In certain circles its avoided at all costs. Others over do it. Too much of it can become annoying or provoking. But too little of it? Well, that can turn into self-sabotage: torturous, painful, sickening. If one doesn't confront someone who hurts them, what happens then? It depends, I guess. Either we let things go or that person continues to hurt you over and over simply because something wasn't put to rest.
I have felt the pain that comes from hiding from anger, hurt, or frustration. I know what it feels like to be angry at someone who has hurt my feelings and instead of talking to them about it, sitting, frozen, in a whirlpool of words and phrases I want to say . Silence begets silence. It has a tendency to expand exponentially and the longer you sit, cold in the water, the deeper and deeper the words fall away from your tongue, the faster they swirl around you.
Ouch.
I can remember exactly when, in my life, that all began to change. It was during a class i took at Burlington College in VT. A three or four day-long class about dreams that took place at our professor's sweet green-roofed home in Lincoln, VT. We had to stay over, in tents, in his yard. We spent time learning about how different cultures view dreams and practiced remembering and writing down our dreams. We learned various ways of understanding the messages in dreams as well as practicing intention-building dream rituals.
I had the honor of being the focus of a dream/healing ritual where I sat in the middle of the circle of about ten people. They drummed and chanted while sending the intention of movement, of awareness, of opening, of healing.
It was incredibly overwhelming. As I sat there, my throat tightened and tightened and began to pound. All I could do was open my mouth and quietly cry. I honestly don't think that group had any idea what they were in for when I sat down in the middle of that circle. The ceremony ended with them walking me outside to the door of the dream hut. You are supposed to go into the hut with a journal, pen, and water. Nothing else. You are to pose a question and ask for a dream to give you what you need to know.
I was gifted a dream that changed everything. There were all these distinct characters: a wacky and wild short-haired blonde woman with glass in her lip, a young girl inviting me into her home, another woman being incredibly helpful and kind and my teacher with his hands on my back, helping/healing.
The night in that dream hut left me with some heavy realizations. Mainly that I had a lot of work to do. That I didn't want to live my life afraid to confront anyone. That the relief of getting something out was worth the discomfort of the process.
That was 14 years ago. One of my colleagues told me I was the queen of confrontation the other day. He said it because I handled some things at work that weren't easy and that he was struggling with. When he said it I had a moment of connection to my life as a whole. I saw how much I had grown since those days in Vermont. And I thought back to all the teachers along the way: my aunt, many different friends, teachers, boyfriends...
I have much gratitude to all the people who showed me that confrontation can be done safely and respectfully and is always worth the effort.
It brought back one of my favorite quotes that I memorized when I was in high school:
"The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear."
— Stephen King (Different Seasons)
