"I'm Feeling Used."

"A member of my home group only ever calls when she wants a favour, and I'm feeling used.  I feel guilty if I say no, and anyway, a family member of hers only just passed. Any ideas?"

As a recovering rampant people-pleaser myself, this rings a chord with me. I've spent many hours helping people I wasn't even sure I liked, do things which bored me senseless, ate up my time off, and left me seething with silent resentment and frustration. Before Al-Anon, I was a profoundly conflicted person - the inner "true me," at war with the outer facade. I carried that facade like a shield held out in front of me, in the erroneous belief that it effectively hid my feelings. I hadn't an inkling that my anger was easily discernible, and I was a champion sulker.

I was in Al-Anon for quite a few years before I began to understand that I agreed to favours I didn't want to do, not because at heart I was a "nice person," but from fear. I was afraid that were I to refuse, I would spark someone's anger, be disliked or rejected. I had no understanding of what was reasonable for another person to ask of me, and no concept of appropriate behavior.

If I was trying to reason this out, I'd break it down into 3 separate areas:

1. I feel used.
2. I feel guilty when I say no.
3. I think I should agree, because this person has just suffered a personal loss.

1. Is this person trying to take advantage of me? How many times has she called to ask me to do her a favour? Once, twice. a dozen? Does she ever call me to talk, or is there always a request that I do something?
Am I feeling resentful about something else in our relationship, and this is how it's manifesting itself, or is the relationship consisting entirely of favours asked and granted?
Have I said to this person, "Call me if you need anything" and now that she's taken me at my word, and calling, I'm wishing I hadn't extended that promise of help? Perhaps I need to be more careful in saying that sort of thing, if I don't really mean it.

I've had to learn to sit on my hands, and keep my mouth firmly closed, so that I don't volunteer to do whatever it is, from unhealthy motives. I want to offer from a sincere desire to help.

2. Am I feeling guilty because I believe that I "should" want to help, and I don't? Do I believe that if I don't want to help, this makes me a bad person? Am I putting the other person's needs above my own, and then resenting them for my  choices?

I was raised in a family culture steeped in guilt; it was used to modify behavior, and motivate choices. In Al-Anon, I have learned that I can live with a little bit of residual guilt. What I don't want to live with, is the resentment I feel when I allow guilt to make my choices for me.

3. Does a personal loss make someone more deserving of help?  The death of a loved one is a massive earthquake - it rocks us to our foundations, shatters our feelings of safety, and changes our personal landscape in ways no-one who hasn't experienced it can imagine.
Any support, shoring up, reinforcement and help we receive, is a powerful statement of love, and one much needed at that time.

I believe it's acceptable to loosen our boundaries a bit in the area of favours asked and granted, to allow us to help out someone who is grieving. If we've had serious difficulties with boundaries with this person in the past, have finally established some that seem to be holding, and now fear they will collapse, and we won't be able to get them up again, that's a different matter.

We need to do what is going to work best for us. If we can't, we can't. Let go of our concerns about what other people will think of us, and turn it over to our Higher Power.

I need to be clear that "I don't want to do this" is a good enough reason, and I also  need to be sure that I can live comfortably with whatever choices I make.

I pray to be loving, without becoming a doormat. I pray to find it within me to give what I can, and accept when I can't, without lashing myself for my perceived inadequacies.

Admitting Our Imperfections.

Why is this so hard for most of us? Why do we kick and scream, (or if you have a different personality, sulk and emit poisonous waves of sullenness) when it's suggested to us in Al-Anon, that we too, are imperfect, and that we can improve our lives greatly by trying to do something about that fact, rather than change someone else?

I used to worry about the way other people would think about me, if I ever admitted to being wrong, or being weak, or being imperfect. My sponsor called me up one day, laughing; told me she'd just come across the perfect quotation for us, which we should write out and put up somewhere we could read it many times in a day:

"You wouldn't worry so much about what other people think of you, if you knew how seldom they did."

I, of course was deeply offended, but tried to pretend that I wasn't. I'd learned fairly quickly that although my sponsor was a woman who had enormous empathy for other's sufferings, she had little patience for me, when I was having a hissy fit, and being offended. She was well-acquainted with that defense mechanism, having used it herself for years. She'd pointed out to me that when she was offended, it was usually because she knew that what had been said was the truth, and she didn't want to face it. She suggested that next time, I try putting aside my desire to take offense, and work to be honest with myself - was I being offered a chance to see myself more clearly?

