Maybe I’m Not Just Being Difficult

My name's Mark, and you're listening to Headstraight. Hello, you lot, and welcome back. Now today, we're having a look at something that often comes up when I talk to young people. And oftentimes, they say to me, do you know, maybe I'm not just being difficult. Because sometimes you can come out of an argument and not really understand how you got there.

Maybe you've shouted, walked off, slammed the door, refused to do something, or just completely shut down. Everyone around you is reacting to what you've done, and you're probably reacting to them reacting to you. And somewhere in the middle of all of that, you might be thinking, why do I keep doing this? Because from the outside, it can look pretty straightforward. You got angry.

You were rude. You wouldn't listen. You made things difficult. And maybe some of that is true. But I think there are times when you know, somewhere underneath it all, that there's more going on than that.

You might not even know what the more is. You just know that calling it bad behavior or saying that you're being difficult doesn't quite explain it. Now maybe you've tried to explain yourself before and it came out wrong. Maybe you didn't know what to say. Maybe you didn't even realize that something was bothering you until you were already right in the middle of reacting to it.

And that's what I want to explore in this episode. Not whether you're right or wrong, not whether everything that you do has some deep meaning behind it. Just this idea that sometimes the things that we do can start to say something before we've actually found the words ourselves. And maybe that changes the question slightly. Instead of just asking, why am I being so difficult?

Maybe there's another question sitting just underneath it. What is it that I'm actually trying to say? Now sometimes there probably isn't anything deeper going on. You're annoyed. You're tired.

Someone's got on your nerves. You've made a bad decision. We don't need to turn every slam door into some massive hidden message. But there are other times when you start to notice a pattern. Maybe you react much more strongly in certain situations.

Maybe you're fine until someone keeps pushing you for an answer. Maybe school gets harder and harder until eventually you just can't face going in. Maybe you're okay with everyone else, but at home, you seem to explode over the smallest things. And that can be confusing because you might look back afterwards and think, why did that affect me so much? Now sometimes the reaction seems much bigger than whatever actually happened.

But maybe that's because what just happened isn't the whole thing. Maybe it was the final bit. Maybe you'd already been holding onto something all day. Maybe you were embarrassed, worried, overwhelmed, angry, or just completely fed up, and you hadn't really noticed how much it was building. And then someone says one thing to you, and you suddenly let them have all of it.

I think most of us have moments like that. Someone asks a perfectly reasonable question and somehow gets a completely unreasonable response because they've accidentally arrived at the end of something that started for you hours ago. And when you're younger, working out what's building up inside you isn't always easy. Sometimes, you only realize that something was getting to you once you've already reacted. And that's where I think behaviour can become really interesting because sometimes what you do might be showing that something isn't right before you actually understand what that something is.

And that doesn't automatically make the behaviour okay. It just means that there might be more to understand than the bit that everyone saw. Now the tricky bit is that we tend to think communication means talking. You explain what's wrong, someone listens, and you work it out. Except real life doesn't always happen like that.

Sometimes you know something feels wrong, but you couldn't explain it if someone gave you all day. You might know that you don't want to go somewhere, don't want to see someone, don't want to talk, or just need everyone to stop for a bit. But putting a reason behind it can sometimes feel almost impossible. And when people keep asking, they can actually make it worse. You've probably had this before.

What's wrong? Well, I don't really know. Come on. Something must be wrong. Oh, well, said I don't know.

Why are you now getting angry? And now you're in an argument about why you're angry when five minutes ago you weren't even sure that you were angry. And I think that's where behaviour sometimes starts filling the gap. Not deliberately. It's not like you're sitting there thinking, right, I can't explain this, so I think I'm going to kick off instead.

It's a lot messier than that. You might pull away, stop replying, refuse something, get irritated much faster than usual, become louder, become quieter, start avoiding something that, from everyone else's point of view, you should be able to manage. And none of those things give anyone a nice, clear explanation. They just say something's going on. The problem is that message can be really easy to misunderstand.

