Look at my smile. I’m back in the office one day a week, and I’m excited. I’m interrupting everyone’s work to chat because 1) it’s Ramadan and every Muslim needs the distraction from being at home around their very seductive coffee maker, and 2) I’ve generally not been around people inside during any extended period of time for over two years. It’s wild, and I’m grateful for all of it.

Last I was sat in Bridgehead, I was too busy eavesdropping to smile so widely; the two individuals next to me were simply not having it with each other or, I would hazard the guess, anyone around them.

Individual #1 (1) kept repeating that they needed Thing A from Individual #2 (2); 2 kept repeating that they were doing precisely this Thing A which 1 kept saying they were not doing.

I waited for the question to come, but before it did, 1 decided to tap out of the conversation and hit the road, Jack. 2 sat befuddled, and I became distracted by whatever was shinier.

What’s the question for which I was waiting? Thanks for asking, Rat Bastards.

The question was Since I believe that I am doing Thing A, and you can’t see that I’m doing Thing A, then what would you need to see in order to know and feel comfortable with the fact that I am in fact Doing Thing A?

Which may very well be the least asked, yet the most relevant question there is inside of a conflict discussion centering needs of different parties.

Everyone speaks their own language, and through their individual eyeballs views the world differently than every other individual around them, including sets of twins. Simply, what is bland to me, may prove too spicy for another, and Human actions are far more complex and complicated than what we might think are simple taste buds (though they are certainly anything but simple, our taste buds).

I’m always surprised that most of us have come to acknowledge and accept that there are many different love languages, and challenge in a relationship often comes when those within the relationship express love differently. Me, I am primarily quality time, and then all of the other four are quick on its heels because I am someone ALWAYS excited about love received and love given, in any and all forms. (All but acts of service, which rarely even registers on my radar.)

Now. If we’ve all reached the point where we accept different love languages, why do we struggle to accept that we also have different conflict resolution languages? (c)

Do you know your conflict resolution language? I don’t yet have a label for mine, but it’s a lot of communication. Like, a shit ton. I am cautious and very measured, but I express every single bit of the thing which got me to where I am in my head, and then I repeat it 12 different ways, and ask the individual to turn in a thesis on Why Maha Is Sadness, to make sure they get it. Because if they don’t understand, my unhinged A-Type brain then makes itself responsible for the confusion of the person before me. (Is this because I am a woman in love with words, or because I have anxiety about miscommunication from others before which I have in the past stood? You decide.)

Either way, between how I approach communication, and what Ghaida has labelled my “Witchy Senses”, this is why I am a nightmare for men who attempt to gaslight.

Back to present, where I’m just a girl sitting in her coffee shop, madly typing at her laptop, asking you to please take the above question and place it into every single one of your back pockets moving forward. But only if you want a simple way of making all of our lives easier and gentler, please and thank you.

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