Sorry i bother you with my friendship

“Sorry I Annoyed You With My Friendship” | by Kristal D. | kristawkward

I was reading an interview with Kristen Bell where she discusses her battle with anxiety. Although there are several reasons why I have anxiety, Kristen describes a particular situation that hits home for me.

“I’m extremely co-dependent. I shatter a little bit when I think people don’t like me. That’s part of why I lead with kindness and I compensate by being very bubbly all the time because it really hurts my feelings when I know I’m not liked. And I know that’s not very healthy and I fight it all the time.”

Hi, my name is Kristal and I am a people pleaser since 1995.

My mind convinces me that a person hates me. On the surface, I appear calm and collected. On the inside, I feel anxious and I can’t take a deep breath. Under certain circumstances, if I don’t get a text or email back from someone, if I haven’t talked or seen a person in a while, if someone talks to me in a different tone, if someone doesn’t put a “haha” or happy emoji at the end of their message, or if someone gives me a look, my mind panics and immediately thinks a person is mad at me, sick of me, or annoyed. I convince myself that this person dislikes me more and more.

Then, I blame myself. I must have done something wrong to cause this. It’s all my fault. I need to make amends and reach out by doing them a favor or sharing something that they like. I need to know what I did wrong so I could apologize and fix it immediately. Or maybe I shouldn’t reach out because I’ll bother them even more. I’ll just give them the space they need — away from me. Maybe they’ll forget about me because I am someone who is easily forgotten and replaced. My mind goes back and forth. My anxiety builds up and my body starts to shut down. I want to fetal.

Even as I write this, a part of me hesitates and worries what people will think. Despite these feelings, people are usually not mad at me, sick of me, or annoyed. They might have been busy, had a rough or tiring day, or I may have misread their tone and expression. I receive the assurance I need when I do hear back from a late text or email, when a person asks me to hang out, when a person puts a “haha” or happy emoji at the end of a later message, or when someone who I thought gave me a disapproving look later smiles at me. Those dear to me know that I don’t try to intentionally hurt others. When I do make a mistake or upset someone, I have no problem admitting I was wrong and apologizing.

To others, these feelings might seem silly and unnecessary. To me, it’s something that I’ve constantly felt while I was growing up. From the age of 3 to 13, I moved to several places with my family. My location was always changing, but my feelings were consistent: the need to be liked, accepted, and to keep people in my life were things I yearned and aimed for.

As I get older, I am slowly learning how to cope and let go of situations that aren’t worth the time and energy. It is a vicious cycle that is unhealthy and unrealistic. The older I get, the more I’m okay with not pleasing everyone. What’s important is that I am aware of my feelings and the steps I need to take to grow as a person. I can’t control how others react, but I can control what and who I choose to focus on.

English translation, synonyms, antonyms, example sentences, meaning, phrases

Correspondence with N. F. von Meck (1877)

62. Tchaikovsky - Mecca

Venice,

December 5/17, 1877

Just received your recommended letter. Thank you, dear Nadezhda Filaretovna! I confess to say, since yesterday, I began to fear that the letter was lost. It went on for a very long time. I have already been to the banker, who told me to come back in three days.

Reading your letter today, I was very sorry that I wrote you from Vienna a refutation of your theory, that is, it was not a refutation, but a denial that your philosophy really exists in you. Now I understand that it was very naive and embarrassing on my part. People tend to judge their neighbor by their own standards. Because I do not find in my soul the strength to develop any strong convictions, because I, like a weather vane, turn between traditional religion and critical arguments of reason, I certainly wanted you to swim with me in the sea of ​​doubt. I forgot then that there can be people like Spinoza, Goethe [By the way, have you read Lewis's book about Goethe? If not, then read on. What a huge figure! (Comment by Tchaikovsky.)], Kant, who managed to do without religion. I forgot that, not to mention these colossi, there is an abyss of people who have managed to create for themselves a harmonious system of ideas that have replaced religion for them. I have to envy these people. It seems to me that I am doomed to doubt and seek a way out of contradictions all my life. In general, my inclination to compare myself with you was very unfortunate. From everything you have written to me, from some of the biographical details you have given me in today's letter, I have come to the conclusion that you are, without any doubt, a man of strong character, with an unyielding will. It became very clear to me that such an integral, strong nature as yours could not but come to some firm convictions. How weak, incapable of struggle, indecisive, pathetic, am I compared to you! I say this not at all with the aim of flirting with my self-humiliation, but because of the real consciousness of all the flabbiness and weakness of my soul. At this moment it seems to me that you should have drawn the same conclusion from my confessions, and I feel ashamed before you. I feel before you a feeling similar to that which seizes a person of tiny stature, talking to a person of enormous stature. This is not a phrase. After all that I read in your letter, my respect, my love for you became, if possible, even stronger, but at the same time, with irresistible obviousness, I realized my insignificance.

