Living Inside Our Own Minds

There's a thought I have in my head that I've been trying to flesh out in the last few days that I wanted to share with you. Quite a few people in this world, myself included, seem to be living very much apart from others, stuck inside their own heads. I don't mean we're all off in la-la land, daydreaming about winning the lottery, or that sexy coworker, or whatever it is people fantasize about. What I mean is, we all seem to have created a little bubble around ourselves, and regardless of what interactions we have with other people, we tend to stay within the confines of our barriers. We think we know our neighbors, our coworkers, even our own family members, but how much of our "knowledge" is what they really are, and how much of it is based on nothing more than conjecture on our part?

I'll try to clarify with an example. I have been married to my husband for eight years. Before that, we dated for two years, and before that we were classmates and friends for about a year. That makes approximately eleven years that I have interacted with this man on some level or another, yet he continually eludes me when I try to pin him down. I was completely taken by surprise when he told me that he cried the day our daughter was born, because he was proud of me. I never in a lifetime would have expected him to feel that way, let alone shed a tear over it. Another time, I mentioned how in tune he seemed to be with his body. He replied, "Must be the meditation." I then said, "You meditate?!" I have lived with this man for eight years, and I did not know this. I guess I assumed just because I'd never walked in on him in the lotus position, it was something he didn't do. And these are just two examples of hundreds of times I've been taken aback by the depth and complexity of my own husband.

Why? Why didn't I know this about the man that provides for me, that sleeps next to me each night, that helped me create my precious little girl? Much to my dismay, it's because I'm too wrapped up in my own little world to truly see him for what he is. I take him for granted. In my mind, he's the guy who's going through a phase with his crazy, mountain man facial hair; he's the guy who always wants to share what he did on the toilet that day (much to my chagrin); he's the guy who seems to think sexist jokes are a turn-on for me; he's the guy who nods when I talk about my craft projects, but doesn't really care. I paint a two-dimensional picture in my head of what he is, and I imagine that this image is all-encompassing. I'm so wrapped up in my own thoughts, hopes, fears, and ambitions that I actually forget that he is also a human being with thoughts, hopes, fears, and ambitions all his own. It is bad enough that I would dehumanize any person that way, let alone my own husband. Yet I do it over and over again.

I am not the only one. Since I noticed this behavior in myself, I have also observed it in others - people stripping away at the layers of others, and leaving a flimsy, paper-doll effigy in their stead. I wouldn't believe it an exaggeration to say that everyone has done this to someone they know. Why? Part of it is in our nature, I believe. Our brains desire to make sense of the world, and as such, we draw conclusions and make sweeping generalizations about those around us, just so we can file them away in the "understood" category of our minds. What ends up happening in our scramble to understand is that we shed the bits information our brains deem unimportant to the larger picture. We then fill in the blanks with things from our own experiences and preconceived notions. So when Amy knocks at our door, our brain registers that it's "Amy, the crazy vegan," instead of "Amy, the girl who's passionate about preventing cruelty to animals and supporting local economies, so she carefully researched agribusiness corruption; veganism; and local farmers specializing in vegan-friendly produce so that she can better uphold her principles." See? That second-part is a mouthful, but it makes Amy more interesting, even to the point where you may not agree with her, but at least you respect her choices.

So how do we fix this problem of glossing over the people we interact with? Practice. We can pull ourselves out of the bubbles of our own minds if we practice sympathy on a regular basis. We should start seeing people as people again, not as puppets in the plays of our lives. Let's think about how we would feel if others were treating us the way we've been treating them. And let's give them a break, for crying out loud! People make mistakes. Instead of picking them apart, let's let it go. Perhaps the next time we slip up, others will be more forgiving as well.