Someone might see anger when what's underneath it is embarrassment. They might see laziness when actually you're overwhelmed. They might see you being stubborn when, for whatever reason, you genuinely feel like you can't do what they're asking. And sometimes they'll get it wrong because, actually, how would they know? That's probably one of the frustrating things about this.

You can desperately want someone to understand you while having absolutely no idea how to help them to do that. And maybe that's why being called difficult can hit so hard. Because you're thinking, you've noticed what I'm doing. I just wish you understood what's happening underneath it. And sometimes the strange thing is you're not being ignored at all.

People are noticing you constantly. Your parents might be talking about what's been happening. School might be ringing home. Teachers might be watching you more closely. There might even be meetings where people are sitting around talking about you, trying to work out what needs to change.

So it's not like no one's noticed because they've noticed plenty. They've noticed that you're not going into lessons. They've noticed that you're getting into arguments. They've noticed that you're staying in your room more. They've noticed that you're not doing things that you used to do.

But being noticed and being understood are two completely different things. Because once people become worried about the behavior, that can quickly become the main thing that everyone talks about. How do we get you back into school? How do we stop the arguments? What are we going to do if this happens again?

Why can't you just tell us what's wrong? And they might be completely reasonable questions. But if you don't know what's wrong yourself, you can end up feeling like everyone's trying to solve something you haven't even managed to understand yourself yet. And that can be a really odd place to find yourself. Everyone's talking about you.

Everyone seems to have an opinion about what you're doing. And somehow, you can still feel like the bit that actually matters hasn't been heard. Because maybe what you wanted someone to notice wasn't that you've stopped going to school. Maybe it was how you felt every morning before you were supposed to leave. Maybe it wasn't just the argument.

Maybe it was everything that had been building up before it. Maybe it wasn't just that you shut everyone out. Maybe there was something about letting someone in that felt harder than anyone realized. And I think that's the important difference. Sometimes the world has absolutely noticed that something's happening.

It just hasn't necessarily understood what it's looking at. Now the problem is behavior can be a pretty crap way of explaining what's actually going on. It might tell people that something's wrong, but it just doesn't necessarily tell them what. If you get angry, someone can see the anger. What they can't see is whether underneath you're embarrassed, scared, hurt, frustrated, overwhelmed, or just completely fed up.

If you refuse to go somewhere, people can see the refusal. What they can't automatically know is whether you're avoiding something, worried about what might happen when you get there, exhausted by it, or whether there's something about that place that just feels too much. And if you shut everyone out, they can see that too. But they can't know whether you want to be left alone, whether you're hoping someone will keep trying, or whether you genuinely don't know what you want at that point. But that's where things can get tangled really quickly.

Because your behavior might be saying something isn't right, but the people around you are having to guess the rest. And sometimes they're gonna guess wrong. They might think that you're trying to get your own way when actually you're panicking. They might think that you don't care when actually you care so much that you don't know what to do with it. They might think that you're deliberately making things difficult when actually you're struggling to manage something that feels much bigger from where you're standing.

But there's another side to that as well. If all someone can see is what you're doing, then that's what they're gonna respond to. They can't hear the bit that you haven't said, and I think that's where one of the hardest parts of this sits. You can feel like you're making it really obvious that something's wrong, whilst everyone around you is still trying to work out what on earth you're trying to tell them. Sometimes the behavior gets louder.

The arguments get bigger. The refusal gets stronger. You pull away even more. But instead of making the message clearer, it can actually do the opposite. Everyone becomes focused on what's happening right now.

The shout, the door, the school refusal, the thing that's just happened. And whatever was underneath it gets pushed even further into the background. So sometimes the louder the behavior becomes, the harder the real message is to hear. Now this is probably the bit that is a little harder to sit with. Because if you're thinking, why doesn't anyone understand what I'm trying to say here?

There's another question that's sitting right alongside it. How are they supposed to know? Now that's not me saying it's all down to you explaining yourself perfectly. Sometimes you can't. Sometimes you genuinely don't know what's going on yet.

