I’d like to preface this video with one statement. I really do try hard to get on
with the other humans, but somehow, things usually go awry. Does this mean I’m not
a misanthrope? I don’t know. But I often find myself fighting my inner self. I don’t
want to hate people, but more often than not, that’s what I end up doing.
A while back, before the recent lockdown, I was walking with my son one Sunday afternoon.
As kids often do, he suddenly had to go to the toilet, but almost everywhere was closed.
We ended up walking around the back of an art gallery looking for a toilet, but there
were none to be found. As we walked past the back of the gallery, I noticed through the
glass doors a man working on something inside. I madly knocked on the glass and explained
the situation to him and that my son couldn’t wait much longer. The man was kind enough
to let us in and use the bathroom. As we were walking out, my son took an interest in what
the man was drawing, so I asked him if it would be okay if my son could take a quick
look. Immediately, the man stood up and said words to the effect, ‘Excuse me, I’m extremely
busy. I was kind enough to let you use the toilet, but could you please leave now?”.
Logically, I completely understand his reaction. He was busy. The art gallery was closed. There
was no expectation for him to let people in to use the toilet. In his mind, he was kind
enough to allow us to come in, but it certainly was not an invitation for us to have a chit-chat
with him. In his mind, he had done the right thing, but we had overstepped the boundaries.
But from an emotional point of view, I was upset. I was angry. In the moment, I just
couldn’t understand why he couldn’t spare us a single minute for my son to take a quick
look at his sketch. Perhaps if he was a different person, none of this would have happened.
Actually, at the time, I honestly thought he’d be happy to show us his new drawing.
I thought he’d be delighted that somebody would take interest in his work. But I was
completely wrong. I completely misread his demeanour.
This little situation exemplifies my interaction with the human race. I usually feel like I’m
doing the right thing, but am often shocked when people react in a completely unexpected
way. To this day, I still think about this man almost every day. It still upsets me the
way he reacted, despite me logically understanding why he reacted the way he did. For most people,
I assume, they would have well and truly forgotten about this little encounter a long time ago.
But for me, I dwell on these sorts of things months and even years later.
Society, as the name implies, is built on social interaction. Logically I know I can’t
exist in this world without having some sort of interaction with other people. If I go
to buy a pizza, I have to interact with people. Even if I make a pizza myself, I still have
to rely on people to mill the flour, grow the vegetables, and milk the cows to produce
the cheese. Unless I produce everything myself, and have my own electrical grid and water
source, I just have to accept that I need other people. It would be foolish of me to
hate the people that grow my vegetables, or supply my electricity. Or at least, it would
be foolish of me to publicly hate them.
Actually, the whole idea of money and trade purely exists because of people. If I want
to earn some money and live a comfortable life, I have to appease the other humans.
If I want people to watch this YouTube channel, it’s no good me just saying, “Watch my
f***ing videos you ungrateful c**ts!”. I mean, most people would just be offended and
tune out. I mean, this applies to all human interaction. If in their next ad campaign,
Coke announced, “If you drink Pepsi, you’re a f***wit! Drink Coke you c**t!”. Perhaps
some people might find it funny, but society in general wouldn’t tolerate it. The backlash
would be overwhelming.
I don’t exactly know what I’m trying to say here, but basically, even though I call
myself a misanthrope, I recognise that if I want to be happy in this world, I have to
get on with at least some of the other humans. Whether it be you guys watching these videos,
or my family members, or my work colleagues, or even the cashier at the supermarket. If
I want anything nice to happen in my life, I have to treat these people with a certain
level of respect, even if half of them don’t respond in kind.
As I’ve gotten older (and perhaps wiser), I’ve realised a couple of things. First
of all, the overwhelming reason I get upset with people is not because of them, but because
of my expectations not matching reality. There’s a formula floating around on the internet
saying that, Happiness = Reality – Expectations. Based on this formula, a guaranteed way of
sustaining high happiness levels is to maintain low expectations. Now I’m not saying whether
this is right or wrong, but I expected the old man to show me his artwork, and when he
didn’t, I got upset. But is that his fault? Of course not! It’s my fault for expecting
him to do something which perhaps he found bothersome.
Secondly, I’m highly sensitive. Where most people aren’t offended by minor remarks
or encounters, I often get overly upset. It’s a real thing apparently. It’s called Sensory
Processing Sensitivity. It’s not a condition, but a personality trait, with about 15–20%
of the population having it. A person with this trait is considered to be a highly sensitive
person. They tend to have increased emotional reactivity and empathy, to both positive and
negative influences. They tend to have higher stress levels. They’re more easily overwhelmed.
They have increased rates of depression, anxiety, and symptoms of autism. I mean, that’s me
in a nutshell. When I interact with people and expect them to behave a certain way and
they don’t, I get upset. I feel like they should know better. But they don’t, and
they never will. And I think I’m starting to realise it’s more to do with me, not
them. It’s just that I expect more than reality can offer. I expect them to be sensitive
to my emotions when they’re not. And I’ve got the double whammy of being overly sensitive
to how they react to me.
I can think of two situations off the top of my head where this over-sensitivity and
extreme empathy have really thrown me a curve ball. Back when I was in primary school, there
was a boy in grade 3 who lived nearby. We used to hang out on the weekends and skate.
But then one day, he stole my skateboard. My mother and I caught him riding down the
street on it. A couple of weeks went past and we hadn’t been talking with one another.
I didn’t want to talk to him. He was no longer my friend. He didn’t seem to care
and that suited me fine. But then later that afternoon, he was running around on the concrete
and another boy tripped him up. He fell on his face and smashed his glasses. The other
boys stood around laughing at him as he was crying on the floor. I felt so sad for him.
I’m even feeling sad right now just thinking about it. I had no other option but to go
over and help him up. I picked up his broken glasses and took him to the school nurse where
I sat with him. That morning, he was my enemy, the one who had stolen my skateboard. A person
I never wanted to talk to again. But that afternoon, I found myself sitting by his side
comforting him with feelings of extreme sadness.
Another more recent example. Kim Jong-un is a dictator. He’s the epitome of modern-day
evil. Some of the stories I’ve read of what he’s done, I just can’t help but hate
the guy. But then a few weeks ago, there were some news reports of him dying during surgery.
You’d think I’d be happy, but I wasn’t. I honestly felt sad. I know, it’s messed
up. But that’s how I felt. I went from hating the guy one day, to almost mourning his death
the next. I honestly started feeling that none of what’s happened in North Korea is
his fault. He’s been caught between a rock and a hard place. If he doesn’t do what
the regime expect, he’s done. I mean, that could be true. He could be just the face of
the regime who has to behave exactly how he’s told. If he doesn’t, suddenly he has an
accident or his surgery goes wrong. Anyway, he’s not dead. He’s up to his old antics
again holding conferences on nuclear war.
So what does all this mean? I call myself a misanthrope, but I try my best to get on
with the other humans. I hate people for the littlest things one minute, but then feel
sorry for them the next. When people upset me, I hold resentment for years to come.
What’s wrong with me?
Is anything wrong with me?
Or am I just f***ed up in the head?