Most of the time, that's just what's happening: I only ever seem to feel upset in that precise way, unless I am recognising the truth about myself: my character, and habits of thinking. When, in the past, I've chosen to take offense, it has been an effective way to push that truth aside, and concentrate instead on the failings of the messenger - so rude! So tactless! etc etc, and after a while, I'd be wallowing in a stew of self-righteous indignation, and the chance for me to learn and grow, would pass on by, forgotten.

This week, I was finding it increasingly difficult not to worry and stress over an issue in my life. My present sponsor, is a wise woman with many years in program, and when I talk to her about something with which I'm wrestling, she always emphasises asking my Higher Power for guidance. When I did, the guidance came in the form of a realisation about a decision I'd made a while ago. I was granted the ability to see it from another angle, to realise that while some of the reasons behind it were healthy - not enabling, not allowing the other person to take advantage of me - another part of the motivation for that decision was a desire to punish by withdrawing my support.  I realised that I needed to make an amend.

That wasn't an easy amend to make, because in order to do it cleanly, I needed to admit to my less-than-delightful motives. I had to say, "I was wrong to do this, and this is why."

I've been in Al-Anon for quite a while, and there are still amends which curl my teeth to make, because I have to admit my lesser qualities. I will always have to admit to my lesser qualities, because I will always be imperfect.

Once the amend had been made, and we were talking about it, I was given the further realisation that on some level, I'd been uncomfortable with my decision from the start, but had been refusing to allow that discomfort headroom, because if I did, I might have to reconsider.

For me, when I admit my imperfections, it is always better afterwards. That "better" can range from the lightly giddy feeling of a clean conscience, to improved intimacy with whomever, to doors opening in my life. There is no downside to this that I've ever found, so why do I still occasionally find it difficult?

I think because of pride - I don't want to admit that I am still prompted by those imperfections, that there are going to be times when my decisions are made while I'm in the grip of my frailties and character defects. I want to be "all better now."
I can forgive other people their character defects, but I still judge myself for mine,
now and then.
So it goes. The sun is shining, and I'm feeling relieved.

Why I Do The Things I Do - Motives.

"What would be your motive, were you to say that?"

A question my first sponsor used on me, and which I now use, with great glee thoughtfulness, on my sponsees. When I was new to program, that question was guaranteed to bring me to a screeching halt - tires smoking, long line of black rubber on the road behind me.

I understood the question, but I also didn't understand it. I had good language comprehension, but emotional comprehension? None at all. I would be in the strange position of having a clear picture of what was being asked of me, and no way to reply. I hadn't a clue where I could begin to search for an answer, because my motives were well hidden in the hoarder's house of my brain.

I like that analogy for several reasons, not least of which that I had a tendency (A "tendency," ha! Slight understatement there, dear reader.) to scorekeep. I could not let go of anything; on the contrary, I was always on the hunt for more evidence to add to my stash of "Look at what they did, it's only natural that I would ___!"
Any slight, insult, unkindness, emotional/verbal/physical abuse ever perpetrated against me, which I was old enough to remember, and all of those  which the memory retains, but over which it draws a curtain, (so that we may continue to function, albeit not very smoothly) were in that house of self. 

Somewhere. Buried under mountains of unidentifiable, dust-covered, mouse poop decorated - all right, all right, enough of this analogy, what's my point here?

I couldn't let go of any trespass against me. I couldn't forgive or forget, and because of that, my motives were poisoned by my resentment. I acted and spoke to "get back" at the alcoholic, and every miserable rotten person in my life who had hurt me. The drinking alcoholic became a symbol, a representative of that group. I knew that when he was in his cups, I could say anything I pleased, no matter how viciously cruel, and not have to pay the price for saying it. He was in blackout - his memory would not retain it.

When I did a Step Five with him about this, much later on, after we'd divorced and been apart for quite some time, I wept and shook with pain, fear and sorrow. He reached across the table and grasped my hands: his own were shaking: tears were streaming down his face, too. In that moment, I saw in the still-drinking alcoholic wreck before me, the man I had loved and married so many years before. I am so grateful to program, for giving me the ability and willingness to make that amend, to make my peace with him, to go on in my life with no unfinished business from that relationship.

