There Is a Veil Between Me and You

I have been obsessed with wedding veils lately. The intricate designs on the hem, the different patterns, the varied colors, and the sweeping lengths. To give a little too much information: I even have an entire Pinterest board dedicated solely to veils. I was completely consumed by them for a while. But why am I talking about veils? Because I find them fascinating, and more importantly, I find them deeply symbolic. A veil is a separation. It is like a soft, sheer wall. To truly see the other person, and to be seen clearly by them, that veil has to be consciously moved.

I find that the relationships I have been struggling with recently — whether familial, platonic, or otherwise — are suffering precisely because there is a veil between us. We cannot seem to resolve the underlying issues. I cannot get over the hurdle. Every single conversation just loops us right back to exactly where we started. Nothing gets resolved; it just leaves behind a heavy, lingering air of misunderstanding.

The unresolved friction becomes the only thing we look at. I was thinking about one particular relationship that has been an absolute hassle for me. It breaks down the moment I turn my back for even a second. Now, I know that relationships will automatically fall apart if they are not tended to. But this one bothered me. I genuinely like having good relationships with most people, especially if I care about them. If I do not care about a relationship, I do not bother with conflict resolution. The relationship can burn. Let it burn. But if I actually care, I want to resolve it actively. I want to pursue peace with urgency.

But then, I realized that I had developed a hyper focus on the conflict itself. I was looking at that single point of friction, obsessing over it, until it grew into a thick veil.

It became a barrier. I could no longer make out the details of their face; it became completely blurry. And because I could no longer see their face clearly, I stripped the humanity right out of them. They became a sort of enemy in my mind. I had to forcefully remind myself that they are not actively trying to fight me. I just wanted to be right, and I wanted them to be wrong. I would tell myself "they do not care, I am the only one who cares," stacking up misunderstandings to thicken the veil. I was continuously making the person invisible, telling myself "they are against me" just to justify my own anger.

"No maliciousness is intended for you," I wrote in my journal a few weeks ago. The person is not actually being malicious. It is just that a lot of crucial words are being left unsaid. I find myself waiting to hear very specific words from them. Sometimes they do say things that cause immense friction, but at the end of the day, we are in the exact same boat. We both care about where we are going as people. Yet, for the sake of trying to save the relationship, we keep speaking words that break more than they build. We stand there misrepresenting our true thoughts and exaggerating how badly we were understood, completely refusing to lift the cloth.

So, the veil stands obstinately between us. We remain deeply misunderstood, and in the quiet of my own mind, I just continue to assume maliciousness. But I am learning that I can pull the veil from my own face, be seen, be known, and be understood.