“It is pointless to believe what you see
if you only see what you believe.”
— Marie Lu

We were all children once, children who gallantly morphed into adults. And in our new adult outer-shells, we became teachers and walking examples with purpose. Did we, perhaps, grow up too fast? Did we, perhaps, not mature correctly?

In this article, I wish to tell you about an acquaintance who I feel didn’t mature the right way. I make this brave assessment from the way her story ended. I believe that due to stubbornness, she set herself up for a joyless end.

***

I begin by telling you about something I know.

I come from a big family where arguing was a daily occurrence. Apologizing, on the other hand, was a rarity. Today I want you to trust me as I ‘show’ you what a siblings-apologizing-to-each-other-scene ‘sounds’ like.

“You first.”

“No, you go first.”

“Nah, ah. You first because you started it.”

“But it was you who exploded like that…”

Bullheaded…Stubbornness… how embarrassing!
How did we learn to do that?

Glib. Pointless. Petty and pedantic.
Thank goodness my siblings, and I got some sense drilled into us by teachers and parents who were strict.

As is expected, once we outgrow our childish ways, the things we look at and argue over manifest as mature reasoning. Right? Well, yeah, they should. But…

If our actions don’t embody maturity, how do we figure out what holds us back? And how do we go about setting things right?

Dr. Thomas Sowell has this to say:

“How are children supposed to learn to act like adults, when so much of what they see on television shows adults acting like children?” ~ Thomas Sowell

Yeah, there’s culture and television, and then there’s pointless stubbornness.

How many times do we wait and hurt our relationships with each other, expecting the other person to reach out and apologize or be the first one to give in because, after all, it was the other person who brought disaccord?

“Immature people always try to win
an argument, even at the cost of a relationship.
Mature people prefer relationship
over an argument.”  ~ Annon

Now, let me tell you the rest of the story. 

I bumped into an old acquaintance in town the other day. After exchanging a few pleasantries, I complimented her on the beautiful ring she wore.

“Yeah,” she said, accepting my compliment. And I noticed how she spent a few good seconds with her eyes focused on her diamond ring as if counting its sides. Smiling down at it and shaking her hand slightly to reflect its sparkle, “Yeah,”  she repeated.

Sensing there was more to that precious ring, which had most likely come from her late husband whom she had put to rest two years prior, I asked how she was doing.

To that, she replied that she was doing very well.

Not having much more to talk to her about, I asked about her adult son. At that, the hand of her ring-finger flew to her side, and her expression went sour.

“That infidel,” she spat. And she proceeded to tell me that she hadn’t spoken to the infidel since her husband died.

I nodded slowly, which she probably took as a sign that I wanted her to tell me more. So, skipping the particulars, she added that it was due to an incident that happened when her son and his wife came for the funeral services and stayed the whole week to keep her company.

“Why don’t you call him?” I asked. “He’s family. Reach out.”

“I will not,” she huffed, folding her arms. “He’s the one who should apologize, and until he does, I will not talk to him.”

To me, her argument sounded immature, like the “You first. No, you first…” at the opening of this article. But it was not my place to say more.

The last thing she told me was that she would take that hurt to the grave, hoping to make her only son regret not calling her with an apology.

I was shocked at how bullheaded she was and wondered how she came to be that way. I refrained from saying more because that day, all she probably needed was for someone to act as a receptible for some of the hurt she needed to discharge. That day she discharged it on me.

A few awkward seconds ensued before I patted her on the shoulder and drew her in close, saying, “Take care. I trust you know best what to do. Goodbye.”

I sent up a prayer for her and her son that night.

***

A few days later, I heard a little about the details of her hurt from a mutual friend. Her diamond ring had gone missing that fateful week of her husband’s funeral, and she blamed the daughter-in-law. Her son had stood up for his wife, and the young couple left resentful and hurt at his mother’s accusation.

The week following the son’s departure, this acquaintance of mine who wasn’t in very good health found the precious ring in the pocket of an apron.

As you can see, she was the erroneous one in the situation, yet she still felt it should be her son who reached out first.
Why? Because she’s the mother? Because her grief was bigger than her son’s? Because he embarrassed her in front of his wife?

Whenever we hold resentment and anger, what we’re doing is turning small stuff into big stuff in our minds.

Failing to realize that it’s taking a big bite out of our joy of living; stubbornly believing that our position in the relationship is what’s important sabotages us further still.

Losing that ring might have seemed to her like a big loss, but really that is small stuff when compared with the relationship she should have nurtured with her son.

• She was wrong.
• She was unhappy and miserable.
• Angry at him for not calling her to see how she was.
• In her mind, she was the one who deserved pity and respect.

The saddest part is that hardly a month after bumping up with her, that acquaintance passed away in her sleep. And true to her word, she took that hurt to her grave, never calling her son to heal and patch up their relationship. A pitiful way to go.

The takeaways:

• We can see who was wrong, but that is not the point.
• Letting go of a desire to be right at all costs is unhealthy and sets one up for heartbreak.
• The way to be peaceful is to let go of this mindset and be the first to reach out.

Sometimes it pays to let the other person be right. Because you know what, that doesn’t mean that you are wrong.

What will happen when you just let go is that you will feel the joy of letting others be right. And the other person will become peaceful, less defensive, and more loving.

And if they don’t, that’s okay as well. What you’ll take out of this is the inner satisfaction you did your part; that you’re no longer a stinking dead fish– Life is a series of struggles and lulls. And, more importantly, you’ll undoubtedly become more peaceful.

“What you think, you become.
What you feel, you attract.
What you imagine, you create.” ~ Buddha

It’s not fair to blame our childhood upbringing for the immature ways we behave sometimes. After we leave the nest, we should still make room to grow as adults and nurture our relationships.

We were all children who gallantly morphed into adult bodies. Let’s try to be the kind of adults who are not so full of ourselves that we pine away in loneliness and joylessness like the acquaintance I mention here. Let’s be adults who cherish the relationships we have and can readily own up to our mistakes.

Let’s stop hurting ourselves, expecting the other person to reach out and apologize or be the first one to give in. Let’s stop being so stubborn and try to be more proactive to help foster healing. A joyful life starts with us.

Mother and son – Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay
Apron, Photo by Isabela Kronemberger on Unsplash

THANKS FOR READING.
I Wish You Miracles.