Before Al-Anon, I was not in the habit of digging down to find my motives. They were a deep and dark mystery of self, and I feared them, if I considered them at all. In Al-Anon, I have learned that if I do not deal with my resentments, they will begin to poison the ground water, and I'll start to suffer from strange ailments, such as being "irritable and unreasonable" or restlessness, perhaps a feeling of being trapped by circumstance.  All those awful feelings, and the insane thinking which once ruled me, will once again begin to stir if I do not work my program every single blessed day, whether I wish to, or do not.

If I want to be able to answer questions from myself, or anyone else, about my motives, with something other than an abashed and shame-filled hesitance, I have to work my program. It's that simple.

What's My Obligation Here?

Yesterday the neighbour's dog appeared in our back yard - he'd somehow escaped his fences, and was free to roam. He was perfectly willing to let me pet him, but the moment I appeared with a leash, he began to play that dog game of: "Yeah ok, I'll let you put that on me ... but maybe not!"

He'd leap sideways at the last moment, then strike that silly dog pose where they crouch with the front end, and elevate the back end - coupled with his goofy expression, it made me laugh. The more I laughed, the better he liked it - at one point he came over and gently shoulder-checked my leg, and it was just like a human being nudging with an elbow. I found it entertaining rather than frustrating, because he's such a big ol' happy dog, and he was having so much fun evading the leash.

I decided another approach might be more useful, and asked him: "Want a cookie?"

He snapped to attention, and came right over, to begin nuzzling my hands and my pockets, looking for it. When I didn't have one, he did the canine equivalent of a shrug and went off to sniff the grass.

Long story short, I got him into my car by showing him the cookie, and tossing it into the back seat. He leapt in after it, I closed the door, and I had him. I drove him home, and the people next door to his owner took him in, as the owner was out at the time.

Later, I was talking to someone about it, and was told, "I'd have taken him to the SPCA!"

"I knew where he lived," I protested. "I see him every day."

"I don't think they walk him enough, I'd have taken him to the SPCA."

It got me thinking, because when I was much younger, if I'd thought they didn't walk him enough, I'd have taken him to the SPCA, too. Back then, I was much more certain not only that my opinions were correct, but that I had the right to act upon them however I chose.

I don't have that certainty anymore. The wisdom of Al-Anon, and perhaps of middle age, has tempered my thinking. In order to take the dog to the SPCA and turn him over, I'd have had to lie. Many times. I'd have had to lie that I didn't know where he lived, that I'd tried to find his owners, yada yada yada. The entire enterprise would be one of deception on my part, and I'm not willing to do that.

If I thought he was being mistreated, I'd have contacted the relevant authorities to get him some help, as soon as I'd realised it, back when we first moved into this house, months ago.

Yes, I wish they'd walk him more often, but he has a huge yard in which to roam, a very nice doghouse, and when I see him with his family, he is the same bouncy creature he was in my yard. He shows no signs of fear or caution, as he would were he being abused.

It's not up to me to be deciding for someone else, how often they should walk their dog. If I saw signs of abuse, I'd do my utmost to get him help - I adore dogs. But I can't take him to the SPCA and tell a pack of untruths because they don't fit my concept of "ideal dog owners."  I saw my obligation to be: catch him, was I able, and take him safely home. That's where my responsibility ends.

Life is much more peaceful when I keep my hands in my own pockets, and don't try to change the people and the world around me, to suit my thinking. I cannot achieve that end, so why waste energy trying? I'd rather save my energy to do what I can do.

I'll never forget when we lived in a house in another town, several adult neighbours used to stop and talk when they met on the street, and they were always tut-tutting about a very nice border collie who lived her life on a chain alone in her back yard. It took a young girl to ask the owner if she could please walk the dog. She and the dog would head happily off down the street a couple of times a day. I loved that, it was such a perfect example of what really helps, and what doesn't.

You think a dog isn't being walked enough? Why not stop trashing the owner for his or her lack, and offer to walk the dog yourself, if you are truly concerned?

Privacy, Or Secrecy, And Why Does It Matter?

Those of us who have been in 12-Step for many years have seen a lot of people come for a while, and then fade away - they just can't make it past their personal sticking point.

Mine was the point at which I had to put down the victim mode, and pick up that suit of personal responsibility, which appeared to weigh 16,000 pounds and be made of pure lead.

