Exchange of Realities

You wouldn’t know that they’re hurting. It’s not visible, like a limp or a scar; they’re too proud for that. They’ve modulated their voices so the choke goes away, convinced themselves it doesn’t really matter well enough to fool you, and though they’ve voiced their objections, it didn’t seem like something that was all that important.

And yet it matters.

It doesn’t even seem too rational to you. What are birthdays, when you stopped caring about yours long ago? What is the end of a romance, when you’re still friends and you can still get together and talk often, just without that word changing expectations of you? Why does she care if she’ll never be able to teach someone her signature power; wouldn’t that make her less unique anyway? Who wigs out over a character who only showed up in one episode/session/chapter, anyway? Even they might intellectually consider it irrational, even beneath them, and make that clear.

And yet it matters.

Sometimes, if you look carefully, you can tell who they are. Their words imply acceptance, but the tone is sharp, like they’re throwing it as far away as they can. They change the subject easily, almost quickly. Somehow, though, it tends to come tangentially back to the issue—not deliberately, mind you, or at least if it is, they won’t admit it, just exhibit an embarrassed behavior and change the subject back again. And of course, if they even admit to caring, they make it clear that it shouldn’t bother them.

And yet it matters.

Writers love them, because of what they are. They’re foreshadowing, they’re drama. Whatever it is, it’s going to be plot-important, or at least the character’s reaction is likely to be plot-important. There are multiple ways other characters can react to them; degrees of dismissal or acceptance, agreement or disagreement with the “It doesn’t matter” or “It shouldn’t matter to me” (or combinations of the above; that can get interesting).

Gamers have more trouble with them, since they’re supposed to differentiate character from player. Often, people see really strong channeling as a sign of weakness, after all, and really strong channeling is generally looked down on with a “Come ON, it’s just a game” or an injunction to quit blending worlds together. But that increases the “shouldn’t”, and the “shouldn’t” is just as much of a problem for this kind of person as the problem itself. Nobody likes being irrational.

After all, it matters. Why else would they feel so strongly?

How do you make this conflict last? Try to prove to them that it doesn’t matter and more importantly shouldn’t matter to them. Ignore the problem in hopes that it will go away. Make the problem about you—and that’s the easiest trap for anyone, real or fictional, to fall into, to try to turn the other person’s hurt into their failure or affront. Things like that can turn even a minor misunderstanding into a major conflict. Worse is when you’re the one who exacerbates the conflict in one of these ways, then expect the one so affronted to be the one to apologize first. Do that, and it may never end.

How do you end the conflict quickly? I find the fastest way is to begin by agreeing with the idea that it matters to them. “That must be really painful for you”, or variations thereon. “This must be important to you.” Preferably with a “And that’s ok” added. A lot of what they’re doing right now is taking one for the team because they feel that’s necessary, and then being angry at themselves for resenting doing so. Keep that in mind; acceptance may not be the One True Answer to these problems, but it’ll do a lot for the person dealing with them.

It matters. When everyone agrees it matters, a lot of the problem can take care of itself.