Sometimes you tried to explain before and felt ignored, dismissed, or like you somehow made things worse. But even people who care about you can get it wrong. They can know you really well and still misunderstand what they're seeing. They might think that you need space when actually you're hoping that they're gonna stay with you. They might keep asking questions because they're really trying to help, whilst every question is making you want to shut down even more.

They might push you to do something because they think that you need a bit of encouragement, when from your side, it feels like they're completely missing how hard that thing has become for you. And the frustrating thing is both sides can end up convinced that they're being really obvious. You might be thinking, how can you not see that I can't manage this right now? And they might be thinking, how can you not see that I'm trying to help you? Then after a while, you're not even dealing with whatever started it anymore.

You're dealing with each other. And that's why I don't think this is as simple as saying people should look beyond the behavior. Of course, that can help. But sometimes there isn't a clear message sitting underneath it waiting for someone clever enough to spot it. Sometimes everyone's trying to work it out, including you.

And maybe that takes a little bit of pressure off the idea that someone else should somehow already know. Because being misunderstood doesn't always mean someone isn't listening. Sometimes it just means that the thing that you're trying to communicate is still unclear, even to you. And that brings us to probably the most useful question in all of this. Not why does everyone keep getting me wrong, but this.

Do I actually know what's going on for me? Because sometimes you don't. You just know the reaction. You know when someone mentions school, your stomach drops. You know that when a certain person messages you, your mood changes.

You know that when someone keeps asking what's wrong, you want them to stop. You know that when things get too much at home, you either explode or disappear. But knowing the pattern isn't the same as understanding it. And I think that's where it can help to become a bit curious about what happens around those moments. Not in a massive overthinking everything kind of a way, just noticing.

What usually happens before I kick off? What am I feeling just before I shut down? Is there a certain point where I go from coping to nope, absolutely not? Does it happen more with certain people, certain places, certain conversations? And maybe one of the most useful questions is what you think afterwards.

Because sometimes the bit you couldn't explain in the moment becomes much clearer once everything has calmed down. You might think, I really wish they'd realized that I was panicking, or I wish they'd stopped pushing me, or I wish someone had asked me what was happening earlier, or maybe even I wish I'd known what I needed before all of this kicked off. That doesn't mean that you'll suddenly understand yourself perfectly. You probably won't. Most of us don't.

But if you start noticing what tends to happen before these moments, you might begin to see that they're not always as random as they feel. And that's quite different from you deciding, well, this is just what I'm like. Because once you start seeing a pattern, you've got something that you can actually work with. Now there's another sign to this that I think we need to hold on to. Maybe there was a reason you lost it.

Maybe you've been holding on to something all day. Maybe you felt trapped, embarrassed, scared, overwhelmed, or like no one was listening. Now that matters. But what happened next matters as well. If you shouted at someone, frightened them, broke something, said something cruel, or pushed someone away, understanding what was going on underneath doesn't make that bit disappear.

And I think both things can be true at the same time. You can look back and think, yeah, I shouldn't have done that. And you can also think, but I want to understand why I got to that point. But if you only stop at I messed up again, you don't really learn anything about what happened. And if you only stop at, wow, I was struggling, you might miss the effect that your behavior had on someone else.

And there's probably something more useful somewhere in the middle of those two thoughts. And it might sound something like this. That didn't go well. What was happening before it? What was building up?

What was I trying to deal with that I couldn't explain at that time? Now that's not giving yourself an excuse. It's about giving yourself a better chance of spotting it earlier next time. And I think that's the important difference. You can take responsibility for something that you've done without turning it into a judgment about who you are.

I did something difficult isn't the same as I'm a difficult person. And maybe understanding that gives you somewhere to go next rather than just ending up stuck with the label. Now maybe the next step isn't understanding everything. Maybe it's just finding enough words to let someone know that there's more going on. Because I think we can get stuck with this idea that if we're gonna explain ourselves, we need to explain ourselves properly.

