Thursday, 14 February 2013

On taking offence

I have thought a fair bit about this today, and I seriously do not believe I have been told I have offended anyone, apart from my father, since the age of 14.

I sort of assumed that "being offended" is something you, as an intelligent person, grow out of. Because you learn to name, untangle and trace your emotions better (anger, fear, sadness, jealousy). And you stop reacting to people dissing you, because their actions prove they are dicks & not worth your time.

I have this theory that "being offended" is not a real thing, unless you are a medieval knight. Or a Japanese samurai. Or eleven. Right?

My dad? Well, he has the emotional maturity of an aborted foetus. Not funny? Neither are his unpredictable mood swings with which he sort of terrorises people around him who want him to be happy. He gets offended easily, he holds grudges. He doesn't like spending any time analysing his own feelings. It takes a lot of patience and stamina to cope with him when he's in a bad mood because he will also be super negative about everything. And then he gets offended because I don't call him enough. Sigh.

Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

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