A lot of us feel misunderstood. Some of us feel hard done by. Society just doesn’t get us. Our friends and family don’t get us. Our priests and rabbis don’t get us. Our shrinks don’t get us. Our partners don’t get us. Our boss… our teacher…
The list goes on…
I know that I certainly have felt that way and still do every now and then.
But when you think about it, most of us do not fully understand ourselves so why should we expect others to? Only God has complete knowledge.
So when I see people ranting and raving about how misunderstood they are, I honesty have to think… GROW UP!
Children want to be understood. Adults seek to understand others.
True, it would be nice if we were all considerate and did our best to reach mutual understanding. But the reality is, most of us will always be misunderstood. Some people, imo, are at a certain level or place that just makes it impossible for them to understand us and what we do.
So I creep, yeah, ’cause he doesn’t know what I do
They just don’t have it and probably never will.
That’s the way it goes.
So are we going to waste our lives lamenting that we are not understood or are we going to be more proactive and try to understand them?
I find that trying to understand others takes me out of my own shell and actually improves my mental state immeasurably. There’s no better way to get out of a funk than to stop being so damned egotistical.
The world isn’t about me.
And it’s not about you either.
It’s about all of us.
So yes, it would be nice if we could all meet each other halfway. But in reality, that often does not happen. That lout of a husband may never understand the subtle complexities of his wife, just as that wife may never fully understand her husband’s needs.
So my advice is that we get out of our shells and start considering others. Where are they coming from? Why are they being such jerks?
Sure, certain people vex me, especially those creeps who violate my online privacy. But if I ask, “Why do they behave like such scumbags?” then I can contemplate what might be behind it.
An abusive father?
Maybe even early sexual abuse?
Growing up in dire poverty in some hellhole country?
Or perhaps some people are just born with “bad karma” and no matter what they do or how they were raised will change that.
I really don’t know.
But I do know that trying to understand them – and even harder, love them – does lift me out of my own concerns into a much broader and happier world than one of mere self-absorption.
And the funny thing is, if we really try to understand others, chances are they will feel the love and try to understand us.