Hidden Expectations

I've known for some time that I'm not very good at letting people know my wants and needs. Or even, in some cases, to know what my wants or needs are myself.

When I was growing up I was encouraged "not to make a fuss". As a timid and unconfident child I developed an inability to talk about what I actually wanted. When I tried it seemed like it was always overruled anyway by someone louder or more determined than me so it all seemed pointless.

In an adult, however, this behaviour exhibits as passive aggressive. Which isn't a label I like, but probably fits what was going on in my head. I would hint, and I might joke, or get sarcastic, and if I'm not listened to I sulk and get more and more twisted in my brain. I want to yell and get very angry about not being listened to. I imagine confrontations and escalations, threats and negotiations. What actually happens is I burst into tears in a fit of emotion, and break up, break off, and otherwise leave the building/relationship/environment. Most of the angst existed only inside my head and my behaviour was often a mystery to those around me.

It is sometimes a mystery to me that being "easy-going" seems to be something that is important to me. Attempting to be easygoing made me, at various times, desperately unhappy.

Its also a mystery to me that its taken to at least my mid-thirties to start to have real honest conversations, without the angst. It is thanks to my workplace which, as part of my learning and development included ZIP training (which is not just about safety), coaching, and LSI and MBTI (INTJ if you're interested) training.  I can't thank my work enough as its triggered me on a journey to look more closely at those uncomfortable thoughts inside my brain.

Those uncomfortable thoughts have been close to the surface lately.  I took on my ex-neighbour as a temporary flatmate. He had not managed to find a rental after selling his house next door and needed a room. He's not a very compatible flatmate at the outset - a 52 year old Jamaican Brit working as a builder. He was desperate and he had been a good neighbour to me over the last few years. He said he was having problems renting a place as he worked on a site which didnt give him an opportunity to get to viewings during the week. Ok, sure, I said. Lets give this a whirl on a temporary basis until he found a place. We agreed on a price for rent and I gave him a bank account number and the WiFi password.

A few days later it was evident that we had different understandings of his problems finding a rental. He didnt seem to be working, apparently because of tennis elbow in one arm. So he was home, all morning, all day, and all night, shut inside the second bedroom at my place. He rarely left. Infrequently he would go out in the evenings and not get in til 4am. I was off sick for a couple of days early on and struggled with the black hole that existed in my house.  I didn't feel like I had the peace of having my own house to myself anymore, even occasionally. More importantly I felt lied to and manipulated. I suspected he wasn't going to find a place with the amount of effort he was putting in.

By day three I realised I was going to get bitter and twisted about it. So I took action. When he was out in the kitchen I raised expectations. "I'm concerned that we might have different expectations of temporary". I managed not to get stuck into over-analysis of his house-rental strategies which is easily rebutted and stuck to "I think I'm going to get angry at you - and I dont want to get angry with you. So I'd like to set a deadline".  He listened with a resigned look and then headed back to his room.

That deadline is Wednesday this week, three weeks after we last talked about it. We've had two further serious conversations since last night. One saying "Please get cash out for rent, its been three weeks and I'm getting pretty tetchy about it". He headed straight out at 10:30 at night and got the cash. The second was this evening where he, of his own initiative, sought to clarify what day I was expecting him to leave. I managed to stick to the "This isn't working for me" line and "It was September 30th" and when he professed to be unsure when that was said "Its Wednesday". He walked away, back to his room again.

This sounds simple and straight forward but its so much more complicated inside my head! I don't know what its like trying to rent a place. I dont know what he's done to try to find a place - I only know its pretty hard to find a place when you barely leave the house in the weekends. Is he depressed? Probably. Do I want to help? Of course I do. But I can't save him from the realities of his life. Staying here has not helped him - he's worked maybe two or three days over the three weeks. He rarely leaves the house. I'm perplexed that I'm so opposed to him not working. Should it matter if he is unemployed? It seems I resent that he gets to sit in my home relaxing and reading and internetting while I work all day. In theory I hate to think I discriminate against the unemployed but it seems that I do.

My brain has created all manner of scenarios on dealing with those three conversations - the one about setting a deadline, the one about making sure I got the rent I was owed, the one about confirming clearly my expectations for him to move out. My imaginary conversations were filled with tension and arguments and negotiations. I'm relieved to find these conversations, conducted clearly and without blame, are much less stressful than the ones in my imagination. Best of all, I'm actually being listened to.