A crusty old-timer in AA once said at a meeting, that what he considered his privacy was actually his secrecy, and keeping it almost killed him. I asked how could one tell the difference? He replied that if my ego started shrieking at the idea of sharing whatever it was, that was a good indicator it was secrecy. If I could think about it calmly and clearly, it was most likely a privacy issue.

Which sounds good, unless you happen to be a person like me, who can rationalise almost anything, given a half-hour alone, and whose worst deceptions of self have presented as an excellent idea at the time.

This is where a sponsor comes in handy, readers! One can pick the type that has an instant readout (raised eyebrow, disbelieving expression) or the type that waits until one has finished speaking to respond with many ego-soothing euphemistic embellishments of the central idea of: "Are you bonkers?". I had the former for my first sponsor, and the latter for my second.

I am grateful for both, and looking for a new sponsor in this new place we are living. I'm not rushing into my choice, but neither am I allowing myself to follow a vague plan of "Eventually, I'll get a sponsor..." because my ego is a slippery dog, and if not kept firmly in check, can wreak havoc in my life, in her charges for freedom.

I need a sponsor to help me hold the leash.

Anger, and Venting of Same.

There is one school of psychology which teaches that anger is tantamount to an emotional boil, and if we don't vent it, we will be slowly poisoned by its accumulation and spread.

I don't happen to agree with this. I believe that venting of anger is a taboo, and like most other taboos, breaking it the first time carries the greatest weight, and is likely to be accompanied by feelings of guilt.

If we continue to break it, time and again, it loses any power to inform our thinking or control our behavior. We move along the continuum, from remorse and shame at the start, through the doing of it for the satisfaction and power to manipulate, until eventually it becomes habitual.

People who are angry all the time are exhausting company - they require that we be always on guard, so as not to set them off. I had a girlfriend when I lived in the city, whose significant other was a ranter. He was a talented artist, but he was angry all the time, and felt no compunction about expressing his rage. Someone was always pissing him off. He loved to rant about the government - federal and local - that was one of his favourites, because there was so much scope.

He was vociferous in his descriptions of the manner in which other people had failed to meet his standards of conduct. He ranted about the annoying tendency of mechanical objects to break down, wear out, and require repair.

I used to sit in silent wincing while he harangued us, wondering if he thought we wanted to be battered by his opinions, or was he so caught up in the venting of his rage, that we were just acoustical elements in the room?

Anger is a feeling, it's not a right or an entitlement. Pumping our anger out with no regard to those around us is abusive. There is a vast gulf between discussing our anger, the reasons for it, and the healthy ways to deal with it, with our sponsor or a program friend, and just dumping it like a pot of boiling acid over whomever happens to be in the vicinity.

Step Six.

"Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character."

What does it mean for me, to be "entirely ready?"

First, I need awareness of my character defects, and I gained this through doing a 4th Step, and then paying careful attention to my internal dialogue, both in times of tranquillity, and in moments of exasperation.

A program friend uses the phrase: "the stories that we tell ourselves" to describe the way our character defects affect our thinking. When I'm agitated, what story am I telling myself? Does it cast me as victim and the other person as villain? How feasible is this, and how much more probable, that we each have a part in the troubles, but that I'd rather believe myself blameless, as that requires no effort or action on my part?

I must be willing to give up whatever gratification my character defects have allowed me, for a new approach to dealing with life, and new compensations.
I must be willing to hold up a hand to my ego, as it stands at the forefront of my mind exhorting and defending, and detach from my feelings, to view my choices with as much objectivity as I can muster. If I can't muster any, or very little, and my ego is still bellowing and ranting, then I need to pick up the phone and call a program friend to reason things out.

I tell my sponsees, "If the program friend you call does nothing but agree with your viewpoint, then you need to find another person to call at those times, because it may be satisfying to hear it, but that agreement only strengthens your misery by reinforcing your defenses."

When we are new to 12-Step, and we try to deal with our egos on our own, it's like going up against a sumo wrestler, after we've done nothing to prepare but a week of stretching exercises - no contest. Splat. Ding. Belt goes to the big guy in the thong.

I'm entirely ready when I'm frustrated at my own craziness, when my obsessive mind is chewing the same ground endlessly, smoke pouring from the machinery, rattling and shaking, parts flying off and nearly taking the dog's head off as they go zinging into the stratosphere, when I just cannot do it on my own.

