Why Do I Ignore My Discomfort Until I Get Angry?

Lisa J Buhman

Why Do I Ignore My Discomfort Until I Get Angry?

A friend of a friend showed up at our house one day, apparently thinking we should all be friends.

I didn't like him.

I didn't trust him.

I couldn't have told you exactly why.

My husband, on the other hand, likes everybody. The man apparently came without the stranger-danger upgrade. LOL.

They were outside talking for a while, and at some point I pulled my husband aside and told him I wasn't thrilled about our new visitor.

Then I went inside.

A little while later, I looked out the window and saw this guy going through tools we had stored in a van.

My husband was nowhere in sight.

Well, that's interesting.

I went outside, still trying to be friendly-ish, and asked him what he was doing.

He looked startled.

"Oh, I thought you wouldn't care. I'm friends with..."

I laughed—because apparently that's one of my favorite ways to set a boundary without actually admitting I'm setting a boundary—and said something along the lines of, "Let's go back over where you were."

My husband had gotten a work call and stepped away. Our visitor had apparently decided that was a good time to wander around.

Nothing terrible had happened.

But something had definitely happened.

The feeling I'd had when he arrived now had a little more information attached to it.

And Then He Did It Again

I told my husband what had happened.

His response was basically, "I'm sure he was just looking."

Maybe he was.

And unfortunately, instead of saying what I actually wanted to say, I kept being nice.

I stayed outside with them for a while, smiling, not saying much, and clenching my teeth.

If you've read much of what I write, you already know the teeth clenching should have been a clue. LOL.

Eventually, my husband and our visitor started doing something with a car. I had no clue what they were doing and absolutely no interest in finding out, so I went back inside.

A little while later, I looked out the window.

You're not going to believe this.

He was going through our stuff again.

At this point, we'd moved beyond my initial I don't trust this guy feeling.

I'd seen him wander away the first time.

I'd found him going through our things.

I'd asked what he was doing.

I'd moved him back to where everyone was.

I'd told my husband I was uncomfortable.

And then I watched almost the exact same thing happen again.

By then I was done.

Except instead of calmly saying, "This isn't okay with me, and I want him to leave," I had spent so much time trying to be nice that I was angry, my head hurt, and I ended up throwing a fit to get my husband to tell him it was probably time to go.

Not exactly my finest example of calm boundary setting. LOL.

But looking back, I don't think the problem started when I lost my temper.

The problem started much earlier, when I decided being uncomfortable wasn't enough of a reason to be clear.

In This Article

• When You Know Before You Know Why

• Why Wasn't Uncomfortable Enough?

• The Boundary I Tried to Laugh Off

• When the Quiet No Gets Loud

When You Know Before You Know Why

The weird thing about that day is the guy hadn't actually done anything when I decided I didn't trust him.

He was perfectly polite.

He sounded okay-ish.

If you'd asked me what exactly was wrong with him, I couldn't have told you.

His energy just felt yucky.

That's about as scientific as I can make it. LOL.

He made my skin crawl, and I had what felt like a big red stop sign in my head.

Nope.

But then the other part of my brain kicked in.

He hasn't done anything.

He's being perfectly nice.

He's a friend of a friend. He can't be all bad, right?

And, of course:

Maybe I'm just being bitchy.

I think that's where I get myself into trouble sometimes.

I don't want to judge somebody unfairly.

I wouldn't want someone to meet me for five minutes, decide they didn't like something about my “energy,” and make up a whole story about who I am.

So I try to give people the benefit of the doubt.

I still think that's a good thing.

But I've realized giving someone the benefit of the doubt doesn't mean I have to talk myself out of what I'm feeling.

I didn't know this guy was trouble.

At that point, I didn't know anything.

All I knew was that something about him made me uncomfortable.

And instead of letting that be enough information for the moment, I started trying to prove myself wrong.

He's nice.

Our friend knows him.

My husband seems to like him.

I don't have a reason not to trust him.

Apparently, he makes my skin crawl, but that wasn't making the list. LOL.

Maybe I was wrong.

That's the part I think matters.

I could have been wrong.

My first impression wasn't proof that he was a bad guy, and it certainly wasn't proof he was going to do anything.

But I didn't need to decide what kind of person he was.

I only needed to decide what I was comfortable with.

Those are two different decisions.

I know that better now.

If someone gives me that same feeling today, I'm not necessarily going to tell them to get off my property.

But I probably won't leave them alone either.

I'll be polite.