Much of what you write is extremely sympathetic to me. I like your proud attitude towards public opinion. When I was in my normal state, when I was not yet broken, as now, I assure you that my contempt for “qu' en dira-t-on” [“what will be said about it”] was at least so as strong as yours. Now, I confess, I seem to have become more sensitive in this regard. However, I am ill, that is, morally ill. Moreover, I always hated publicity, I was always upset when I saw that they were doing a lot of me. And since the story of my marriage, my flight and illness could not but sharpen my tongues, this annoyed me. Unfortunately, my activity as an artist is associated with publicity, and the role of an outsider, a contemplator of no interest to anyone, is impossible for me. Why do you say that we disagree with you about human beauty? Why do you think that I give her a large place in the evaluation of a person? Yes, the beauty of a person certainly affects me! But what is human beauty? After all, this concept is purely relative and has nothing to do with the absolute beauty that manifests itself in art. The French have a vulgar but very true definition of human beauty: “beau qui plait” [“beautiful is the one who pleases”]. But after all, a plaire [like] face can be ugly, and we meet with this fact every minute! I'll say more. Faces with beauty in the classical sense are rarely liked. In the face of a person, in his gait, manners, movements, look, something elusive, indefinable, is pleasant. In essence, this “something” is a reflection of spiritual beauty. In this sense, of course, I easily succumb to the charming effect of a person's appearance. Therefore, regarding the view of the beauty of people, there is a misunderstanding in words. By the beauty of a person is meant the external reflection of his internal qualities, but there is no word for this appearance.

There is only one thing in your letter that I will never agree with, and that is your view of music. I especially don't like your comparison of music with intoxication. It seems to me that this is false. A person resorts to guilt in order to deceive himself, to give himself the illusion of contentment and happiness. And he gets this deceit at a high price! The reaction is terrible. But be that as it may, wine delivers, however, a momentary oblivion of grief and longing - and nothing more. Is this the effect of music? She is not a lie, she is a revelation. And this is precisely its victorious power, that it reveals to us elements of beauty that are inaccessible in any other sphere, the contemplation of which is not temporary, but forever reconciles us with life. She enlightens and pleases. It is very difficult to catch and trace the process of musical enjoyment, but it has nothing to do with intoxication. In any case, this is not a physiological phenomenon. It goes without saying that the nerves, hence the material organs, participate in the perceived musical impression, and in this sense music delights our body. But it is known that it is very difficult to draw a sharp distinction between the material and spiritual sides of a person.

After all, thinking is also a physiological process, for it belongs to the functions of the brain. However, it's all about the words. No matter how differently we explain to ourselves the meaning of musical enjoyment, one thing is certain, this is that you and I love music equally strongly. Its role in our lives is the same. This is absolutely enough for me. I am pleased that you so passionately love and call divine the art to which I have dedicated my life.

I really like the view of good and evil in people in your philosophy. This view is somewhat fatalistic, but full of the most Christian indulgence towards the vices and shortcomings of one's neighbor. You are absolutely right when you say that it is absurd to demand from a person who has not been given virtues and intelligence that he become kind and intelligent. Here again I stumble upon the striking difference between your individuality, which belongs to the highest sort, and mine, which belongs entirely to the category of base and weak natures, despite the fact that nature has endowed me with a musical talent. I have always forced myself to look at the evil of human nature as the inevitable negation of the good. Proceeding from this (if I am not mistaken, clarified by Spinoza) point of view, I should never succumb to feelings of malice, hatred. Meanwhile, in practice, it turns out that I am angry, hate, indignant at people just as exactly as a person who never had the idea that each of his neighbors acts according to the instructions of his fate. I probably know that you are inaccessible to petty feelings of malice and revenge. This is clear to me from everything I know about you, both from you and from others. You dodge a blow from your neighbor instead of retaliating with a stronger blow. In a word, you carry out your philosophy in practice. And I again have the same duality: I think one thing, but I do another.

