Some time ago, my mother bought me a heel file. I’m not sure why, as I never asked for one. In fact, it hadn’t even crossed my mind to own such a thing. But you know how it is—mothers always seem to know what’s best to have around the house, so it’s easier to just accept and not question it. At one point, when I tried to use it, I encountered the very rough side and ended up hurting myself. I wasn’t paying attention, that’s true.
Had I examined it a bit, I would have noticed that one side is very fine, while the other is rough, like sandpaper.
I’ve met people just like this file. When you encounter their unpolished, rough, prickly side, you instinctively step back for a while. You want to take a moment to examine, to understand, to reposition yourself; then, when you approach them again, you do it discreetly, cautiously, alert, tiptoeing, so as not to awaken any demons. Imaginary demons, really, because most of these people are, in fact, extremely sensitive and vulnerable. The impression that they’re made of something akin to the rough heel file comes from the protective layer they’ve built around themselves, precisely to avoid being hurt. Perhaps we all have such protective layers, but we’re all at different stages of dealing with them and managing them differently.
If you have the patience to see their sensitive, bright side, you might be amazed. If you adjust your behavior to give them space to reveal themselves, you might gain a friend.
My invitation is to be more patient, more empathetic, to leave our labels behind, and to become more curious about what lies beneath the surface of a person.