We need to know exactly what's wrong, why it's happening, what we need, what someone else should do about it. And sometimes you just don't know any of that yet. Sometimes all you've got is, I don't really know what's going on, but I know I'm not okay with this. Or I can't explain why, but this feels harder than it should. Or even I know I keep getting angry, but I don't think anger is the whole thing.

And actually, that might be enough to start with. You don't have to hand someone a perfect explanation of yourself before they're allowed to understand that something's going on. You might still need time to work it out. They might still get parts of it wrong. You might say something one day and realize a week later that it wasn't quite right.

And that's okay. Because finding the words can be a process. And maybe that's where things can start to change a little. Not because you've suddenly become brilliant at talking about how you feel, but because the behavior doesn't have to do all of the talking anymore. Even a few words can begin to carry some of the message.

And that might be the difference between someone only seeing what you've done and starting to understand that there's something else going on underneath it. And I think that's probably where this becomes a bit more practical. Because if you don't have the full explanation yet, you can still give someone a clue. You can say, look, I don't know why I'm reacting like this, but I know something's getting to me. Or I'm not trying to make this difficult.

I just don't know how to explain what's wrong yet. Or even, can we not sort this out right now? I think I need a bit of time before I can talk about it properly. Now, none of these are perfect. They don't magically stop the argument.

They don't guarantee the other person will understand. And they definitely don't mean that you've suddenly got everything under control. But they do mean something important. They give the other person a bit more to work with than just the behaviour. Because if all they can see is you walking away, refusing, shouting, or shutting down, they're gonna have to make sense of that on its own.

And we've already seen how easily that can go wrong. But even one sentence can change the picture. It can turn they're just being difficult again into, okay, something's going on here even if they can't explain it yet. And maybe that's enough for that moment. You don't always have to solve the whole thing whilst you're right in the middle of it.

Sometimes the first bit of communication is simply letting someone know there's more going on here than what you can see. So maybe being called difficult isn't always the bit that matters most. Maybe the most useful question is what that word is covering up. Because difficult can describe what something looks like from the outside. It can describe the argument, the refusal, the walking away, the shutting down.

But it doesn't necessarily tell you anything about what's happening inside you at the time. And I think that matters because once a word like that gets used often enough, it can start to feel like an explanation. Why did that happen? Well, because I'm difficult. Why do you keep reacting like this?

Because that's just what I'm like. But that doesn't really explain anything. It just stops the question. And maybe there's something more useful in staying curious for a little bit longer. Not trying to find some huge hidden reason behind everything you do.

Just being open to the idea that sometimes there might be more going on than what everyone can see. And maybe that's all the title really needs to mean. Maybe I'm not just being difficult. Maybe I'm struggling with something that I haven't worked out yet. Maybe I'm trying to show something that I can't quite say.

Maybe I'm reacting before I really understand what I'm reacting to. And none of that has to become an excuse. It just means difficult doesn't have to be where the conversation ends. So the next time that you end up in one of those moments, maybe you've lost your temper, walked away, refused something, or just completely shut down, I don't think that you need to come out of it with some perfect explanation. You might still not know why it happened, but perhaps once things have settled a bit, there's one question worth coming back to.

What was I trying to say there? Not literally. You might not have been trying to say anything. But what was going on for you? What did you need?

What did you wish someone had understood? And even if the answer is still I don't know, then that's okay. You've at least started looking at it differently. Because if you've spent a long time thinking that you're just the difficult one, maybe there's another way of looking at it. Maybe sometimes there's more going on than you've been able to explain.

Maybe some of the things that you do are showing something that you haven't quite found the words for yet. Now that doesn't mean that everything you do is okay, and it doesn't mean that you'll always know exactly why you reacted in the way that you have. But maybe the next time that you find yourself thinking, here we go again. I'm just being difficult. You can stop for a second and wonder, is there something else going on here?

Because sometimes what people see you doing is only part of the story. So next week, we have a different question. Are you up for it? Of course, you are.