I’ve always been a curious person. My mother used to tell me that as a kid I asked questions non-stop. Her friends asked her why she kept replying to me instead of telling me to lay off the questions. But she never did. She is a real patient mother.

I don’t do something unless I can see the logic behind it. In my household, all rules were explained as opposed to forcefully applied. Since I was a pretty responsible little kid, I never had a curfew. I went to an all women’s high school where I was on debate teams. I’ve just always been in a position where I feel comfortable backing up my actions and choices and thoughts. Mostly cause I spend time thinking of my choices and have reasons for my decisions. It could even be safe to say that I spend too much time thinking about them.

For this reason, when challenged I tend to be too head strong. I feel like I can justify myself and I expect others to back up their arguments, too. When Jake and I fight and I say something, I can always spew out a million examples to make sure he understands where I’m coming from. But I’m sure he hates it.

At work, timid people think I am overwhelming cause I like to explore an issue before I make a decision and I am generally adamant about my opinion and like for others to prove me wrong before I change my mind. For confident and intelligent people, that’s not a problem. They tell me what a moron I am and why my idea is totally wrong. I really like that. I have no problem being told that I don’t know the right answers, I just want the other person to prove me wrong. I want them to have thought about it, too. I want them to challenge me not to tell me what to do for the sake of it. If the highest manager in my area says I have to do something and I think it’s a stupid suggestion, I don’t shy away from telling him. I’m not usually rude about it, but I also don’t nod and go to a corner and do as he said. And it says so much about my boss that he doesn’t fire me. Actually he’s mentioned that he likes that about me.

The problem is that I don’t like the idea of the other people (the ones who don’t feel comfortable yelling back at me) to think that I am not open to listening to their suggestions. Cause I am. The only way one can learn is by listening to other people. I just want them to explain how and why they reached that opinion and in most cases they either don’t know or they don’t want to share.

Or maybe I’ve managed to scare the crap out of them.

Previously? Changes Abound

If you read six’s page, you may have noticed his recent note on self acceptance and telling other people your opinions.

As in most things, I have quite a few things to say about that.

I’ve always been opinionated. I used to think that certain choices just feel right to me, but when questioned, I seem to have no problem coming up with well thought out reasons to back up my beliefs. So it seems I do think about things.

I am not exactly sure of the ways in which I come up with my opinions and beliefs. Some of them are intuition, others are from having read on issues and some are from having talked to friends who have opinions. I find the final way the most effective.

There is nothing more challenging and more rewarding than talking to an intelligent friend whose opinions differ from yours. When I was in college, I had a friend who disagreed with me on just about everything. He was really bright and had sound reasons for his beliefs. We spent hours talking about abortion and marriage and many other controversial issues.

His reasons made me think, in some cases they made me reconsider. In others, they made me hang on to my beliefs even more. But the best part is that our conversations challenged me. They made me see these issues from a different perspective.

When I was in high school we used to have to debate in class on topics where we didn’t agree with the opinion we were arguing for. The teacher thought it was important to realize that there are two sides to every story and nothing is ever black or white. She was a good teacher.

So if you have opinions, I say speak up. Learning starts with sharing. Wise people will never flame you for having a different view, especially when you have your reasons. And narrow-minded people will always judge you and tell you you’re a moron for thinking that way no matter how well constructed your reasoning. Such people are not worth worrying about.

I’m always up for others challenging my beliefs and choices. Anything that pushes me to explain myself helps me get to know myself better.

And you know what they always say: Know thyself.

Prevously? Trust.

I’ve always been really bad at letting go.

I’m not sure which specific childhood experience has spawned this personality trait, but I’ve had it pretty much for as long as I can remember. When I was little, I used to be one of those girls who hung on to her mother’s skirt and cried a lot. As I grew up, I yearned for a close friend, one who understood my way of thinking. Having starved for any friend at all, each time anyone became remotely interested in being my friend, I would stifle the life out of them. Guilt trips, paranoia, “why didn’t s/he call me?”, “how come they didn’t invite me along? Don’t they like me anymore?” All of these were a constant part of my daily life.

The behavior wasn’t aimed at only humans. Even our dog, Pepsi, knew I needed more hugs than a normal kid. And if you’re suffocating a dog (in the figurative sense) you seriously need help. (then again, you’d need even more help if you’re actually physically hurting the dog, if you ask me)

For the longest time, while I was acutely aware of this flaw, I didn’t think I’d ever learn to get over it. Each boyfriend had to suffer through my jealousy and my need to be called at all times. I’ve always believed that jealousy stems from lack of self-confidence. If you feel good about who you are, you tend to bug other people less. Even though I knew the actual reasons, I kept telling myself that all this suffocating was cause I cared so much.

Knowing I was so bad at letting go always made me worry about having children. I was sure that my kids would grow up to despise me and run away the minute they legally could. The same insecurities also caused me to hang around when I shouldn’t have in many cases. Holding on to a relationship which was physically and emotionally abusive or a friendship that reduced my already low self-image.

I don’t know if my self-confidence has improved (not substantially) or if I care less (not really, in most cases) but, for some reason, I’ve stopped holding on so tight. I don’t feel the need to have my friends call me every day. I don’t hold people to their words when they casually say “I’ll call you later.” I don’t need constant attention anymore.

I don’t mean to say that I am 100 percent cured. I still care, in some cases, way more than I should. I still have long-lasting moments of self doubt which cause me to snap at my boyfriend. But I’ve recently realized that I’ve loosened up a little, which means there is a chance I can totally get rid of this trait, eventually.

Maybe I can have kids, after all.

Previously? Blame Game.

Heather’s link to what she wants made me think about my first few months in the United States.

For some reason, I didn’t have many culture shocks. Even though Turkey is over 99percent white and over 99percent Muslim, I didn’t seem to have a severe issue with the differences. I did, on the other hand, have some embarrassing moments.

On my first day in Pittsburgh, my parents and I went to open a bank account. While my mother waited, Dad and I sat with the lady from Mellon Bank, talking about my different account options. In the middle of our exchange, some random guy, who was opening his own account, walks up to me and says, “I hear you’re new in town, so am I. Here’s my number. Call me and we can hang out.” Right in front of my father and the Mellon Bank woman. The lady from the bank looks at me and smiles. “I see you’re making some friends already.”

Cause I am a total weirdo, I did call the guy the next night. During the phone call, he must have used the word cool at least a zillion times. Up until that moment, the word cool meant something between warm and cold to me. It took me several months to acquire the colloquialisms they never teach you when you learn English. Most of my friends can tell quite entertaining (or embarrassing, as the case may be for me) stories from those days.

Back to my point. One of the only culture shock moments I had was in relation to the words on that T-shirt. Personal space. I come from a country where guys and girls all kiss each other hello. I mean guys kiss guys and girls kiss girls and girls kiss guys and vice versa. Not on the lips, mind you, but on the cheek. On both cheeks. I walk hand in hard with many of my friends. I hug them, I tell my close friends how much I love them. It’s not a sexual thing, it’s cultural, I guess. When I came here for college, I was totally shocked by what people consider a personal question. And by how much people resent your being ‘in their space’. For the longest time I couldn’t figure out what that space even is. It seemed to be an invisible barrier I was unable to see.

In the past few years, I’ve worked hard at recognizing the barrier, but I still have no idea why people need to have it so badly.

Previously? Mind Your Manners!