andie and the Duck Man
(Molly Ringwald and John Crier)
"Do I offend?" This movie line, spoken by John Crier's Duck Man character in Pretty in Pink, popped into my head recently when I was worried that I might have offended a friend. Later in the day after getting together with her, I began to imagine that she might not have liked a comment I made. She hadn't acted offended at all, and at the time of our conversation no warning bells went off to signal that I had just put my foot in my mouth. I debated whether or not to bring it up. Might I only make it worse? I knew I shouldn't worry about one sentence uttered over a period of hours, yet I finally sent an email telling her I didn't mean to be offensive, to which she responded with surprise, because she wasn't upset at all, and in fact agreed with what I had said.
The Duck Man asks his question as he sniffs under his arm pits, and from my memory he emphasizes a long "o" in offend. In fact, he emphasizes the whole word. His attitude suggests that it is the person offended by him who really has the problem.
I think that those of us who have suffered the effects of alcoholism (or other mental/emotional/spiritual disorders), whether being the primary sufferer or the loved one of that person, may become fearful, even paranoid, that something about us stinks. A person once tried to convince me of both my friendlessness and my husband's. She had a problem with me, and as proof of something being inherently wrong with me, she brought others into the mix. She gave one particular name, a long time, close friend of mine, so I asked my friend point blank if it was true. While my friend had been concerned about me because of problems I was experiencing with the active alcoholism of a loved one, she did not have any personal issue with me, and in fact felt good about our friendship. We all have bouts of being difficult for others, but that doesn't mean we are in need of radical intervention.
Now we can see that the instigator of this situation put my friend in an awkward position. Whatever my friend had said, she did not expect her expression of concern for me to be used in a personal attack. At any rate, I started to assume that people would not like me or want to be my friend because of my figurative "bad odor". This was a reaction that piggy-backed the fear I had already experienced that people would keep a distance if they knew about my alcoholic situation. I had felt isolated from others by my personal hell--that is the nature of the effects of this disease. I realize today that the person who found me so offensive was deep in her own pain and distress and was taking it out on me, maybe even projecting her own feelings of friendlessness. I do not feel resentful, but gosh, wouldn't it be nice if we didn't have to undergo such pain? That wouldn't be real life though, and no one is exempt from suffering. No one "deserves" perpetual happiness.
I share this story because I realize that I am still affected by these past events in the present. I am still reacting to this experience and other times when I have been the recipient of unkindness and the withholding of grace. But since I know how hurtful such attacks can be, I can be more sensitive and kind to others. I can hold my tongue when I am feeling very emotional. I can talk to my husband first or a sane friend whose opinion I trust. Without being overly self-conscious in dealings with others, I can avoid being unnecessarily inflammatory, while at the same time upholding the dignity of my thoughts, wisdom, experience, and feelings. I can learn how not to act, because I know the extent of the damage of an ill-timed or caustic remark. I can feel the residual hurt without holding onto it. I can choose Love. This is of course the ideal situation to aim for, though it is progress, not perfection, that we can expect. We may still fall short of the mark when push comes to shove.
In a way I can't explain, my journey to the Catholic Church is returning me to my authentic personality. Having a clearer foundation in the Truth as my touchstone, I feel stronger in expressing my opinions and ideas. My confidence is coming back. I used to be bold and fearless, and these attributes are resurfacing. But I also have deeper humility and compassion than I did when I was a younger woman who had a hard time admitting that the other person could be right, that I could be wrong, or that we could both be right about some things and wrong about others. I feel that now I can stand up for myself, for a belief or a cause, and not walk on eggshells. I can also do it with more finesse, without such a sharp edge. Yet there still seems to be that devil on my shoulder whispering in my ear and poking me with his worrywart pitchfork.
The truth is, I have offended people. Is there anyone who hasn't? Okay, maybe Mother Mary. No, she offends people, too. Jesus really offended people. Honestly, it kills me when I know I have hurt someone's feelings. And I don't intend to be offensive and am usually surprised when I get that reaction. I don't see it coming. Someone has misunderstood my words, my intentions, my tone of voice, or my meaning. Sometimes I have not been clear and could have worded my thoughts better. I think some people simply like being offended. In college and my early twenties, I sometimes liked to be offended by my boyfriends so I could pick a fight when I was bored with them. And when they told me I was being overly sensitive, I could be doubly offended! So I know it's true; some people wallow in deeply offended feelings.
The problem is that you can't possibly know what will offend some people. There are those offended by dirty jokes, curse words, and the plumber's butt crack. These might seem to be universally offensive things, but some people love that stuff. I know a guy who is offended by fat people. Some are offended by the mention of Jesus, or the voice of President Obama, or commercials for Viagra. I personally harbor a prejudice against white trash. Which I guess is racist, too, even though I'm white. Cigarette butts on the sidewalk in front of a neighbor's house offend me. But that is my choice to be offended, not the fault of the smoker who has very bad, hillbilly habits.
So my conclusion is that as long as I don't intend to be offensive, then I just can't be overly concerned with how another person might take me. I think that's why I am so annoyed by the current "just sayin' " trend in which people tack on that phrase to be passive-aggressive, or when they are aware that they are being intentionally offensive but want to cover their behinds. Either speak your mind or keep it to yourself! This half-assed, "just sayin' " nonsense offends my sensibilities. I'm just so sensitive!!
But what do I care if people are wishy-washy Charlie Browns? That's their business. And it's none of my business what people think of me. No one should be telling me what someone else said about me (unless it is nice, of course!). If someone has a problem with me, and he behaves like an adult, he will bring it to my attention himself. And then I can make amends if necessary and clear up any misunderstanding, or hash out a disagreement, unpleasant as that may be. It's like our culture is trapped in a long, extended adolescence, and no one teaches that you shouldn't gossip anymore. Everyone used to know that gossiping was evil. Now it's the status quo, especially on Facebook. So is being just plain mean.
The moral of the story is that I should not have worried that my friend was offended. If she had been, she would have come to me with it. And if a friend or relative is offended but does not bring it to my attention, then that may be a friendship I could do without. Likewise with the person who brings his concern to me wearing war paint and assuming that I had sinister intentions, giving me no benefit of the doubt. On the other hand, if we know we have been hurtful, then it is our responsibility to own our part in the problem like grown ups. Sure, the real me may lose some friends along the way. But she will most likely gain other, and better, companions. The true blue ones stick around, while the fair weathers are blown about by every wind and will sale off in a ship of their own making. The circle I have around me will eventually all be Real Rabbits, the more I allow myself to be one. We can love the person who gave us the bad record playing over in our minds even as we throw away the record. Admit that the record is scratched beyond use and skips endlessly in the same place and just bury it in the ground of Grace.
The Velveteen Rabbit
