You’re Too Nice

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me.” Oh, really? Well, whoever wrote this little ditty, surely had never encountered an ex-boyfriend, ex-girlfriend, or ex-spouse.

Let’s rewind here, shall we? So, there I was, sitting in the public library using one of their time sensitive computers, when who happens to be sitting right next to me? My . . . I’m at a loss for words. I can’t say he was an ex-boyfriend, yet I can say he was more than a friend. At one point in my life, I cared deeply for this person. The feelings, however, were not mutual, and that’s OK, honestly. Not every connection is meant to be everlasting, and probably for good reason. Though I believe once a flame has been ignited it never truly dies. You just learn to live with the glowing embers and move on, which is exactly what I did. I am now happily married to my beautiful husband.

Where was I in the story? Oh, yes, so there I was sitting in my computer chair right next to his computer chair—a little too near for my comfort. Had he looked closely, he would have seen the rise of all my insecurities fluttering about like a thousand butterflies enveloping a field.

I have always been plagued by shyness, and anytime I was in the presence of this individual my internal hardware would seem to crash. Any hope for a coherent conversation was utterly impossible. I thought of things to say to him, both reasonable, kind, and humorous. But all that came out of my mouth was nonsense and gibberish. A word to the wise. Don’t ever try to tell a joke when you’re feeling insecure. Most especially around an ex.

I tried to regain my composure by preoccupying myself with the online classified ads. Then all of a sudden, and out of nowhere, an elderly woman sitting to our left made a comment to the air, hoping for it to land on a sympathetic ear. Something about how frustrating computers can be.

Well, I just happen to have an enlarged caring heart for the elderly and children alike. I rushed to her side as though I were an EMT responder. All that was necessary in order to put out the fire was some assistance in helping her to log on to the public library system. No CPR or wheelchair was needed. It felt so good being able to help this lady, that I would do so again in a heartbeat. Helping someone should make you feel energized and uplifted. That’s how you know your soul is in alignment with your actions. Versus experiencing a sense of resentment, or feeling drained and enervated.

As I walked back to my chair, my friend said to me, “You know what your problem is? You’re too nice.” Or something like that, but he distinctly said you’re too nice. And it wasn’t said in a complimentary manner. It was more like an indictment. Maybe I read him wrong, but no one wants to be called too nice. That’s like saying, “My what a cute little mouse you are.”

I turned to look at him, wanting to say something, but remained mute. I now wish I had said to his face, “I would rather err on the side of being too nice than err on the side of being too self-indulgent.” But nothing came out of my mouth. I sat there, being nice. I should have also said, “I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” and abruptly left.

Now, that’s not the whole truth either. He was a good person. He simply had a hard time allowing himself to be vulnerable. It’s ironic, for what we most try to hide is often most revealed. He continually tried to hide his vulnerability, which I believe is a way of avoiding intimacy. Yet, I saw through him and that was the person I cared about.

I left the library that day administering to the sting of his words. Too nice, indeed. I had half a mind of leaving a note with a saying by Aesop pinned to his windshield. “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” But I didn’t.

Fast forward several years later and six states removed, when his three words, “You’re Too Nice” came back to revisit me. This time they meant business, as evidenced by their leather carrying briefcases and corporate matching italicized bold print suits. It was a bit over the top, but it got my attention. This time, too, I was ready to admit that what he said that day in the library was true.

However, it wasn’t a simple case of being too nice that I suffered from. More accurately, it was that I did not possess appropriate boundaries with myself and others, including him. I think that is what he was trying to tell me in a roundabout way. One will never know.

My willingness to help the elderly woman that day was the right thing to do. My three visitors named You’re, Too, and Nice came back to point out that boundaries are an act of kindness as well, disguised in a different form. It is equally important to possess healthy boundaries (which is a sign of self-respect) as it is to offer kindness.

I will most likely never see this person again. Yet he had a profound effect on my life. Granted, my friend could have chosen softer words to convey his feelings; however, they were duly noted and are now a part of the tapestry of my life.

It is a fine balance learning to weave kindness with self respect. Both qualities are necessary in order to keep our hearts open and receptive. They also provide the framework for a healthy and meaningful life.

In the end, I walked away a better person from this whole exchange. I learned a great deal about myself, and along the way garnered a newly found sense of self-respect.