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The Miscommunication That Destroys Relationships

‘Want to borrow a jack?’

Photo by BoHang Lee on Unsplash

“Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love is lost.” ― Khalil Gibran

Hello, and welcome to the Hope, Healing and Humour newsletter. How have all of you been? I trust you’re all in good health, and that there is love, kindness and good food around you. I hope you have all found reasons for hope and healing, and that humour is part of your life.

It’s winter in Melbourne, and bracingly cold. The air is fresh, autumn leaves are still drifting lazily down, and the magpies and crested pigeons have put in place their own orchestra. In between, they are joined by the butcher bird and the kookaburra.

The evenings are a good time for mulled wine, at the Queen Victoria Night Market. Or blood-red Shiraz at home. Or, my personal favourite, chilled, creamy Bailey’s Irish Cream.

And for the wonderful absolutely delicious omelette my husband makes. Light brown on the outside, soft and fluffy inside, with onions, tomatoes, and bird’s eye chilly within a veritable pocket of decadent taste. There are also things he does with butter and cheese, which I don’t know about. Or wish to know. It comes to me, steaming gently on a platter, and I sigh, and taste, and sigh again.

The following story is written by J.P. McEvoy and first published in the Reader’s Digest in the 1950’s. I had read it when I was a wee bairn, and later, when I was a school-going lass.

A fellow was speeding down a country road late at night and BANG! went a tire. He got out and looked and drat it he had no jack. Then he said to himself. “Well, I’ll just walk to the nearest farmhouse and borrow a jack!” He saw a light in the distance and said, “Well, I’m in luck; the farmer’s up. I’ll just knock on the door and say I’m in trouble, would you please lend me a jack? And he’ll say, why sure, neighbor, help yourself — but bring it back.”

He walked on a little farther and the light went out, so he said to himself, “Now he’s gone to bed and he’ll be annoyed because I’m bothering him- so he’ll probably want some money for his jack. And I’ll say, all right, it isn’t very neighborly — but I’ll give you a quarter. And he’ll say, do you think you can get me out of bed in the middle of the night and then offer me a quarter? Give me a dollar or get yourself a jack somewhere else.”

By that time the fellow had worked himself into a lather. He turned into the gate and muttered. “A dollar! All right, I’ll give you a dollar. But not a cent more! A poor devil has an accident and all he needs is a jack. You probably won’t let me have one no matter what I give you. That’s the kind of guy you are.”

Which brought him to the door and he knocked — angrily, loudly. The farmer stuck his head out the window above the door and hollered down, “Who’s there? What do you want?” The fellow stopped pounding on the door and yelled up, “You and your damn jack! You know what you can do with it!”

And there, the story ends, my friends.

It has impressed itself on my mind so strongly, and so surely, that whenever I am overthinking, (which is frequently!) I ask myself, “Do you want to borrow a Jack, Suma?”

This is what oftentimes happens in communication, and miscommunication. We overthink things so much that a perfectly natural “Good morning! And how are you today?” can turn into a death threat. What if you are the kind of person, who reads meaning into every little word, gesture, or nuance?

Instead of replying in the same vein, if you were to ask yourself:

1. What does she mean?
2. She was smiling at me. Does that mean something? She didn’t smile at me like that last week!
3. She said ,” how are you today?” Does she know I was not sick, when I pretended to be, to get out of work last week?

And on and on, until a simple greeting is rendered sinister and unwelcome. And the next time you see this friendly, sociable person, you turn your back on her, or cross to the other side to avoid meeting her. The person, seeing what you did, is hurt and mortified, wondering what she did to merit such a reaction.

But do either of you talk it out, meet each other, discuss it? No. And so, one possibly beautiful friendship is nipped in the bud, not allowed to flower, owing to suspicion and overthinking.

How many times has this happened to you?

Take this scenario, for instance:

You send in a story to a pub on Medium.

It’s a story that you took some time to write, and are rather proud of. You send it in, maybe, on the morning of Friday. The editor lives in another part of the world. Or, there are many editors, but she’s the only one who works. She thinks they will do the needful just this once, but they have more important things to do. Saturday and Sunday are usually busy for all people.

Friday goes by. Saturday passes. Sunday comes and goes. Your Monday morning is probably her Sunday night. And all the time, all the time, you are telling yourself, ‘she doesn’t value my contribution/ she doesn’t respect me/ she doesn’t think my story worth her while/ she would have published it in a jiffy if A,B or C had written it’ et cetera ad nauseam.

And finally, you snap, and say, ‘all right! If you don’t want me, I don’t want you either! So there!” You withdraw your submission, and send it in elsewhere. And somebody on the other side of the world is wondering where that exquisite story by one of her favourite Medium writers, has disappeared to…

How many times have we been guilty of just such overthinking? And how many times have we broken off ties with bewildered people who don’t know what hit them, for no fault of theirs?

All it requires, is to ask. To message. To send a ‘private note’. Isn’t it better to know, than to let doubt multiply and cause misery? Often, there’s a perfectly plausible explanation.

All we have to ask, is, ‘have I done something wrong?’ Or even, ‘is everything alright with you?’

Has this happened to you? Were you ever at the receiving end of baseless suspicion? Have you been guilty of overthinking yourself out of a good relationship? Have you suspected someone needlessly, and been too afraid, to ask, and find out the truth?

Do you want to borrow a jack? Is everything alright with you?

These are the wonderful stories written by my favourite people, and stars of the Hope, Healing and Humour pub. Thank you for being part of my journey, and of the pub. I appreciate you:

Daniel Ng describes the courage of trusting again, and of re connecting to the people who mattered, in his life:

[embed]A Two-Week Work Trip Taught Me I Can be Human Again I lived like a zombie for the last twelve monthsmedium.com

Sujona Chatterjee speaks of the hope that infuses the smallest of things, and of the strength required to face the everyday reality of being a woman:

[embed]The Strength Behind the Silence: What PMS Really Feels Like This too shall passmedium.com

[embed]Hope Lives in the Smallest of Things Here are three things that pulled me back from the edgemedium.com

Maria Rattray, with her usual compassion and subtle humour narrates the story of a motherless child who goes on to become a strong human being, and a valuable part of society, helped by his teacher:

[embed]Always Late to the Party And much the same when applying for a job he really covetedmedium.com

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