I'm ready when I'm on my knees, unable to rise, completely exhausted and beaten down, not by the alcoholics or by life, but by my own habitual responses - my character defects.

Then, and only then, in my case, (obduracy being one of my character defects, which I have in abundance) was I able to consider choosing to try an alternate way of dealing with my life.

I was entirely ready. I had hoped this would be a permanent state, but in all honesty, I'd have to call it semi-permanent, because if I'm in HALT, I'm more likely to revert to old habits. But now I can catch myself doing so, forgive myself, and change my attitude.

From the ODAT, page 172:

"If am truly willing, I will see them replaced gradually by impulses of a different quality, that I can live with, comfortably free from self-reproach."

Isn't that a beautiful concept? Living "...comfortably free from self-reproach." I want that. That sounds like ... serenity.

Step Four.

"Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves."

When I came into Al-Anon, I was skilled at taking the inventory of everyone around me: friends, strangers, coworkers, neighbours, casual acquaintances. I did not, however, turn that beam upon myself - I was too afraid to do so, for fear of the ugliness I might find there.

I was a vessel filled to the brim with a nasty soup of fear and shame. Just let anyone suggest that my motives were less than pure, or that my attitude was not the best it could be, and they'd be met with a storm of righteous indignation, and defensiveness.

I couldn't admit to my faults and frailties because I didn't have the awareness of my merits and virtues to balance them out. My first sponsor started me working Step Four by listing my positive character aspects first, and only. I tried for days, and would end up sitting with my pen, an empty sheet of paper, and my own mind completely stonewalling me.

Then one night at my home group meeting, the chair wanted to try an exercise - at the top of a piece of paper, we were to write: "I like (our name) because:" pass this to the person sitting to our left, and accept the page being passed from the person to our right. When our own page arrived back to us, having made the circuit of the group, we were instructed to fold it up, and read it later on at home.

I saw writing on my page, but hurriedly shoved it into my pocket, and when I arrived home, couldn't read it. I was too afraid. I called my sponsor, and asked if she would sit on the phone with me while I opened and read it. She quickly agreed. I unfolded that piece of paper, and slowly read what 11 women, who had known me for a couple of years at that point, had written about why they liked me. It was all positive. There were comments about my empathy, my kindness, my generosity, my sense of humour, my infectious laugh, my thoughtfulness.

I had tears streaming down my face as I read. It was such a hugely powerful exercise for me to read that others could so easily find these positive aspects of my character, when I could find none.

That was the lever that made it possible for me to begin to work Step Four.

Taking my inventory became less an exercise in fear and trembling, and more an archeological dig - a search for knowledge which would help me to understand myself, my motives, and how I operate. I'm comfortable with the idea that I have human faults and frailties, because I'm also comfortable with the idea that I have positive characteristics. The more often I take my own inventory, the less able I feel to take anyone else's.

Alcoholic Thinking - and Our own Form of Insanity

When I was married to my first husband, I used to get involved in long, convoluted arguments with him, which would range over about 16 different topics, and always end up with me feeling awful, and the original topic being left unresolved.


He had the ability to draw me in every time - I'd get caught up in defending myself or trying to "correct" his thinking - I couldn't detach enough to realise what insanity it was to discuss anything with him while he was under the influence.

Al-Anon taught me to stop for a moment, and really think about what I was doing - was this going to lead to a resolution?
What was I trying to achieve with my part in the argument? How did I expect to get anywhere talking with a person who was so intoxicated that he was in blackout, and wouldn't remember seeing me when he came home, let alone remember an argument we'd had?

I have the choice to engage, or disengage, in all my daily encounters with other human beings. I can keep my core self protected from the opinions of others, so that I'm making choices based on my philosophy of life, and my morals, rather than to please (or impress) anyone else.

I can behave in a way that allows me to maintain my self-respect, without trampling other's boundaries.

I can stop to ask myself: Is this a mature and courteous way to behave, or am I giving myself permission to act childishly because I'm offended, or feel slighted?

(A program friend calls some of her past behavior "cringe-worthy.")

Is fear driving my response? What are my motives?

I tell my sponsees: If you wouldn't want to admit to the motives behind your choices in a situation, to a person you admire and respect, you might want to rethink them. It's a good touchstone.

