A couple thoughts on the delisting fuss now fussing at a blog near you.
I don’t think it’s quite fair—even though I’ve done it—to say that nobody should ever be concerned or upset that someone who used to link to you no longer does.
Several reasons for that, which boil down to the various reasons people delink. One reason, try though we may to deny it, is frank aggression, which (as many before me have pointed out) most often manifests itself in wilful, angry public declaration and justification for the delinking. Sure, we ought not meet anger with anger—but I am hardly in any position to say it’s an unnatural reaction.
Another reason is simple offense; reading a formerly-linked-to blog causes a rise in blood pressure or other such unlovely reactions. Mike appears to have delinked me, probably for this reason. I don’t blame him. I daresay I would have done the same in his shoes. I don’t think feeling regret over it (as I do) is unreasonable, however.
Nor, obviously, do I think we should dismiss the offense we cause, much less ridicule or demean those we have (however accidentally) offended. Paying attention, apologizing when necessary (and even when not), clarifying ourselves, trying to mend our ways permanently when we recognize the hurt we cause, recognizing that hurt to begin with—that’s all part of being a decent human being. (At least for this human being.) I’ve tried to do that here, but I will certainly admit room for improvement.
It’s worth pointing out a behavior pattern I think I share with quite a few people, which may illustrate to some extent some recent blowups in the blogsphere.
Mostly I am an anger-swallower; I swallow offense, anger, and similar reactions the way a fakir swallows knives. While an angry outburst from me looks sudden and senseless, it’s a safe bet there’s been more going on behind the scenes. I don’t just suddenly blow up. Doesn’t happen.
Which means, typically, that responding only to what appears to be the immediate cause of anger isn’t going to help, not one bit. Especially if the response is as belligerent (or more so) as whatever I did to prompt it. I daresay lots of people can say that.
Or—and this is the important bit—if the response is self-justificatory, “I did nothing wrong” stuff. When I’m angry this never fails to sound like “Yeah, I pissed you off, and what’s more, I’m glad! Who do you think you are to be angry anyway?”
Whereas an apology or similar show of acknowledgment cools me down—not right away, sometimes, but much faster than I would manage on my own. My husband is a master at this, though I will say (and I think he would too) I truly don’t give him too many opportunities to demonstrate his mastery.
He knows that I can’t discuss whatever’s wrong like a rational human being until I’ve—well, turned back into a rational human being. So he says what’s needed to calm me down, no matter what he thinks about the issue at hand, and then we figure out what’s wrong (which involves going back some distance in time, usually, because of my delayed-reaction explosions) and how to fix it.
And then I apologize for being such a jerk. No, I do. Invariably. It’s that Serious contrition in action.
What I cannot, cannot manage to do when I am really angry is respond appropriately to someone’s attempts to justify their actions. It only makes me angrier, so much so that it tempts me toward unacceptable behavior. I am so aware of this particular failing of mine that I have scared or offended people by literally walking away from them and refusing contact. It isn’t anything they did, which is why they are legitimately confused or frightened; it’s me unable to trust myself not to make matters worse, both internally and externally.
I used to think this was a difference in degree of anger; when I’m thoroughly angry, I sulk and refuse reconciliation, whereas I can be reasoned with when I’ve got a more moderate mad-on. I can’t square that with events, though. My husband has brought me down from a towering fury in ten seconds flat, whereas much less important (in hindsight) issues have been known to keep me in an angry simmer with the occasional boil-over for weeks or even months.
Somewhere or other Tish had a story that resonated with this pattern of mine… ah, here it is, it’s on her holiday Blogspot blog:
The young man was desperate to convince the young women that he was not a racist. They were beyond accepting that.
In his urgency to convince them he kept moving across the room toward them. And finally I said, “You know, whether or not you understand why, these women have fear in their bodies because of what you have written. You need to sit down and wait for them to feel safe.” This was a very thin, medium height fellow. He was not a threat, physically. And what he was written was so dumb it was hard to take seriously. But the women had taken him seriously. And they needed to have their feelings be the more important truth. He just needed to say he was sorry. And wait.
This is just another example of the “Tish bling” phenomenon. I can’t articulate or illustrate something no matter how much verbiage I throw at it, Tish does, bling goes the “Yeah, that’s it” sensor. How does she do that?
When I’m righteously pissed, I need to hear, “Gee. You’re righteously pissed. That’s too bad. I’m sorry.” I know that sounds bloody stupid, but it’s the truth.
Obviously the above reaction is not exactly common in the blogsphere as a reaction to another blogger’s anger. If you get the impression that I think it ought to be commoner—well, yeah.
The worst thing about this is that even my worst simmer-and-boil mode never lasts forever—but the bad impression I cause with my inadequate coping mechanisms often does.
And if you get the impression that the above is me apologizing for behaving like a big jerk—well, yeah. It is. I’m truly sorry.