Newsletter Reflections

How We Let Someone Else’s Behavior Dictate Our Own

My niece recently broke up with her boyfriend. He didn’t take it well and posted some unkind things about her on social media. Her reaction was to start planning revenge.

It was a little disconcerting to hear because my niece is a good kid. She’s not someone who typically lashes out at other people. But in this circumstance, she wanted to. She even felt justified in doing so.

You could chalk that up to teenage drama. But a few years ago, I watched a friend respond similarly in an adult situation. Some family members had been treating her poorly for a while. Eventually, she resorted to just treating them poorly in return.

Both situations point to something many of us do: allow another person’s behavior to dictate our own. When we feel wronged, disrespected, rejected, or hurt, our instinct is often to protect ourselves and regain a sense of power. We may tell ourselves we’re imposing justice, establishing a boundary, or just evening the score.

We can end up behaving in ways that are out of character and contrary to our values, and feeling completely justified because the other person started it.

There’s a reason that impulse can be so compelling. When we perceive a social threat or injury, our brains can respond quickly and emotionally. Anger helps mobilize us to defend ourselves. Striking back, becoming cold, or responding in kind can temporarily restore a sense of agency when someone has made us feel powerless.

But there’s a paradox in that response. In trying to regain power from someone who treated us badly, we can hand them the power to pull us away from our own character and values.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t respond to poor treatment. Sometimes a relationship needs to end. A boundary needs to be established. Anger needs to be expressed. We can protect ourselves, hold someone accountable, and make difficult choices without adopting behavior we wouldn’t otherwise respect in ourselves.

The challenge is finding a response that protects us while still allowing us to remain aligned with our values. That can be especially difficult when hurt or anger is overtaking our emotions.

Creating some space before responding can help us reclaim that choice. We might ask ourselves: If this person hadn’t behaved badly, would I still believe this is an acceptable way for me to behave? Am I protecting myself, or am I trying to make them feel what they made me feel? And perhaps most importantly, who do I want to be in this situation?

Those questions don’t determine what boundary to set or what consequence is appropriate. They simply help ensure that whatever we choose is actually our choice rather than a reaction someone else effectively chose for us.

Wayne Dyer captured this beautifully: “How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.”

We generally don’t get to choose how others treat us. We also don’t get to choose our immediate emotional response. But we do have a say in what happens next.

Real power isn’t making someone else hurt because they hurt us. Nor is it tolerating hurtful behavior. It’s protecting what needs to be protected without handing someone else control over the kind of person we become in response.

Affirmation: I protect my power by responding in ways that honor who I am.

The Gift of Telling Someone the Impact They've Had

A friend I hadn’t talked to for a while reached out recently. During our conversation, he told me that I had been an important influence in his life and described how.

It was a beautiful moment. I was moved, humbled, and deeply grateful that he shared that with me. He gave me something I couldn't have known on my own: a glimpse of the impact my life had on his.

It brought to mind a period in my life several years ago when I decided to let some people know the impact they had on me. It wasn’t simply about expressing gratitude. These were people who had unknowingly supported or shaped me in important and consequential ways. They had given me intangible gifts, and I wanted to give them a gift in return.

Most of us go through life without knowing the full impact we have on others. We know what we say and do, but we rarely get to see all the ripple effects.

Unlike George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, we don’t get a Clarence who shows us how the world is different because we are in it. We may never know that something we said gave someone confidence when they needed it, that our encouragement affected a decision they made, or that something we modeled helped shape the person they became.

But we each have the ability to be a little bit of a Clarence for someone else.

When we know that someone has significantly affected our life, we possess information about their life that they don't. We can tell them: This is what you did for me. This is what changed because of you. This is something in my life that might not be here if you hadn't been part of it.

That's very different from simply saying thank you.

It gives someone the opportunity to understand a ripple they created but didn't witness. And with that comes something most of us probably don't receive often enough—the knowledge that our presence in this world has mattered.

Writing those letters years ago was meaningful for me, too. There was something powerful about identifying exactly what another person had given me and recognizing how it continued to live in my life. Sharing it created a sense of connection that gratitude alone doesn't quite capture.

So think of someone who helped shape who you became. Someone who changed a direction, believed in you at an important moment, showed you a different way of seeing things, or gave you something that became part of who you are.

Then write them a letter. Tell them specifically what they gave you and what became different because of it.

They may have no idea.

And what a beautiful gift it would be to let them know.

Affirmation: I give others the gift of knowing the difference they have made in my life.

Finding Enough Quiet to Hear What We Already Know

I was thrown into a tizzy earlier this week. Someone was pressuring me to do something that would financially benefit me. While that seemed appealing on the surface, I was concerned about what it might cost me in other ways.

So I did what many of us do when faced with a difficult decision: I solicited opinions. Some friends steered me toward the financial gain while others encouraged me to protect my peace.

I hate to admit how much I got in my head about it. Meditation helped me start untangling my mixed emotions, but the thing that finally brought me back to myself was a friend who said something like, "I'm looking at your face as you talk about this, Denise. And if you could see it, you'd have your answer."

I felt my expression. It wasn't good.

That snapped me out of my tailspin.

The truth was, I'd had an answer from the beginning. I knew my initial reaction, but instead of giving it proper consideration, I'd placed layers of analysis on top of it in an effort to make the most "logical" choice.

I don't think I'm alone in doing this. We gather facts, make lists, solicit opinions, and analyze potential outcomes. Those are all useful tools. But sometimes there's a point when thinking something through becomes thinking ourselves away from what we already know. 

Part of the problem with seeking advice is that people naturally view our decisions through the lens of their own lives. Their perspectives can help us see things we've missed, but they're often filtered through their priorities, experiences, fears, and values rather than ours.

And even advice that’s offered with our values in mind can get lost when we're too caught up in our own mental noise. 

Facts and data have limitations too. They can tell us what we'll gain financially, how much time something will require, or which option appears safest. They can't tell us what the choice will cost our spirit, whether it aligns with the life we desire, or which tradeoffs we're personally willing to make.

That's where our inner knowing deserves a voice.

That doesn't mean our first instinct is always right. Fear, habit, and resistance can speak loudly too. But our internal response is information worth exploring rather than something to rationalize away.

Ironically, the friend who helped me most wasn't the one who gave me the best advice. She didn't tell me what to do at all. She simply reflected back what I'd been too busy thinking to see.

There's value in seeking wisdom from others. There's value in logic and careful analysis. But ultimately, we have to be careful not to outsource our own knowing.

Sometimes the best guidance doesn't give us an answer. It clears away enough noise for us to hear our own.

Affirmation: I give my inner knowing a voice in my decisions.