I don’t know about you, but my brain LOVES imaginary arguments.
On the battlefield of my imagination, I’ve done things I’d never do in real life. I’ve screamed at bad bosses, reamed out bad coworkers, and dreamed up the most jaw-dropping arguments where I (somehow) always come out on top. I’ve wasted shower water on too many imaginary bon mots, zingers, and devastating rejoinders. My adversaries are humiliated, apologetic, and brought to tears.
It’s my brain’s way of getting things off my chest, I suppose.
But at the end of the day, it has zero impact on the real world. I’ve never won an argument in real life that began as an argument in my mind. It’s not even practical practice!
Without getting too personal, I’ve been in crisis mode this past week. And the way my brain has responded is flipping back and forth between imaginary arguments and blissful moments of peace where I forget the pain – but then I remember, and I fight back with argument mode.
Wash, rinse, repeat. Fight, then flight, then back to fight again.
Even in my happiest places – on trail runs, on long hikes, and out in the spring sunshine – my mind isn’t wandering along with me.
My faith teaches me that actions are what matter, not thoughts. It’s one of the fundamental truths of my personal faith, that life is about the good you DO in the world, not the good you think you do or want to do.
But these imaginary arguments create a mindset.
And don’t our thoughts become our words; then our words become our actions; then habits, then character? How do you control your all-important thoughts? I haven’t figured it out yet.
Finally, I tried to go for a walk this week to clear my mind. “If you are in a bad mood, go for a walk. If you are still in a bad mood, go for another walk.” -Hippocrates
But even outdoors, I just couldn’t stop the bitter, brutal arguments with the people who wronged me. I tried catchy songs, I tried thinking about hobbies, focusing on the sun on my face – the only thing that finally gave me respite was repeating my prayers.
But I didn’t even want God to be a part of this mindset.
(Not that I have a choice in the matter: “Even before I speak, you already know what I will say.” Psalm 139:4)
I know God isn’t taking a side in these arguments (nor is he smiting my enemies for me), no matter how right or righteous I feel. In fact, it’s easy to blame God in dark moments like these, making Him the antagonist in the A vs. B mindset.
From the bottom of this sadness, I do hope it’s possible to look up and see a way out.
C.S. Lewis took an optimistic view of argument – in The Screwtape Letters, the demon Screwtape warns: “By the very act of arguing, you awake the patient’s reason; and once it is awake, who can foresee the result?”
The reason is there, I suppose.
My argument-loving brain knows (somewhere in there) that I should take the high road, rather than racking up the undefeated arguments.
I do know (somewhere in there) that I should turn an argument into a conversation by seeing things from their perspective with full benefit of the doubt.
I do know (somewhere in there) that I should double down on prayer and faith in dark places, over, and over, and over again – because that’s where they’re needed most.
I just can’t seem to shut it off, no matter how hard I try.
I know that antagonism isn’t a fertile garden for gratitude and love, but I’ve still wallowed there for most of this week.
I’ll get there eventually. I know I will.
Just don’t bother arguing with me about it. (In my mind, you won’t stand a chance.)
Dio Tararrel is a writer, poet, and graduate student at the University of Utah.
