What I See

A few weeks ago, a frum periodical fielded a question—the writer's friend is "a bit much," and she finds her too draining. Can she withdraw? The magazine didn't really answer the question, I think. 

Two letters were printed in the following issue. One said that the writer should be honest, tell the friend her feelings, and the friend will totally understand (not likely, in my opinion). 

The other letter decried the modern mantra of "honesty" and "self-care" at the expense of hurting another, which she says is the antithesis of our faith (that's leaning more to my view). 

This example of how two people can look at a situation so differently has made me realize (yet again) how we cannot judge. People just see things from different perspectives. One viewpoint may be right—for that person. Another viewpoint might be wrong—for that person.  

For me, I have never learned properly how to keep a not-good friend at bay. I am not proud to say I may have resorted to ghosting for lack of better options. I could not be honest, because in essence I would be saying, "I do not enjoy your company, as there is something wrong with your personality." Sometimes two people just don't jive, like in shidduchim. 

Nowadays, perhaps I would try to make some boundaries. Pick up the phone when I feel like I can handle her, then say that I don't have much time to chat, ten minutes max. I thought it was amazing when I discovered I could say, "I'm sorry, I have to go," without giving any reason whatsoever.

Perhaps because it's the miserable time of year, but I've been thinking a lot about sinas chinam and whatnot. 

We all aren't the same. We all see the world differently. That's what happened by the Eitz HaDaas. Before, we could only see truth and falsehood, which are objective; now we see good and bad, which is subjective. My good is your bad; your good is my bad. 

It's not about honesty. It's about tolerance. It's about kindness.