Disappointing people

On being the receiver – and the giver – of disappointment

The moment I realize that they have lied to me feels like a punch in the stomach. A hot wave of hurt and anger spreads through my body, starting from my stomach and flooding every inch of me. I feel embarrassed, stupid, disappointed, and shaken. You can’t trust anyone, I think, close to tears. People are the worst. And then I mutter to myself savagely: “I knew it. I always knew it.”

At 18 I decided on a career as forest ranger for two reasons: because I could have my dog with me at work, and because I would spend more time with trees than with people. I had just come out of a months-long depression that I didn't understand, since I didn’t know that what I had just gone through was depression. As far as I remember, nobody suggested it to me either; it was 1998, and mental health was on nobody’s horizon at the time. All I knew was that I blamed other people for feeling the way I did, because people were the worst.

I thought of that sentiment after my latest disappointment, and it helped me put it into perspective. Not right away, though, oh no: for a few days I was too hurt to think straight, and had to process what I was feeling. Was it injured pride? Lost faith in humanity? Doubt in my ability to choose friends? And then there were the darker thoughts: was it my fault? Did I deserve to be treated that way?

Whenever I get into this dangerous territory I have to take a step back. Nobody thinks of you as much as you think they are, I remind myself. They’re all too busy with their own lives. Those thoughts of believing it’s all about me are not the thoughts of the grown-up me; they are coming from my inner child. Up to a certain age, children make everything about themselves, assuming that the entire world thinks and feels like them. If someone disappoints them, they assume that the person intended to do that.

When we get hurt, it’s often our inner child that responds first. We forget everything we've learnt and leap straight back into childhood, into feeling helpless and scared. We kick and scream, and like a child we see the world as black and white and talk in absolutes: everybody sucks, everybody is out to get us, the whole world is unfair.

Obviously, that’s not true. Everybody sucks some of the time, but none of us suck all the time. We are all flawed human beings, it’s our first time on earth, and we mess up. A lot. How can we not, without a dress rehearsal?

After a few days, after the first sharp sting had softened to a dull ache, I was able to remember that I wasn’t a child anymore, and that I should try to look at the situation from their point of view. Here’s what I came up with: I believe that it wasn’t personal. They did what they thought was best for them. We all have core principles guiding us (check out my friend Kerstin’s latest excellent post on core values), and I have no doubt that they were following theirs.

It also made me think of a quote I’ve read years ago (I can’t remember who wrote it) that made me aware of something I’d never considered until then:
“You are the villain in someone else’s story.”
My first reaction was outraged denial. Me, a villain? No way! My intentions were good! I didn’t mean to hurt anyone! If I did mess up it was because I was human, and messing up was inevitable–
And then the penny dropped. Oooooh, I see what you did there.

I had truly never looked at it like that before. But it makes sense! All that boundary setting I’m always banging on about is bound to upset some people. It’s easy to see how someone who could always rely on me to say yes to the thing they wanted me to do for them wouldn’t like being told no all of a sudden. She’s become so selfish, I can hear them say, and if selfish means prioritizing my needs over theirs, then yes, I am.

I have ghosted people whom I realized are toxic to my wellbeing, even though they probably aren’t bad people. But since I became sober I’m protecting my mental health fiercely, and if someone doesn’t feel good to be around, I won’t be around them anymore. Does that make me a villain?

I have stopped going to events I don’t want to go to, preferring to either spend the time with loved ones or with myself. Have I disappointed people by doing that?

I have opinions now that are no doubt offensive to a few people. I’m speaking truths that some people would rather see hidden away and never talked about. I know that the way I’m becoming is either uncomfortable or a nuisance to some.

So yes, it turns out that I have – inadvertently – disappointed a number of people as well.
Here is the thing though: it’s impossible to be all things to all people. Without exception, every single one of us is disappointing sometimes. But the great news is that at other times, we’ve cheered someone up, made them feel appreciated and loved, reached out a helping hand when they needed it.
We are not defined by one action or one character trait only. We contain multitudes: good and bad, generosity and pettiness, self-protectiveness and protectiveness towards others.

Disappointment is a part of life. I know people that have been so hurt by others that they’ve chosen not to let anyone get close to them, too afraid to get hurt again. While it’s understandable, they’re doing themselves a great disservice. While they may avoid some disappointment, they’re also missing out on friendship, joy, laughter, and community.

Trusting others is a risk. Opening up our hearts sets us up for getting hurt. Loving others will lead to heartbreak.
But are we truly alive if we’re not doing any of these things? Isn’t the benefit worth the risk? There can be no love without heartbreak, no friendship without hurt feelings, no understanding without misunderstandings.
And wouldn’t missing out on love and friendship be the greatest disappointment of them all?