Kate's Five Things #41

“You’re So Brave” and the Paradox of a Backhanded Compliment

Oct 18, 2024

Catching Up

How do you feel about being called “brave”? Coming from close friends, it’s the distinctly soothing balm of being seen. From an acquaintance, it gets tricky. It can give “Did we just become best friends” energy. Or it can feel like a hit-and-run. The same phrase can build closeness between friends or block a friendship from blossoming.

“You’re so brave” can mean, “I see you doing a hard thing, and I support you.” Or it can mean, “I see you, and I’m a little uneasy”—like sweetness coated in venom. It’s honest goodwill or goodwill fronting something more akin to judgment or pity.

I wonder how many of us sit holding both of these outcomes, rolling them around in our heads. The waxing and waning of closeness and rejection is an HSP’s (highly sensitive person) gift and curse.

It is a moment of clarity in our otherwise veiled perceptions of one another, wherein the recognition of “bravery” reveals more about the one perceiving than the perceived. The subconscious attempt to connect or distance comes into awareness. It’s a soupy mixture of two people’s histories of experiences emulsified or separated, like oil and water. It’s a moment you sort someone into “your people” vs. “everyone else.” It’s a bid to go below surface-level small talk.

This type of relating is hard and filled with opportunities for misinterpretation. Sometimes bravery isn’t something we opt into, but something we have no choice but to face. The bid to connect shines a light on where someone cannot understand. And so in our relational fumbling, there comes a point where we learn to find freedom in this relating and non-relating; letting words and actions be truths in themselves, rather than our projections of perception.

This paradox of perception has played out in my marriage, too.

Evolving and growing as individuals meant Joe and my relationship dynamics also shifted. Last week we went on a much-needed date night to reconnect one-on-one. The four-hour dinner revealed our struggle to connect, which came down to misinterpreting the context beneath our communication styles. He thought I was mad at him. I thought he was distant and disinterested in me. We dance around each other with these big assumptions beneath our simple words, coloring the context of everything without stopping to wonder if we’d somehow found ourselves on different sides of the same fence.

When we assume we know the meaning and context of the other person's words and actions, there is little room to realize that meaning and context can change, too.

After eleven years of marriage and a healthy friendship between us, realizing how often we had misinterpreted one another shocked both of us. It also helped reunite us. How did we get here turned into I’m so happy we’re here talking about how wild this has been, but the bridge we had to cross to get there was so scary.

We had wandered into the territory where we were reading between the lines instead of clarifying. We had been spending so much time together since we both started working from home, but had started communicating less. If we aren’t really hearing one another, can we call that “togetherness”? We decided asking for clarity or saying, “Wait, what do you mean by that” means “I want to understand you.” And that’s love for us.

In the hit show Nobody Wants This, healthy communication, boundaries, and respect are the invisible supporting actors. A rabbi and progressive podcaster fall deeply in love but make an odd pair, and the show follows Noah and Joanne as they are constantly put in vulnerable situations where the stakes are as high as they can get. When facing their biggest fears or losing what means the most to them, time and time again, they choose trust and clarity above all else.

Joe and I watched the show together. And it got me thinking a lot about the words I use and the context I use them in all of my relationships. It got me thinking about listening—really listening—and how it’s the antidote for misperception. It doesn’t require labels, or stepping on land mines that so often sit hidden in relationships that are going through an evolution.

When we’re unsure about where we stand with someone—like when we worry they think we’re really brave or totally insane—we often speak from a place of singularity. In a bid to be heard and understood, we advocate for ourselves without thinking about what our words will create in the space between us and the listener.

Listening this way—actively and with curiosity—has helped me find the safety and support within myself to face the inevitable fear I have of both connection and rejection. Listening has shown me that labels given by others are not my own, but a reflection of where this relationship is headed. It takes the hot air out of being misunderstood, leaves room for pause, and leaves space for the human across from you to see you not as a threat or a prize, but as someone they’re eager to build something with.

I kissed Joe before bed last night. He was fading into sleep as I was wrapping up work. Most days are like this, the two of us moving as passing ships, far apart but synchronized in our coordinates and duties. Most days we fall into bed so exhausted eye contact takes effort. The kiss is a ritual we’ve performed countless times, each one holding words unspoken—I’m sad, I miss you, where are you, come back, I am so mad right now, I want you, I need you, I love you, I am so happy you’re here.

When a ritual so small holds meaning so large, a time comes when you can’t wrap your arms around it. It takes on a form of its own, filling space so tight there is little room to move.

The kiss before bed means something different now. It means, I am committed to you and to this way of being, where it’s safe to be scared or confused or not sure right now. When the scary emotions are allowed in a relationship, when it’s ok to admit no one feels brave when being brave, you found someone who sees you the most clearly. And that’s pretty brave if you ask me.

Last Week’s House Call

In last week’s House Call, “How to Pick Yourself Up After a Big Setback,” we talk about how lonely it is to experience a setback, even though it’s an experience we all share.

Here’s a snippet:

When we go through any big setback or period of massive change in our lives, we’re often sequestered in obscurity or silence. Even though these experiences are so inherent to being human, our instinct is often to weather them quietly and alone. And it’s this instinct that keeps us disconnected from one another.

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How I'm feeling this week…

It’s Joe’s birthday week (his 40th is October 16) and I found myself stressed out about him having a “good time.” We threw a big house party on Friday that was casual and fun and went until 3 a.m. We hung out and did nothing all day on Saturday and realized how important it is to find space to just fill time with togetherness.

What's in my cart…

These real ballet flats in butter yellow, this cashmere v-neck came last week and I wore it like this, this statement jacket by Clare V that I want to wear with my favorite basics, and great knee-high cowboy boots that feel like Khaite without the Khaite pricetag.

What I'm consuming…

I read The Most, Big Fan, and I’m Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself. All great reads if you liked All Fours.

What resonated with me…

Ganni’s family-style meals, this Substack piece by “The male mind cannot comprehend the allure of Tony Soprano”, and this article: “Annihilation of the selfie” (snippet below).

“The photos feel mysterious and alive in a way my posed ones never did. Finally, I don’t appear to be outside of life, bending it to my will, but lost somewhere in the midst of it.”