I want this to be quick, because it’s incredibly old news. This morning, I was told, “You come off as arrogant and make people feel small.” This was a reactionary comment when I informed my coworker that I had gotten my CADAC II and was relatively displeased with my score. I poo-pooed the idea of getting what I considered a C+ (it’s not even scored that way), and how relatively “easy” and “useless” the study materials were. I conveyed that I would have been beaten for that grade as a kid.
My coworker is an addict, has 10 felonies, openly admits to functionally destroying the foundation of her child’s life, and “worked really hard” for her 500-something score. When she hears me talk, generally, about anything I consider important about my personality, capability, style, or work ethic, she’s annoyed. She questioned my ability to function in a team. She maintains this posture that she’ll tell you “straight up” what she thinks in case no one else can be bothered. She’s also the one who whispered to management about how I smelled.
I know she’s vulnerable. I know she feels like she’s walking a precarious line too. What fucks me up is that, again, we’re COUNSELORS. We’re supposed to be good at open and honest communication and practicing what we preach. I wrote a 1-page mini digression hoping to explain to her some of the reasons I have the personality I do. Her response was to tell me, “That was a whole lot of words to tell me ‘fuck you.'"
While not exactly an invitation, boy did it feel like one. You could know nothing else about me but my proclivity to say “fuck you.” But, I’m so much worse than that. I’m downright mean. I’m a genuine threat to your continued sobriety if I bury my comments deep in your broken brain. That’s what fucks me up about this. If you genuinely value your place in the world and what you’ve achieved in spite of setbacks, why, on your life, would you provoke someone with the capacity to *accidentally* make you feel small?
If you are going to assist me in becoming exceptionally angry, prompt the bodily recall of the trauma of my childhood living environment. Make me feel like I’m walking on eggshells because I can’t trust how you’re going to respond to something. Guilt trip me or accuse me of not thinking about things in the exact manner you think I should be thinking them. Take my earnest effort to relate and make a condescending summary judgment of my being meant to shuffle me away and dismiss the different points or questions I raised. Fluidly contradict yourself while taking a wanton high-minded heavy-handed swipe at your conception of me. Ping, ground floor, let’s ask you if this is exactly the way you convinced your child to become an addict too.
Of course, I didn’t ask her that. But, were I less concerned with money or practicing what I preach as a literal counselor, I can, will, and want to. I want to say it with that tone that tells you I don’t care if you live or die, because I’ll mean it that way. I want you to experience those consequences you harp on about, but don’t sincerely attempt to translate to your clients.
I get immensely positive feedback from people open and willing to receive what I’m offering. My clients tell me things like, “It seems like you actually care,” “I think it’s amazing you actually get people to engage,” “You talk like us so it’s easier to relate to,”I’ve never had this kind of one-on-one with any of my previous counselors.” Is there always going to be some level of blowing smoke up my ass and flattery with this population? Duh. Can I tell the difference? I’d be an embarrassingly shitty counselor/assessor/teacher if I couldn’t.
Thankfully, I’m so aware of my process, that I can experience the elevated blood pressure, the cold dead thousand yard stare, the litany of horrible things I wish to say, and the rush of the idea of burning things down professionally and interpersonally, and feel myself getting bored talking about it, wishing to catch up on my truly stellar lineup of TV shows. The weather is brilliant. I’m hungry. And, yet again, I prove that I occupy rarefied and privileged air in my capacity to not just make you feel small, but reduce you to the unquestionably unstable projection that lies at the heart of your being. That makes me feel pretty big and powerful. When you feel small, consider, you just might be, and not simply because I’m selectively psychopathic or mean. I suspect when I draw your awareness onto that it stings exceedingly more than a pithy “fuck you.”
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