I'll be what I call curt-friendly.

And I'll pay attention.

If I get to know them and discover my first impression was completely wrong, great. I can change my mind.

But I don't have to become extra welcoming while I'm waiting to find out.

I can give someone the benefit of the doubt without ignoring my own discomfort.

I think that's the part I used to miss.

Not knowing why I don't trust something doesn't mean I've proven anything.

But it also doesn't mean I have to pretend I don't feel it.

Why Wasn't I Uncomfortable Enough?

The first time I caught him going through our stuff, I knew he'd crossed a line.

But then my brain started doing that thing.

I didn't actually see him take anything.

We have a lot of stuff.

Maybe he really was just looking.

Then he gave me the “I thought you wouldn't care because I'm friends with...” excuse.

Part of me could almost see how he might think that was reasonable.

The other part of me thought it was complete bullshit and briefly questioned my friend's taste in people. LOL.

What I actually wanted to say was:

Get the fuck out of here and don't come back.

What I did was laugh.

Apparently I have something of a laugh-or-punch response, and thankfully the laugh usually wins. LOL.

I told him to go back over where he'd been.

Then I told my husband what happened, and his response was basically:

I'm sure he was just looking.

That irritated me to no end.

But it was a nice afternoon. Nobody wanted a confrontation, and I didn't want to stir up a bunch of trouble over something that, technically, hadn't really happened.

He hadn't taken anything.

He hadn't threatened anybody.

He'd gone through our stuff without asking.

Which, now that I'm writing it down, sounds like something did happen.

Especially considering I literally have a metal sign hanging on a tree that says:

DON'T TOUCH MY SHIT.

Apparently my property has always had better boundaries than I do. Between the Don't Touch My Shit sign and another one warning people about the crazy woman who lives here, you would think I'd have been better at saying, “I'd like you to leave.” LOL..

So I stayed outside.

Partly because I was trying to keep things friendly.

Mostly because I wanted to keep an eye on him.

I stood there smiling, not saying much and clenching my teeth while my husband and this guy started messing around with a car.

Eventually I'd had enough and went inside.

I needed some space from him, and I figured they were occupied.

Then I looked out the window.

He was going through our stuff again.

That's when whatever patience I'd been holding onto disappeared.

Looking back, I think I know what I had been waiting for.

I wanted something undeniable.

Apparently, I needed to actually see him steal something before I thought I had enough reason to say:

I don't want this person here.

That's a pretty high bar for being allowed to be uncomfortable.

Especially on my own property.

And that's what I find interesting now.

I wasn't trying to decide whether he should go to jail. LOL.

I wasn't responsible for proving he'd done something terrible.

I was deciding whether I wanted someone in my space.

Those require very different amounts of evidence.

Maybe he really was just looking.

Maybe he wouldn't have taken a single thing.

I still didn't want him going through our stuff.

That should have been enough.

I didn't need to prove he was a bad person.

I didn't need my husband to agree that something was wrong with him.

And I certainly didn't need to wait until something disappeared.

I could give him the benefit of the doubt and still not leave him alone with my stuff.

That's actually what I'd do differently today.

If I got that initial Nope feeling, I'd pay attention.

I wouldn't leave him alone.

But I also wouldn't put myself in a position where I was alone with him.

I'd be polite.

I'd be careful.

And I'd let myself respond to what I knew at the time instead of waiting around for enough evidence to prove whether my discomfort was right.

Because maybe “I'm uncomfortable with this” doesn't need to mean “you're guilty of something.”

Sometimes it just means:

I'm uncomfortable with this.

And that's enough information to make my next decision.

The Boundary I Tried to Laugh Off

One thing I can see looking back is that I thought I was communicating a whole lot more than I actually was.

Inside my head, I was being pretty clear.

I don't like this guy.

I don't trust him.

I don't want him going through our stuff.

I want him to leave.

Outside?

I laughed.

I smiled.

I got quieter.

I clenched my teeth.

Apparently I expected everyone around me to be fluent in Lisa. LOL.

My husband does know me well. Usually he notices when something is off with me.

But my husband also likes people.

And talking.

So much talking. LOL.

He was enjoying himself; it was a nice afternoon, and I didn't want to be the needy wife who made a big deal out of something and ruined everybody's day.

So instead of saying, “I've had enough. I want him to leave,” I kept sending signals I thought should have been obvious.

They were obvious to me.

I was the one feeling them.

That's a distinction I haven't always been very good at making.

