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Cut Toxic People Loose

We all have dysfunctional friends and family. In some respects, they add color and fun to our lives. But sometimes you find yourself up against that special someone who constantly complains about others and puts you down. We want to accept the latter as much as we accept the former. But there’s a problem.

Mood music:

The latter group — we’ll call them the toxic people — rub off on you. Their toxic tirades seep into your pores until you either (a) get sick with worry because of all the rumors you’ve been fed or (b) end up as a toxic complainer yourself. When you get this way, you will surely bring other people down.

As a Catholic, I’ve been taught that we have to love and accept everyone, regardless of their flaws. Unless, of course, they are a pro-choice Democrat.

Political jokes aside, the line about acceptance makes perfect sense. Love is supposed to win out against hate. I badly want to believe it. But I’ve also learned from experience that it simply can’t always work that way. If someone insists on vomiting verbal toxins every time you have a chance to converse, you have to cut them lose before they poison your soul.

That’s the inconvenient truth about toxic people. You want to love them because you know that, deep down, there’s a good heart beating away. But if you stand too close, you’ll adopt the very qualities in them that you despise.

Don’t let it happen.

If you have a toxic person in your life, cut them lose. Not because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the pressure, but because you have to stay strong for yourself and many others.

Life is too hard and too short to be dealing with negative souls. Pray for them because you want them to be happy and more pleasant to be around. But do so from a distance.

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Nobody Likes a Peever

I’m all for vigorous debate. If I write something you think is bullshit, I want your criticism. The resulting discussion means we walk away a little smarter.

But if all you want to do is show how smart you are and how stupid the other person is, you’re not being a good debater or critic, you’re just being a peever

And nobody likes a peever.

Mood music:

As a longtime writer and editor, I’ve found no better example of peevery than the folks who equate a misplaced comma or misspelled word with stupidity.

I’m not talking about the folks who calmly reach out to you to let you know you’ve made a typo. It may be uncomfortable for the recipient, but the feedback is coming from a polite, neighborly place.

I’m talking about the people who have stylistic preferences. If you don’t follow their gospel to the letter, they go crazy and blast you on Facebook and Twitter for being grammatically impure. I’m talking about those who bash you publicly for the garden-variety typos. For them, it’s not enough to simply point out that you’ve put a comma in the wrong place. They have to berate you for slipping up because, you know, you’re a professional and mistakes are unprofessional.

Of course, you don’t have to be a writer or editor to be a peever.
People who tear down others online over their political beliefs are peevers. People who publicly judge others over their life choices are peevers. People who get self-righteous over other people’s posts are peevers.

To be fair, I think many of us have had our moments as peevers. I certainly have. For example, I really hate all those pre-written, self-righteous Facebook posts. One example:

I was RAISED, I didn’t just grow up. I was taught to speak when I enter a room, say Please & Thank you, to have Respect for my elders, lend a helping hand to those in need, hold the door for the person behind me, say Excuse me when it’s needed, & to Love people for who they are, not for what you can get from them! I was also taught to treat people the way I want to be treated! If you were raised this way too, please re-post this…sadly, many won’t, because they weren’t, and it shows~Thank you

One day, I told Erin I was going to write a post flaming all those stupid sayings.

“Tell me what that has to do with OCD?” she asked, giving me that stare she gives me when she’s certain that I’m full of shit.

“It’s a trigger,” I said, not really meaning it.

“It’s not a trigger. It’s a peeve. You going to go pet it now?” she asked, still giving me that stare.

I was being a peever, and she called me out on it.

None of us are perfect. We all say and write stupid things sometimes. When someone else does it, we should cut them some slack and, as needed, privately offer feedback.

Remember: Flaming people in public doesn’t make you useful. It just makes you a peever.

No one likes a peever.

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Hit Me Again, I Can Take It

Despite the sometimes divisive topics I write about daily, most of the comments people leave under my posts are positive. But don’t you worry — I take my share of  barbed rebukes as well. Since it can be terribly difficult for some to take criticism, I thought I should share what I’ve learned.

Mood music:

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To show I’m an equal opportunity kinda guy, let me start by sharing the not-so-nice reactions readers have had to my work of late. This one came from a guy who didn’t like my tone in the CSOonline Salted Hash security blog when I told people to stop passing around a hoax Facebook message about privacy rights (or the lack thereof for those who insist on posting everything about themselves):

Wow. Have you ever considered writing in a slightly less condescending, obnoxious manner? It might improve the rate at which your message is successfully received by others … that is, of course, premised on the notion that your words function as a means for communication and not as a tool for artificially boosting your self-esteem.

My response was this:

Sorry you feel that way. It’s not about trying to be condescending. It’s about forcefully arguing a point. You are, of course, welcome to stop reading. No hard feelings.

It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he were one of the people who fell for the Facebook hoax. If he’s embarrassed and lashing me makes him feel better, I’m fine with that.

Yesterday’s post on dealing with dysfunctional family got me a flaming response from a relative who told me I should stop being mean. It was the kind of message that had various words in all caps and lots of exclamation points. In an act of mercy (I didn’t want people to see this person making herself look bad), I deleted the comment, which is rare for me.

Angry comments from family tend to be toughest to digest, but given the semi-autobiographical nature of this blog, I’d be a fool to expect all sunshine and roses.

Happily, most family members who read my posts get where I’m coming from. And I’ve said it before: My memories are my memories. They may not represent the whole unvarnished truth, and there’s always another side to the story. But I tell you things as truthfully as I can, based on how I remember events. It’s but one perspective.

I could stop writing or limit what I do write to the type of stuff that never offends and never tries to get at the truth. But that’s not my style.

If you don’t want to offend or be offended, writing is the wrong profession for you. There are times when you have to take clear, forceful views and  prepare to be violently disagreed with. There are also times when every unpleasant detail must be added to give readers the clearest picture of the points you need to make. I’ve written about some unpleasant childhood memories, but I’ve ended almost all such posts on a positive note, because I know how lucky I am to have the life I’m living.

If you want to disagree with me, go ahead. If you want me to change my approach or my opinions, you may as well stop reading now.

You Can't Handle the Truth