The Supernatural episode sits in the middle of the series — two brothers trying to prevent two witches from destroying a city. These two witches, a married man and woman, are going through a pretty severe quarrel. It’s the usual witchy love story: man cheats on wife, wife kills all of man’s friends, man kills wife’s best friend and destroys her art gallery.
Typically, the episode would end with the two brothers killing the witches. Not this time though. This time, they actually save the day by helping the witches save their marriage. In a comical scene where the witches beat up Sam and Dean as the brothers offer much needed marriage counseling, the couple forgives each other and chooses to stop fighting and destroying their city.
Post-fight, Sam and Dean have an interesting talk that’s resonated with me. Check it out:
While I agree with Sam, I find myself living like Dean. Heck, I tell people the same thing Sam does.
“Go, talk it out! It’ll be ok! Your loved one will receive whatever you have to say without judgment. You can trust them. Just be honest!”
In practice, though, I refuse to tell people when they’ve hurt me. I lie to people about being okay when I’m not. I live the exact opposite of what I preach.
I’m a hypocrite.
At least Dean admitted he doesn’t talk or like talking; meanwhile, I claim to like it. And I’ll let people talk to me all day long. I love listening to others! But when it’s my turn to speak, I bite my tongue till it bleeds.
I haven’t destroyed any cities yet. But I wonder what I am on the verge of destroying. Maybe some friendships? Maybe what little relationship I have with my family? Perhaps even my marriage or my future parent-child relationship?
What am I in danger of ruining by my hypocrisy?
Are you a talker or a listener? Do you wrestle with not being vulnerable enough or too vulnerable? Do you struggle with saying “I’m okay” when you’re really not?
About the Author
I’m very conscious of saying “I’m fine” when really I’m anything but fine. I remember a pastor once preaching on this and saying what you really mean when you say F-I-N-E is F-undamentally messed up (I prefer Fucked Up), I-nsecure, N-eurotic and E-motionally unstable. Face to face I tend to clam up, on internet I let it all hang out. I guess that tells you I back off from real intimacy but yet I yearn for it. I tend to talk too much and listen too little. I make a hopeless counsellor because I always want to tell folk what to do, meanwhile I’m such a mess myself! Lol! I think being gay is a huge disadvantage and puts one in a place of defense automatically, and then being Christian as well adds another layer to that which makes one pretty defensive on the whole, and not a great listener. Someone who is always defending their position doesn’t usually have time to listen. Yet that’s exactly what I accuse others of doing – not listening but just attacking. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever learn, especially as i’m in my late 60s now, so doesn’t leave lots of learning time. Lol!
I’m definitely a listener. Even among people who are in my “inner circle” and know about my SSA, I usually can’t bring myself to talk about it directly. It’s “my struggles” or something like that, even among people that I trust. I can type things out and send them just fine, but every in-person conversation seems like I have to break through a brick wall just to mention SSA by name. It’s so ingrained in me that it’s something I don’t talk about and never, ever reveal. Recently, I’ve been doing better at acknowledging when things aren’t going too well spiritually so I can do something about it, but it’s not really my strength.
One of my big pet peeves is the way that “How are you?” has become a common greeting. People ask it without really knowing you or wanting to know how you really are. It leaves me feeling guilty about saying “fine”, and then jades me for when people that may actually care ask it. Sometimes I’ll say something like “that’s a loaded question” in hopes they’re willing to take the plunge, but often times they are not.
*Gets off soapbox*
I always with that people would be more transparent or vulnerable with me, but then I realize how guarded I often am. I feel like I’m still more vulnerable than most of my friends, though. My other problem is that I have a history of being too vulnerable, so I’m definitely trying to balance that out.
I’ve struggled with this a lot. I’m the same as you much of the time. But I’m coming to realize that often, when I say that I’m fine but I’m really not, either I’m not fully aware of the severity of the problem I’m dealing with at the moment, or I am speaking by faith, knowing that, although I am facing a serious issue, I will be fine, because I can’t imagine being God’s son and being defeated by any of my problems. Of course I do still need help, but I often wait till things get unbearable before I really ask for help or tell anyone what’s going on. This goes back to the pride and self-righteousness I struggle with. But I’m also learning to cast all of my cares on God for he cares for me, and letting him help me before everything blows up.
I’ve changed a lot over the years and now I talk less because I’ve done a lot of healing and have less to talk about. I’m also better at dealing with the lies and talking myself down. I do share and be vulnerable when I can if it will help me relate to someone or give a story about how I dealt with something without directly giving advice. I am also part of a men’s group where I am VERY vulnerable, working through past traumas and hurts, current triggers and such. I think finding a balance between those two sides of me is the next goal. I want to share more with others in my friendships but it seems like it has to be a current situation or I just don’t think about it. I do call people in my time of need though. In the past, I would shut down nearly all the time though, and it was really destructive to me. I would pretend sometimes and eventually avoid people because I didn’t want to lie when I was asked how I was doing. An even worse thought though was if I WASN’T asked and I wanted to be, but I was afraid to say how I was doing because it wasn’t socially appropriate. The polite answer should be “fine”. I would usually have a sick look on my face like I was going to vomit and I couldn’t hide it. Everyone knew, but it just wasn’t the right time to acknowledge it. Thank God that is not my current reality, but I still think about it and it makes me so elated things are so much better now.