You Make My Hair Hurt

Recently a blogger I thought I was having a spirited discussion with let me in on exactly how my insistent questions were making her feel: "Drop it already. Christ, you make my hair hurt sometimes."

I've probably talked about this effect that I can have on people before, but it's still something that stays with me, a problem that occurs again and again, and as such is something I've flagged as 'need to work on' in myself. This isn't easy.

Identity
Part of why this stuff is hard for me is because of how I see myself. Part of what feels integral to my personality is that I like to ask questions. I like this about myself. Not only does it give me a lot of pleasure, but I think it's a good way to go about life, inquiring, seeking knowledge, all that good stuff. If somebody were to ask me what I like about myself, the fact that I like to investigate 'stuff'--that I'm curious, and not shy (generally) about asking questions would be somewhere at the top of my list.

But when my questioning frustrates other people, then I begin to question (paging Dr. Irony) my motives. On the less drastic side of things, asking questions can be a way of avoiding talking about oneself. More importantly, asking questions can be a way of wielding power and privelege. "I get to ask the questions around here!" is a power-claiming sort of thing for good reasons.

So, the process of understanding if my motives and actions are good (for me, for others) in this regard can be pretty painful, to the extent that I see myself as 'a questioner' who might have to give up on some of his questioning--if my motives aren't good ones. Which makes me think that I'll have to adjust my identity--not a fun prospect in some ways.

I Don't Want to Talk About This Anymore
No matter how close you are to me, it's unlikely that you'll here the above phrase from me at all, ever. I just don't feel this way very often, and among the times I do feel this way, I'm not very likely to listen to those feelings. My general tendency in my life is to keep talking, keep asking.

And yet, even I have my limits. Sometimes, when I'm with people who know a lot more about something than I do, I feel this way more often. There's only so much learning I can do before my brain feels full and I'd like to move on. Talking with one of my old profs was this way sometimes; we'd talk philosophy for 3 hours, and I'd start to make little jokes to extricate myself from that particular conversation, to try to talk about something else, and she would not pick up on (or chose to ignore) those little jokes. I can only talk shop for so long before I begin to be overwhelmed. Generally it's not that I'm no longer interested in the conversation--often I am very interested--or bored or some such; it's just that my brain can't take any more inquiry. I need some cold media, or to just sit and not think for a little while.

I've felt this way around just a few other people in my life, and only for brief periods of time. That's part of what makes the fact that I have gotten this sentiment from other people enough times makes me feel like there's something I'm doing wrong.

Entitlement
I think part of what's going on here is that I tend to keep going, even when other people are 'done' talking with me, because of a sense of entitlement that I have. There's just no denying that this must play some part in what's going on. I expect people to respond to me, and to respond to me in the ways I would like--when they don't, I get confused and, sometimes, frustrated. And when the context is something along the lines of my conversation with zuzu, quoted above, where I am trying to understand something she said on her blog--I'm in her space--I'm sure I don't read signals quickly enough. I tend to not quickly enough question whether or not I ought to continue to question.

Caring
Another aspect, though, is that I see the process of answering my questions (and asking questions of yer own) as a loving act. When people want to keep having conversations with me, I get a feeling that they get me, that they feel I'm worth it. Clearly, when somebody says drop it, they no longer feel I'm worth it. But the other side of this coin is that I ought to more often note that the people in my life who do listen and ask questions and answer my own questions--they do get me, they do care. The people who more often tell me that I'm not worth the thinking, they just don't care as much.

Do Not Block the Road to Inquiry
So what do I do? When I think something is worth asking about, but I've clearly been told that another person doesn't want to talk about it any longer, what are my options? Well, when I'm clearly told, I don't have many options...I have to back off, my questions unanswered by that person at that time. Seems like no big deal; to some people it probably isn't. But for me it's a big deal, because I go along with William James and Charles Pierce with the notion that 'the only sin is to block the road to inquiry'. Not that I believe in sin. But I do believe that once you say, "I don't want to talk about it any longer," there's a chance that you're avoiding the discussion because you don't want to deal with what may come out of the discussion. Of course there's a chance that you're simply protecting yourself (i.e. if you feel you're being unfairly attacked) or just being practical (we don't have an infinite amount of time to answer the questions of others).

Still, even if I believe that zuzu has my position wrong, that I wasn't clear enough and she's not giving me a very courteous reading or whatever, I back off now, because she asked me to. I write in my own blog, in my own space and not hers, because she explicitly asked me to leave her space. Because I am *not* entitled to her answers (or even to her reading my questions, really). There is a danger here, too, though--at some point, somebody may tell me they don't want to talk about it anymore as a bully tactic. Bush Jr. doesn't like discussing Iraq very much, and when he shuts down conversation about that topic, I think we ought to still ask questions--just as a for-instance. When is it a bully tactic and when is it just frustration? Well, in general in my personal life, it's probably just frustration. And yet...there has to be give and take here as well--over the long term, anybody involved needs to agree as to when things stop and when they don't. It's tough water to navigate, because either side (the questioner or the questioned) can be the bully, really.

Filed under:Therapy