Confrontations Suck, Right?

Despite my aversion to confronting people, it may be one of the most essential tools I use to help manage my anxiety.

When I was younger and going through the worst time of my GAD (generalized anxiety disorder), I would go out of my way to avoid anything I perceived as a threat that could trigger a panic attack.

I eventually found that avoiding something hanging over my head, in the long run, caused 'more anxiety' than if I had simply stopped and dealt with it at the time. Here is my story of how I learned to confront people.

At my first real 'adult' job after graduating from college, a coworker named Ryan (not his real name) was equivalent to a 'class clown' of the worst kind.

He was constantly making bad jokes and had two sidekicks who invariably were always with him, egging him on and encouraging his antics even more. High school all over again.

One day, his sidekick, Tyler (not his real name), went too far and said something off-color to me. I usually let banter go, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but this comment was unsettling and left me extremely uncomfortable.

So, this is what I did; I stepped out of the office and called my mom. I was upset and told her what had been said, hoping she would say what I wanted to hear, 'that I was overreacting,' so I could avoid dealing with the situation.

As usual, I wanted to act like nothing was bothering me, which was my usual behavior in this sort of situation. Mom agreed that he had gone too far and thought I might want to tell him so.

I knew she was right. Recently, I had been working toward being more assertive and building more self-confidence in myself, and this was the perfect opportunity to do just that.

Marching back into the office, I psyched myself up, telling myself, 'I need to be tough and firm.' I found Tyler sitting at his desk. I walked right in and proceeded to confront him,

"Tyler, what you said to me was inappropriate. I didn't appreciate it, and I want it to stop."

He acted at first like he didn't know what I was talking about, and then he did what no one wants to hear; he downplayed it.

He tried to tell me that it wasn't a big deal. I truly wanted to believe Tyler was a good guy, so I reminded him of what he had said. He heard me and actually agreed with me.

It was at this point (the one thing that I have always feared would happen, the very thing that has kept me from confronting people) I started to cry.

I could tell right away that my tears made him uncomfortable, and he assured me it would never happen again. I said, "Okay," turned, and left his office.

Sitting back at my desk, I began feeling so embarrassed and found that my hands were shaking. I replayed the conversation in my head and how forceful I had been. Was I too forceful?

But when he saw my tears, he responded with a kinder attitude

As I returned to work, my hands finally stopped shaking, and my embarrassment began to lessen. Then I began to feel something else, 'success.'

I had confronted someone! I hadn't let my fears or anxiety stop me, and yes, even though I hadn't been at my best, I still felt triumphant.

My relationship with Tyler was never the same after that. Although he was still a nice guy and would say hi, I always felt he was uncomfortable around me.

I felt terrible that I did such a poor job confronting him. Still, I didn't regret it.

Soon my next opportunity to confront came about, the class clown himself, Ryan.

Now Ryan could take a joke too far to the point if he knew something bothered you, he would do it even more.

But despite this, I felt Ryan was also a good guy.

Ryan started this new behavior of pointing his finger at me. At first, it didn't bother me, but then he started doing it more and more and kept getting closer and closer until he was in my face. Even when I told him, in a nice way, to cut it out, he didn't.

I was presented with the same decision, do I confront him or let it go? Because my confrontation with Tyler went so badly, surely I wouldn't attempt to confront Ryan too. But I did. I went to his office, this time better prepared.

I said, "Ryan, I really don't like it when you point your finger in my face."

When I spoke, I could hear my voice quiver, but I didn't get angry, and I didn't cry.

He said, "Why? Does it really bother you that much?"

He wasn't angry and wasn't being sarcastic; just asking a question.

I said, "Yes, it does, and I want you to stop it."

He said, "Okay,"

That was the end of it, and he never did it again. I felt a tiny bit of embarrassment this time because I was sure he noticed my voice shook when I spoke. Still, I felt that triumphant feeling again.

I began feeling more secure, and as a result, I noticed my anxiety level dropped much lower around the office now when I was at work.

I would no longer be a victim of jokes or at the mercy of people coming into my personal space anymore. And I'm proud to say, I didn't have to call my mom this time before I confronted Ryan.

Then the craziest thing happened, after this confrontation with Ryan, it became noticeably clear that he liked me even more than before.

He went from being someone I couldn't stand to one of my favorite people in the office. He had stopped trying to irritate me with his bad jokes, and instead, it turned into fun banter between us.

Who would have thought?

But I'm not done yet.

A few months later, a new employee was hired. His name was Glenn (of course, not his real name), and I was responsible for training him.

Glenn was a nice, friendly guy, but then came the day when he was a little too friendly.

He came into the office, walked past me, said "Hi," and then patted me on the back.

I walked away, thinking it was a little strange because we hadn't known each other that long. I thought it was a one-time thing, but it happened again and again.

By the fourth time, it was making me feel uncomfortable. I became fearful that it could escalate into something more. I knew I had to confront him.

He came into work the next day, and as I walked past him to leave for the day, he patted me on the back and said goodbye. I stopped, dead in my tracks, turned around, and said,

"Hey Glenn, don't pat me on the back anymore."

My voice didn't shake. In fact, I sounded strong and confident. He stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face. When he didn't answer, I said, "Okay?"

He then responded, "Okay." I said, "Thanks," turned and walked away.

I was feeling so accomplished that if I could have, I probably would have done cartwheels down the hallway. I had done it! I remained calm, I didn't cry, and my voice didn't shake.

I made him acknowledge what I was saying and agree not to touch me anymore.

Glenn stopped patting me on the back, but afterward, whenever we were working together, I felt he was a little nervous or on edge around me.

It's funny when I think about how uncomfortable many people are when it comes to confronting (like I was) or when being confronted (like I was). This is why I have always had difficulty confronting others.

I thought that telling someone I was unhappy with their behavior was equivalent to hurting their feelings, and I would feel guilty afterward, thinking I had done something wrong.

I have spent most of my life holding in my own hurt feelings because of my inability to speak up, but today I make sure my relationships always allow room for meaningful confrontations.

It is vital to me that we not only tell each other what we want to hear but also what we don't want to hear.