It’s been 2 years. Two years since I last spoke to you, since you said the things you said to me. What exactly did you say to me? Oh yeah, I remember. You told me that I was immature and rude. Why did you call me that?
Because I set a boundary about my own life.
You asked a question I didn’t want to answer. I brushed it off and changed the topic. That was a clear sign that should have said, “I don’t want to talk about this with you.” But you kept pushing. Suddenly, I hear your voice saying, “Oh, well, after thinking about the conversation from the other day, I realized this.”
Babe, tell me: what conversation about that topic did we have?
Because I didn’t answer any questions about it, you knew that and wanted to find out more. So you went back in.
And when I finally spoke my truth and let you hear my side, you didn’t like what you heard. Instead of sitting with it, you came after me for it.
Silence always has been – and always will be – the loudest answer to a question. For some reason, you disagree with that. You made your opinion on that loud and clear.
My question is, why do you need to know? Why are you so desperate to know?
I understand that you asked the first time around. Sure, you’re curious and want to know. Go ahead, ask away. But just because you asked doesn’t mean I’m required to give you an answer about my personal life.
You can be my mother, father, boss, or next-door neighbor’s cousin. I don’t have to give you an answer about anything you ask me about my life if I don’t want to.
Let’s face it: you didn’t want to know out of the kindness of your heart. If that were the case, you would have respected my silence. Instead, you wanted to have the information in your back pocket. You wanted it so that, when my name came up in conversation, you could tell it to whoever you wanted to.
Well, my life isn’t yours to gossip about and pass judgment on. Go watch reality TV if you want to watch the chaos in someone’s life.
So go ahead, tell people what I did to you. Make them see you through the rose-colored glasses that you always tell them to put on before they speak to you. Tell them I have you blocked. Tell them I was rude and immature, that I haven’t spoken to you in 2 years. Tell them everything you want to tell them. Go for it.
The silence that you claim was confusing and rude – the silence I chose instead of losing my mind on you – will always show the class I have within me. The self-control and maturity I had in that moment are something I will always be proud of.
You think I’m rude and immature because I chose not to share my private life with you, and you blew up on me for it. Remind me again, who’s the immature one?
Oh yeah. Me.
Featured image via Олег Мороз on Unsplash
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