Whenever I face setbacks, I feel sad and don't know what to do. If I can hold back my tears, I try to. But if I can't, I cry for a long time — sometimes even half a day. When I think back about it later, it's always the same.
For example, a few years ago, there was a period of "unrequited feelings" that still feels absurd when I think about it now. But in that "fantasy" at the time, I thought no matter how much I gave, the other person would definitely understand. Perhaps we've all done this — bringing what we thought the other person liked to eat, memorizing their class schedule, waiting outside their building for them to finish class, thinking it was considerate, but actually it was a burden to them.
Or thinking that if someone talks to you every few days, replies quickly, and teases you with words of care, that must mean they're interested. But when they don't take the next step, and you finally speak up, only to be rejected with the ridiculous line "I think you're great, but she's even better," and they don't even realize they've already made you angry.
Beyond romance, life is made up of many different emotions intertwined to create our moments, just like in "The Courage to Be Disliked," which constantly emphasizes one concept: "All problems come from interpersonal relationships." I first read this book over three years ago, and after pondering it, I still find it profound. "Everything has a purpose" — this means a person choosing to be angry isn't actually about anger; it might be wanting to show "I have power," to be "superior" and able to lose their temper at others, or to mask "embarrassment" or "shame," instead choosing to transform it into anger and rage to blame others.
The person being criticized will naturally feel defeated, because you and the other person have different levels of understanding about what happened and how it unfolded. You're even unfamiliar with each other's personalities and working styles, yet someone will always interpret the same event using their own thoughts.
To give an example, working in media, we encounter major events that need to be covered from different angles. When I was an editor a few years ago, there was a long post from the person involved — over five thousand words — covering different perspectives including their daughter's death, emergency rescue, medical issues, and bullying. Because I published the news later and it was my first piece, I thought I was being thoughtful by briefing colleagues on the angles I hadn't yet covered, organizing them for everyone to "reference." But within ten minutes, I received instruction from a "senior" who said "This will make people feel like they should write according to your direction." Although I explained I was just helping everyone with the handover, she still said this action was "meddling," and if someone wanted to write, they should read the full article themselves.**
I panicked at the moment, so I deleted the handover notes. But thinking about it later, even if I had outlined those angles, others could still choose to read the full text and write according to their own thoughts. Yet some people would deliberately distort my intentions, only thinking this behavior was trying to "overstep authority," essentially worried their power was being threatened.
During that period, I felt like everything I did was wrong. I wanted to perform well, but worried about being misunderstood. I wanted to do more, but feared others would gossip. I even developed a mentality of "you just want me to know I can never win against you" and gave up. So every time I opened my eyes, I cried, and cried, hiding under the blanket refusing to leave my room, skipping lunch, living in a daze, lying in bed scrolling through my phone until just before work, when I'd finally get up and prepare myself to face all those troubling things.
"All problems come from interpersonal relationships." I was young then and didn't know how to express myself. I even believed what some coworkers said — that it was best not to bring things into the open. So no matter how much unfair treatment I received, I never told my supervisor or friendlier colleagues, making everyone think my personality was becoming more and more gloomy. After changing environments and years passing, I discovered that all these past pains and hurts had become the nourishment for my growth.
A good mentor told me: "Some past experiences are like scabs — no matter how much you pick, they won't bleed." I no longer dwell on this much now, because while I continuously push myself forward, the other person remains stagnant following others. While I try to change myself and force myself to grow, they're still chasing petty gains. Looking back, those moments I thought were wounds have become a kind of "reassembly" for me — letting conflicts and impacts break me down and piece me back together, creating space for me to grow and change.
Because one person's lack of understanding of you doesn't mean the whole world misunderstands you. I once heard the saying: "People respect you because they are excellent." When you hear sarcastic remarks or encounter people who try to personally attack you while pretending they haven't, or those who one-sidedly think you're selfish and unreasonable — when you choose respect, patience, and explanation in that moment, and are unwilling to confront them directly, it's because we understand how to give others room to maneuver. It doesn't mean they are right.
