My Tendency to Clam Up
About half the time I go shopping at my local supermarket, a big chain, there are AT&T salespeople posted near the exit. They are usually young, good-looking guys, clearly torn between accosting people to make a commission and hanging around looking at their phones. They usually make at least a half-hearted attempt to get the attention of everyone walking past with a cart full of groceries.
“Hi sir/ma’am, how are you doing today? Do you have a quick second to talk about your phone plan?”
“No” I mutter as I pretend to find something extremely interesting in my shopping cart or answer a fake but important text message. I cast my eyes in their direction just enough to convey that it’s them to whom I’m saying no, but I can’t spare any effort to slow down or look at their faces. I am afraid to see a look of (1) disappointment that they won’t be selling to me today, (2) hurt that I won’t even take a minute to speak with them, or (3) reinforced determination leading to even more aggressive sales tactics. We all know men who double down when they don’t get the answer they want from a woman.
I hate having to walk by salespeople and canvassers. I also hate it when they knock on the door of my home, ignoring the “No Soliciting” sign. I realize that I live in a society and have to tolerate other people who have a right to try to capture my attention. My equivalent right is to decline to engage or simply say “No”, but I find that more difficult than it should be. I’ve never been able to decline somebody, or express a preference that might hurt someone’s feelings, without approaching the words gingerly, almost choking on them as they reluctantly leave my mouth—or my keyboard, in some cases. I treat them like a grenade, throwing them and running away from the impact.
When it’s a solicitor, I just start moving faster to get away from the person before they can pressure me to change my mind. When it’s a person I have a relationship with, I put up any kind of wall I can manage. Once, after breaking up with a guy who was sweet but not right for me, he emailed after a respectful passage of time and asked if we could meet for coffee. I declined because I had no interest in pursuing a friendship with him. I’m sure that I worded my response politely, but when I saw a new email from him in reply, I promptly deleted it without reading. I was too scared that I’d offended him and, despite everything I knew about him, he would attack me for being a cold-hearted bitch.
There are lots of electronic walls that can be put up to keep people away: blocking, muting, ghosting. I’ve never had cause to block anyone on a messaging platform, but in some of my less proud moments I have ghosted. Real-life walls are harder to maintain. In difficult conversations with my partner, when I need to talk about something I’m not pleased with, my fear is such that I’d rather let the words eat me up inside than let them be heard. I know, in my higher brain, that a good partner will react with respect and love to just about anything I say, but that knowing is no match for a fear of self-expression that’s been brewing since childhood.
When I can’t erect a wall to prevent my words (feelings/opinions) from leaving me, I try to soften the blow that I imagine they will have. Actually, that’s not correct: I try to shield myself from whatever reaction I fear will be incurred. I have written multi-page letters to a boyfriend explaining my mixed feelings about the relationship, because I can leave the room or do something else while he’s reading and I don’t have to take in his reactions. If I’m verbally telling a person something they may not want to hear, I make my body small and my mouth even smaller, as if my lips are making a last-ditch effort to contain the words before they leave my body forever. I sometimes recoil, subtly, afraid of some physical retribution for sharing thoughts as simple as “This is a thing you do that I don’t like.”
I know I’m not alone. I’m aware that because I grew up female, I received social conditioning that I still can’t pinpoint but whose effects are real. Between that and my also-real anxiety disorder, I have an extremely hard time expressing my needs and desires. This has been trying for my partner of more than ten years. I’m lucky that he’s learned to read me well, but that is still no excuse for not being my true, vulnerable self. Hard conversations are the ones that most need to be had. (This was reinforced by a book I just finished reading, Please Unsubscribe, Thanks by Julio Vincent Gambuto, which I recommend to anyone feeling overwhelmed by the modern pace of life in a capitalist society.) I feel like I’m in my forties, dammit, and I should be over this bullshit by now. Our human programming runs deep.
I’ve also been thinking that I should take the AT&T guys at the store as an opportunity, more than an annoyance. I don’t need to stop and have a conversation with them, but I should be able to squarely say “No, thank you” or “No, I’m not interested” without instantly wanting to run away. Sadly, I’m not quite there yet.