The obvious proof of the above, I will present to you now. I have one friend, a certain Kondratiev, a very nice person, pleasant to deal with, but suffering from one drawback - selfishness. This selfishness manifests itself in him in such sweet, gentlemanly forms that it is impossible to be angry with him for a long time. In September, when, before my illness, I was dying of despair in Moscow and in a paroxysm of grief I was looking for support in someone, it happened that this Kondratiev, who lives in a village in the Kharkov province, wrote me a letter, as always filled with expressions of the most ardent friendship. I did not want to open up to the brothers, for fear of mortally upsetting them. The cup was overflowing. I wrote a letter to Kondratiev, in which I outlined all the horror and all the hopelessness of my situation. The meaning of this letter, read, of course, between the lines, was this: “I am dying, save me, support me and hurry!” He is a very wealthy man, completely free and ready, according to him, for all sorts of sacrifices for a friend. I was convinced that he would come to my aid. Then something happened that you know. Already in Clarence, I was delivered a letter from him, which arrived in Moscow a week after my flight. In this letter, my friend is very sorry for me and at the end he writes: “Pray, my friend, pray. God will help you get out of this situation.” Cheap and angrily got off! Tonight I was reading the third volume of Thackeray's marvelous novel, Pendennis. There is one living exposed face of the major, Pendennis, who very often reminded me of Kondratiev. It happened that one episode especially sharply painted my friend to me. I jumped out of bed and immediately wrote him a letter, in which I attacked him with completely excessive vehemence with an instrument of mockery, through which anger showed through. After reading your letter, I felt ashamed. I immediately wrote him another, asking him to forgive me for my immoderate and inappropriate vehemence. Do you see what a beneficent influence you have on me, my best friend, my providence and consolation?

At the end of the letter I will tell you about the news I received, which filled me with the strongest joy. Brother Modest writes that the father of his disciple sends them both abroad. This must be done soon. I'm so glad I can't express it to you. It happened like this. When brother Anatoly left, and I, having seen him off, stayed in Vienna, a desperate longing came over me. Suddenly an idea flashed in my head, which I immediately put into practice. I wrote Conrad and a letter, asking him to excuse me if the request was insane, and, in case my desire was not fulfilled, not to say anything about it to my brother. In this letter, speaking of my loneliness, I directly ask Conradi to send his son and brother abroad. The boy is very. weak, and his previous winter trips brought him a lot. benefit. I used all my eloquence to convince Conradi. The result of this was the following telegram which I received yesterday from my brother: “Tu as vaincu Conrady. Pars apres couches avec Nicolas a l'etranger” [“You defeated Konradi. I’m going abroad with Kolya after giving birth.”]. In order that you may know what apres couche s means, I must add that Mme Conradi is due to relieve her burden in the next few days. It goes without saying that the boy's parents cannot let him go until he has a brother or sister. So, in two or three weeks, I will have the opportunity to live with a dear brother and his student, whom I love terribly. One cannot imagine how sweet, smart, kind, gentle this poor child is. His affection for his brother is beyond measure. Seeing them together is touching. I'm overjoyed. Thank you, my dear friend, for your offer to send me the Moscow Newsletter. It would be very pleasant, but my restless disposition does not allow me to sit still for a long time, and I am afraid even for one month to subscribe to a newspaper. But I have a request to you. I am a big fan of reading magazines dedicated to the past. In Moscow I received the Russian Archive, Russian Antiquity, and Ancient and New Russia, but this year I did not subscribe to them because I could read them for free. Would you be so kind as to have one of these three magazines for this year sent to me for the time being. I would be very, very happy if you would give me the opportunity to read Russkaya Starina. Do I bother you with this request? Sorry for the impertinence.

Rubinstein's "Persian Songs" were written to a German text by the poet Bodenstedt. This Bodenstedt (translator of Lermontov and Pushkin) composed several poems in imitation of Hafiz and put up the fictitious name of Mirza Shaffi, the imaginary author of Persian original plays. Meanwhile, I personally know that Bodenstedt (whom I met last year in Bayreuth) does not know Persian. I translated from the German text. Does it say on the sheet music: “translation from Persian”? If yes, then it's not my fault, but it's unpleasant for me.

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