contrary
asking for what we need
I used to think I was avoidantly attached in friendships. I believed social commitments were a drain on my energy and preferred friends who demanded little of me. See how fraught that language is? Demands. It assumes a one-way street. Back then, I could only see two options: capitulate to someone else’s needs or avoid engaging.
Social commitments are only a drain if we don’t feel comfortable asking for what we need. Let’s say you’re getting dinner with a friend, and at the end of the meal, you feel satisfied and want to go home. But she wants to get a drink somewhere and continue the conversation. If this were me a few years ago, I would not have been able to say no. I would’ve felt obligated to keep the connection alive, even if I was tired and didn’t want to continue socializing.
I think this way of operating stemmed from two guiding misbeliefs: (1) social connection is an absolute good; not wanting it is shameful, and (2) friendships can only be positively reinforcing and affirming: if I assert a point-of-view that differs from my friend’s, it’s going to create disharmony or cause irrevocable damage to the relationship. What if she thinks I don’t like spending time with her or I’m being selfish? I was projecting my own self-judgment onto my friend because I hadn’t yet learned to recognize and respect my own needs and to effectively communicate them.
A friendship should support us as a whole person, not just who we are at our most social and amenable. One measure of the strength of a friendship is how comfortable you feel saying “no” and giving an honest reason. The best friendships are the ones where you can relax into who you are without worrying about how you’re going to be perceived. You can ask for what you need in the moment. You can be contrary.
Communicating “why” we need something is such a useful and underrated skill. If someone at work asks me to do something tedious, I’m going to feel annoyed and drag my feet. But if they tell me why they need me to do this—why it’s important to them, personally—they are bringing me along on their journey. I’m much more inclined to help when I can appreciate their purpose.
Understanding a person’s “why” goes a long way to building trust. I mean this both in a basic, mundane sense (see work example) and in the grander sense of one’s purpose in life à la Simon Sinek. We have an incredible capacity to bridge differences when we understand the other person’s desires and what drives them. We connect to motivation, not facts. Plot, not story.
In reading fiction, I can get in touch with feelings and longings I may have ignored or suppressed in my waking hours. I can experience a whole range of emotions without fear of judgment or social consequences. I love how bibliotherapist Emely Rumble puts it on the Book Riot podcast:
I can experience my jealousy, my rage, my fear, my hatred while I’m reading, and it doesn’t necessarily say anything about me as a person. Nobody is reading the thoughts going through my mind thinking, oh you’re such a bad person for having that thought or feeling that thing. We can just be our full selves, and I think there’s an authenticity that comes when we’re reading.
While traveling with a friend in Turkey two summers ago, we got into an argument about halloumi. Of course, it wasn’t just about halloumi. The problem was I felt like she had to contradict me all the time. It got to a point where I didn’t feel comfortable stating an opinion because there was a good chance she would disagree.
Me: “The halloumi’s a little too salty.”
Her: “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
Me: “I’m just saying it tastes salty to me.”
Her: “But when you buy halloumi at Whole Foods and look at the ingredient label…”
I told her she had this tendency to disagree about trivial things, which put me on edge. She wasn’t aware of her behavior and speculated about why she might be doing it (my theory: she’s an engineer).
Her unfiltered ability to express exactly what was on her mind forced an open and honest conversation that helped us understand each other better. We now have a language for expressing what we need and why.
There’s so much masking that happens in social interactions. No wonder it can feel draining. We’re expending energy performing and maintaining harmony at all costs. I’m not sure it’s desirable to shed every layer of pretense, but I do believe we can get closer to our authentic selves and form deeper friendships when we understand our own needs and honor them in how we show up. Being a little disagreeable isn’t the worst thing you can do.