I’ve never been a particularly confrontational person. When faced with fight or flight conflict, I most often pick the lesser-known third option — shut down entirely. Rather than choose between two extremes, I do neither and instead nod benignly along to whoever is doing the fighting or wait it out until they fly. It’s been my go-to strategy for as long as I could remember. It doesn’t matter the context — whether I am getting scolded by my mother for leaving my childhood bedroom a mess or someone cuts me in line during the morning Starbucks rush — I do not engage.
A few weeks ago, I found myself faced with a situation that even I, queen of the non-reaction, could not stand to let slide. I was with a few friends at a crowded concert on the Downtown Mall, standing fairly close to the stage, when two freakishly tall teenagers stepped in front of our view. This alone was not enough to lead me to action — I simply chalked the situation up to an unfortunate risk of general admission concerts and that it really was not under anyone’s control. However, the near constant public displays of affection that they were demonstrating proved to be too much. Not only was I not able to see the band perform, but all I could see was two 16-year-old children enthusiastically attached at the mouths.
After simmering in the crowded venue for a solid 20 minutes, during which I was unable to see one of the band’s better-known songs performed, I boiled over. With some coaxing from my friends, neither of whom were particularly excited about getting involved, I tapped the boy on the shoulder. The two of them sprung apart like shrapnel, and I asked if they wouldn’t mind cooling it on the PDA for a few songs, or letting my friends and I move forward so that we could see better. Rather sheepishly, they let us slide past, free to enjoy the rest of the concert without their unique contributions.
I left the Downtown Mall riding an undeniable high, due in part from the music and the experience from our much-improved vantage point and from the admittedly not-so-groundbreaking realization that I could easily rectify a situation like this one by simply addressing it. For the rest of the week, I was thoroughly inspired. I politely asked if the girl whose classical music was audible through her headphones in Alderman if she wouldn’t mind turning it down. I politely excused myself from a fruitless conversation with an acquaintance so that I could finish an assignment I was working on. All the while, I was thinking to myself — “why haven’t I been doing this all along?”
Normally, in the interest of avoiding the unpleasantness of an argument, I most often choose to not engage in any kind of confrontation. By avoiding conflict with other people, I was creating so much more conflict within myself. Rather than simply taking a stance, I would instead stew over the issue for hours — or days — letting my annoyance turn into resentment or obsessing over what I could have done differently to avoid the need for an argument in the first place.
Realistically, I’m not always going to be able to say exactly what is on my mind. Various social rules dictate when I can and can’t engage in a conflict. Out of respect and in the interest of my grade, I can’t tell my professor that I am too busy to write the paper he has assigned me and that his class is not my priority. And in the interest of human decency, I can’t simply tell a friend that I think her problem is trivial, or that I think he is handling something all wrong. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t still healthier ways of addressing these issues than sitting around and thinking about how frustrated they make me.
There is a reason people developed the fight or flight instinct — both are more satisfying than ignoring the problem. The momentary discomfort of addressing something head-on is absolutely worth the relief I feel when I get it off my chest. So far I’ve been seeing more clearly, studying without interruption and spending a lot less time in my own head.
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