Sometimes I think I've communicated something because I've communicated it inside my own head.

My jaw is clenched.

My answers are getting shorter.

I'm not laughing the same way.

I've left the room.

Surely everyone knows I'm pissed.

Except maybe they don't.

Or maybe they notice something is wrong but have absolutely no idea what I want them to do about it.

And if I'm laughing while I'm telling someone to stop, I have to admit I'm giving them some mixed information.

That's not entirely on them.

I think the laugh is automatic for me. It comes out before I've had time to decide how I want to handle something.

Sometimes it works. It lets me say okay, that's enough without turning every awkward moment into a confrontation.

But sometimes I'm using it when I actually need to be clear.

And then I get irritated because nobody listened to the part I didn't really say.

By the time I finally do say it, I'm angry.

Really angry.

All those filters I normally have are pretty much gone by then, and what could have been:

“Hey, enough is enough. Please don't go through our things.”

has become something closer to:

“GET HIM OUT OF HERE.”

Same general message.

Slightly different delivery. LOL.

That's something I'm trying to catch earlier now.

I don't need to make a scene.

I don't have to be rude.

I don't have to turn every uncomfortable moment into a confrontation.

But I also don't have to smile, laugh, and hope everybody figures out that I mean the opposite.

I can politely say:

“Enough is enough.”

And let the words do the work instead of expecting everyone around me to read the signals.

Because apparently, no matter how obvious those signals feel from inside my body, not everyone speaks Lisa.

And honestly, I'm not sure what I was thinking expecting them to. LOL.

When the Quiet No Gets Loud

By the second time I looked out the window and saw him going through our stuff, there wasn't any more thinking.

I was DONE.

It was like a switch flipped.

All the questioning I'd been doing disappeared.

Maybe I'm being bitchy.

Maybe he's just looking.

Maybe I'm making too much of this.

Nope.

I wanted him gone.

And everything I'd been holding in came spewing out at once.

The guy going through our stuff. The fact that I'd already told my husband I didn't trust him. My husband brushing it off. Me standing outside clenching my teeth trying to keep everybody happy.

Pretty much the whole afternoon came out at once.

And probably a few things that weren't technically necessary. LOL.

Looking back, I can see the tension had been building for quite a while. I didn't really notice how bad it had gotten until my jaw started hurting.

The best way I can describe it is like overfilling a balloon.

A little more air.

Then a little more.

Everything looks fine until suddenly it isn't.

That's pretty much what I had done to myself all afternoon.

By the time I finally said what I wanted, there wasn't much room left for the filters I normally have.

People who know me well probably wouldn't say it came completely out of nowhere. I don't think I'm particularly subtle when I'm irritated. LOL.

But I think sometimes I forget that other people aren't feeling what's happening inside me.

I am.

And even I wasn't paying enough attention.

After he left, everything hit me at once. I was relieved, still angry, irritated with my husband, and my head hurt.

I knew I needed to go lie down and be by myself for a while before the spewing went all the way back to the beginning of the earth. LOL.

Later, I started wondering why I'd let myself get that far.

And I think part of it is that anger feels more real to me than discomfort.

When I'm uncomfortable, I can question it.

Is this really a big deal?

Am I being unfair?

Maybe I should give them a chance.

But when I'm angry?

Oh, I know how I feel then.

I don't wonder whether I want something to stop.

And that made me wonder if sometimes I've been waiting for anger to give me permission that my discomfort didn't.

Because anger wasn't the first signal I had that afternoon.

It was one of the last.

The first was that big red stop sign in my head.

Then my skin crawled.

Then I caught him going through our things.

Then I laughed at something I didn't think was funny.

Then my teeth clenched.

Then my jaw hurt.

Then I needed to get away from him.

My no had been there all afternoon.

It just kept getting louder.

I don't think the lesson is that I should never get angry. Sometimes anger gets my attention when apparently nothing else will.

But maybe I don't always need to wait for it.

If the same thing happened today, I'm not going to dramatically announce that someone's energy is unacceptable and order them off the property. LOL.

I'd probably be polite.

I'd pay attention.

And I'd say something like:

"Nice to meet you, but we have plans."

Then I'd let the visit end.

Maybe later I'd discover my first impression was completely wrong.

I'd be okay with that.

Because I don't have to prove someone is bad before I'm allowed to decide I'm uncomfortable.

And I don't have to wait until I'm angry enough to prove that discomfort was real.

It was real when it was quiet too.

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