How to heal the sting of a verbal attack

This post is part of a series of mentoring me–some helpful things we can do for ourselves to exude the good we are about.

It happens.

We’re confronted.

Accused.

Attacked.

Out of nowhere.

Sometimes when we’re completely doing our own thing but our thing appears to be violating someone else’s thing.

Case in point:

On a recent excursion I was accused of trespassing.

Here’s the setting:

It’s 6pm.

I’ve left an establishment where I’d made a purchase.

Store owner was closing up shop. Store owner gets into her vehicle and departs.

I do not yet move my vehicle. I open the door up, scoop up my dog and proceed to take him for a walk.

I’m gone 20 minutes.

I return to parking lot.

I put dog in car and get in and turn on the ignition.

With that, store owner’s car steams over to mine, perpendicular, brights on.

She’s honking.

I roll down window.

“What’s wrong?” I ask thinking something’s wrong with her engine and that perhaps she needs help.

She yells “You can’t stay on my property. You must leave.”

I was shocked at first and then angry, frustrated, and wellings up of “how dare she assume anything’s wrong” began for about two minutes UNTIL compassion took over my heart.

I stared at the entryway to her shop.

There’s a ton of items out for display.

Maybe she’s been vandalized before.

Maybe other weirdness has ensued in her parking lot.

Not sure.

But she was livid and intent on following me out of the parking lot.

I could feel my anger and frustration welling up so I pulled over about a block after her lot.

I resolved if she asked me what I was hanging out for I would politely let her know I wasn’t going to drive angry.

And then I started to work on my own thought.

What do I mean.

I mean I prayed. I meditated. I got completely clear on several facts:

Above all, harmony is the authority, always.

Whatever was causing this woman to feel angst or suspicious of my presence is the reality she’s choosing to live within.

I know that there’s nothing evil or malicious about my intent (it was a new town, I was navigating the neighborhood with a dog walk).

I was also mindful that if there were posted signs in the parking lot saying “no parking past 6pm” I did not see them.

I tucked up my heart long enough to calm down, defend my innocence.

But then I welled up with compassion.

Clearly this woman’s been wronged more than once to have that much suspicion.

She saw my dog.

She saw me walking him.

I’d met her earlier in the store and let her know I was new to the area and just appreciating the quaintness of the town.

Had she given me a moment to inquire about why I was walking around the town, I would have let her know I’d been on the road for 2 hours prior to happening upon her venue and my dog was in much need of a walk.

I would have let her know that her collection of antiques enabled me to relive some cherished childhood memories and that during my walk I was thinking about my grandparents and especially my grandmother’s genius as an interior decorator. I would have gladly let her know that as a young girl my grandmother and I spent summers scoping out barns throughout New England hoping to find the single relic from her childhood (she was always on a mission for dollhouses and rocking chairs).

But regrettably, whatever angst this store owner felt, her suspicion of my motives overshadowed her girlhood innocence that may have totally related to why someone lingers after experiencing a shop such as hers.

And while I felt saddened that she didn’t speak with me heart to heart, I thought more broadly:

Have I ever been suspicious of someone’s motives assuming the worst when in fact that individual is completely innocent?

Um. Yes.

Have I ever felt potentially taken advantage of by someone because of appearance or disposition?

Um, Yes.

But do I spend almost every waking moment striving to see the common humanity we each share and hold each to their innate innocence?

You bet.

It’s work I engage in constantly when I’m in the public.

It’s a state of thought I help clients learn to cultivate and exude in their day to day goings on.

No matter how many layers of titles, history, or emotions we each bring upon engaging with one another, we are each children at heart and we gravitate toward that which is good.

The next time — and there will be a next time — I venture out to this establishment, I will seek out the owner, apologize and let her know exactly why I lingered. She may not hear me or she may not care or she may have long forgotten. But her collection of memorabilia and wares is bound to nudge folks to ponder and think back.

I hope I get another chance to exchange with this owner.

I hope to tell her yet again how much I appreciated what she has to offer.

Perhaps in daylight she will be able to show me where the sign is posted no parking after hours.

But mostly? I hope I remember before I assume the worst with anyone, that everyone is walking their story, living their right now thoughts, and even if behavior seems questionable, common humanity begs me be compassionate.

None of us prefer to assume the worst.

So…in sum, tuck these steps up to help comfort your when you’re wrongfully accused:

1) Stay calm.

2) Affirm — in thought — your innocence.

3) Refrain from responding or reacting to the words being thrown at you.

4) Remove yourself from the setting and situation as quickly as possible.

5) Comfort your heart with reassurance.

6) Separate the attacker individual from his actions. (reminder: everyone is childlike and gravitates toward goodness).

7) Have compassion and realize that more than your actions triggered the response.

8) Work on ways that you can be more anticipating of good of others–ie: the next time you’re suspicious of someone, really ask why…and try to engage in a conversation with the individual.

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We are each walking around creating and extending the stories we’ve lived thusly.

Whether woman to woman or woman to man or man to man, we ought to strive to get to the heart of someone’s why. Common humanity deserves nothing less.