I was the queen of feedback. Though this type of communication can be defined and practiced easier in profesional contexts, where emotions and old paterns are not as common.

I embraced feedback as a rebellion, because my childhood was defined by discretion and not stirring the pot.

There is something to be said by holding one’s tongue more often than not. We often don’t have all the facts yet and it’s best to approach with cautious curiosity rather than thunder your opinion or slighted feelings.

I did that. Out of an overly sense of respect for my host. I was feeling exhausted and did not fully trust my emotions, wondering if I see things clearly or rightfully so. I kept my mouth shut. But a few weeks laters I burst at the seams with tears. I felt crushed and emotionally constipated. I had a choice to make. Keep the peace and give up the relationship. Or say something.

There is a sense of trust or bravery when we step out to be vulnerable and ask for clarification. Needing something hurts me to the core. Being vulnerable or weak is uncomfortable. Feedback is not the same when you are in a position of power or independence. But relationships are by definition codependent.

So how can we speak the truth? When? With what expectations?

After a long time I had to rely on my husband to mediate a certain clarification. I couldn’t care less about micromanaging the response. I was too tired, too hurt.

Now back to my culture, family or origin, cultural familiarity for better or worse. It brings up certain things in us. We learned to cope here, but it’s not necessarily easier or better. I do speak up sooner because I realize it’s harder to backtrack. And thus I may come across as too direct. But here I rarely rely on my husband to mediate any of my relationships. I am in fact the mediator.

My dad picked us up from the airport. And though he could have pulled right up to load our luggage, we had to walk across the main road and a distance away. A strap broke on Conrad’s heavy luggage just before getting to the car. The distance was not that great. Shorter than the parking lot walk in Austin but we didn’t have a rolling large luggage. We were tired from having traveled for the last 20 hours. And slightly grumpy I guess. The meeting at the airport experience was different that in Austin. But in cluj we were just coming home. It’s winter. And we are less expressive with our enthusiasm and joy. I told tata that it would have been better to enter into the airport parking lot just to load the luggage. Also, In the car I asked him to keep a constant acceleration rather than lifting his foot every second because it creates a certain car motion that gets the girls carsick.

Two strikes for someone who came to pick us up. And my dad is the least confortabile with being corrected. He accepts it from me but it pains him. He was more hurt by Conrad’s grumpy mood upon arrival, or maybe he read into it because I corrected him.

But if there is one thing I learned on this trip: to have the grace to accept feedback, makes you more approachable and easy to talk to. You grow and deepen the relationships. Humility is a powerful trait. Grace. Flexibility of heart and mind.

Oh, the joy of reconnecting after fearing you have lost a deep friendship out of pride. Or cluelessness.

We find ourselves in different stages when we easily misunderstand things, or perceive a non-action as a direct affront.

My sister in law expressed her wish to partake in certain social settings with mom, and she felt excluded in passing but said nothing. I felt just like her, a few weeks back. She wanted to be wanted, not to have to ask for it. We also make assumptions. People showing up, or showing up on time. Respecting our friendship, our time, our space.

As for me, saying something early with grace is better than mulling over for weeks, and then it coming out bigger and heavier than it needed to be. Though not speaking with haste, with heat in the moment, it has its merit.

Could I have kept my mouth shot upon our arrival? Definitely. It is my standard mode of operation with my dad. But for him to understand what I’m saying, especially about the driving, we had to bring it up as it happened because otherwise he totally denied it or justified it. He corrected his pumping the acceleration and still said he didn’t do it.

So this question hunts me, itching me to pose. What kind of friendship do you want us to have? Honest or soft? I can be reserved polite and superficial. But I think I prefer honesty going both ways.

All that said, let’s not disguise rudeness into honesty, but the truth needs to prevail.