What Are My Motives?

As "families and friends of alcoholics" we learn to become adept manipulators. We undertake to plan for all eventualities in the hopes of heading them off; we scheme and strive for control. Sneakily. Since most of us, on some inner level, realise that this manipulation is not an honest or forthright way to deal with other people, we drape it in long, involved rationalisations. We explain that we have only the alcoholic's best interests at heart, we are pure as the driven snow in that regard, and it simply makes sense for this to be this way, it isn't because we want it for ourselves, heavens no, we are selfless as a saint. We justifiy our own behavior with reasons multitudinous and inventive.

Most of us have become so hardened in these defensive positions, we are able to spout this chicanery, while wearing an expression of injured innocence. Rarely have I seen anyone leap to admit their own character defects - for most of us, it's a slow dawning, and we fight it every step of the way, whining in protest, and searching frantically for some other way out of the pit we have dug for ourselves.

When we do decide to face this reality, of our own controlling natures, it can be almost impossible to catch ourselves at it, because we've gotten so good at the rationalisations. How do we know when we are trying to control? I have two questions I ask of myself:

- What are my motives?
- What do I hope to accomplish by saying this?

Am I speaking in an attempt to exchange information, clarify my position, or state my feelings?

Or is this the first step in a circular maneuver, where I'm starting out at one side, and slowly working my way around to the other, pretending I'm only out for a casual stroll, all the while with a fixed destination in mind?

Examining my motives has become easier over the years, as I've seen the positive results of working my program this way. Newcomers may have to take this one on faith for a time, because human nature seems to be such, that we are far more skilled at self-deception, than honest self-examination.

That is why we are encouraged to get a sponsor, and to "reason things out with someone else." It's always easier to see where the other person is kidding themselves - our own rationalisations are things of beauty to our ears.

Anger, And Trust.

Untreated alcoholism destroys intimacy - it's that simple.

When we've been let down enough times, even the most co-dependent of us will lose trust in the drinker; restoring trust can be a mammoth undertaking. Some of us learn to live with a level of distrust which would appear psychotic to a person not in a relationship with an alcoholic. The alcoholic promises, and we smile, and nod, and agree, but to ourselves, mutter, "Right. That's likely."
Or worse, we believe them. We believe them, we put our faith in the event taking place, and when it doesn't, we are outraged and infuriated all over again - how dare they break their promise?
It can take a fair bit of "reasoning things out with someone else" to recognise our own patterns in this area, as they can be so deeply ingrained, we act them out almost by rote.

I've had a tendency to act out the following:
-decide I want the alcoholic to do a specific thing.
- approach them and ask if they will do this thing.
-meet their initial resistance with a dozen well-argued reasons why they should do this thing.(I've thought this all out ahead of time, they're only hearing it for the first time, so I'm at an advantage here.)
-extract a promise that they will do this thing, in fact, hound them until they agree.

Many of you will be able to see the outcome of this a mile away: they don't do it, I become angry.

Who is at fault? This depends who you ask, (and I'm not just joking around here, we can view this sort of encounter very differently, when we have some program time behind us.)

When I was new to Al-Anon, had I been presented with that scenario, I may have felt a touch of unease upon reaching the bit about hounding the alcoholic into agreement, but it would have seemed fairly clear to me that they bore sole responsibility.
 They made a promise and didn't keep it, right? Well, yes, that's true, but it was a promise extracted under duress.

When we aren't demonising the drinker, we can see that self-image and self-esteem are battered almost beyond recognition for them, and many are people-pleasers just as we are. Part of addiction is the inability to deal with conflict or stress - and we, as co-dependents, can be excellent manipulators.

I am a stubborn creature, and get me fixated on an outcome, and I will move heaven and earth to achieve it. This isn't a character defect unless I am using it for all the wrong reasons, such as getting my own way. When I am determined to get my own way, I am a freight train of "You should's" and "I want you to's" and I barrel over my alcoholics at full speed, and carry them along with me, on the cowcatcher. I know darn well they don't want to do whatever it is, and I think I also know darn well that they aren't going to do it, so just what am I playing at here?

I set myself up to be angry. I set myself up to carry an expectation which will result in disappointment, hurt feelings, and distress on both sides.

I need to be more honest about my part in this scenario - and be willing to take "no" for an answer. That's being respectful.