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I’ve heard people say, ‘Truth hurts,’ when I’ve acted offended to something. Butin such a case the bully wasn’t dealing in truth—whatever it was offended me because it was a lie. These days, I’m coming to realize that it’s not the lie itself that stings—it’s the antagonism behind it.
The truth can’t offend me. True – the truth can make me uncomfortable, but I’m not allergic to feelings of discomfort.
Now, confront that same bully with the truth, and you’ll see that yes, the truth makes them uncomfortable as well. Now, the degree to how they can deal with discomfort comes into play. Their usual reaction? Likely vengeance—slander, violence, exclusion, or isolation – revealing the same antagonistic attitude at play.
Human interactions are often plagued by a common thread of antagonism, whether it manifests through lies or the uncomfortable sting of truth.
Lies, after all, are born of a defensive, antagonistic attitude—a desire to manipulate or shield oneself from vulnerability. Yet, truth can provoke just as much irritation when it challenges a similar antagonism within the listener. Both reactions, rooted in the same underlying hostility, perpetuate cycles of conflict.
This is particularly evident in our responses to bullying. The instinct to retaliate, to “put bullies in their place,” is alluring, especially when one feels stronger or more capable. However, responding with aggression or violence only mirrors the bully’s antagonistic nature, transforming us into what we despise.
The “life lie” that tells us it is our duty to dictate how others should treat us reinforces this cycle. While collective action, supported by laws and social norms, can and should address wrongdoing, social dynamics are too often hijacked by bullies. Schools, workplaces, politics, and even families become arenas where many choose to appease bullies out of fear of becoming their next target.
There’s a story I read once on some kind of Buddhist subreddit (yeah, I had that phase). A bodhisattva or some monk was meditating on a mountain when a monkey came along and started harassing him. The monkey threw things, screamed, and eventually tried to humiliate by masturbating into the monk’s ear.
What did the bodhisattva do? Nothing. He stayed still, completely unfazed.
At first, I dismissed the story. It left me dull because I was convinced that only a disproportionate response could stop a bully from trying again. In our society, retribution isn’t as simple as taking someone into the woods to settle scores—it’s bound by laws and norms.
That’s the tricky part about bullies – the anxiety caused by the possible perpetuity of it all. The torment isn’t just their actions in the moment—it’s the fear that this behavior will persist forever, or worse, that it will keep you locked in an endless cycle of reaction and retaliation.
This anxiety—the fear that the problem will never end—is deeply human. It’s what drives many of us to lash out or retaliate, hoping to impose finality where none exists. But that very impulse often traps us further.
This is why finding strategies like non-response and Loving Retaliation is crucial—not to stop the bully outright, but to stop their (bordering-psychic) power over you.
But the more I lived and tried different approaches—arguing, retaliating, ignoring—the clearer the monkey story point became: none of those usual primitive approaches really worked. Every response that aimed to “win” just fed the cycle, probably even making me a more interesting target.
Now, having read about René Girard’s Mimetic Theory and Adler’s Individual Psychology, I see the actual power in the monk’s response. Not that the monk’s response had any conventional power. It avoided the engagement that fuels this sick game.
In contrast, all the usual responses seem to carry a kind of ‘anti-power’—energy that works against you (and everything around you).
Both Girards’ and Adler’s frameworks offer insight into the dynamics of antagonism and rivalry, and they support the idea that disengaging can be far more effective than escalation.
I’ll expand on these ideas later, but for now, it’s enough to say this: staying clear-headed isn’t just about surviving a moment—it’s a way to interrupt the entire cycle.
The life lie here is that if you don’t push back, you’re enabling bad behavior. But this lie only serves to escalate the cycle, convincing us that fire must always meet fire. Faithfulness offers another way—a way to stay true to yourself without losing your integrity or feeding the flames.
Faithfulness here means staying true to your principles and refusing to let someone else’s actions dictate your behavior. It’s about standing your ground without stooping to the level of antagonism. Faithfulness isn’t passive, nor is it aggressive—it’s the middle path that keeps you grounded and resilient.
This distinction is especially important when leaving isn’t an option. Whether it’s family, work, or community, running away might seem tempting, but sometimes staying faithful—using tools like loving retaliation (below) or non-response (above)—is what helps you maintain your integrity.
Alfred Adler’s individual psychology revolves around the idea that all humans start life with a sense of inferiority. We’re born small and dependent, and this feeling of “not enough” drives much of our behavior.
Adler argued that people respond to this in one of two ways:
Bullying, in this view, becomes a way for individuals to project their insecurities onto others. Adler also emphasized the importance of belonging. When we feel secure in our place in the world, we’re less likely to act out in harmful ways. This makes fostering a sense of belonging—both for ourselves and others—an essential part of breaking the cycle of antagonism.
Adler’s insights remind us that bullying often stems from unmet needs. This aligns with the practice of Loving Retaliation—it offers a chance to defuse tension and allow for reflection.
René Girard’s mimetic theory offers a broader lens on conflict. According to Girard, much of human behavior is driven by imitation—we desire what others desire. This leads to rivalry, as people compete for the same things.
When tensions rise, groups often resolve them through scapegoating: uniting against a single individual to blame. This mechanism provides temporary relief but doesn’t address the underlying conflict.
Bullying mirrors this process. The bully channels the group’s frustrations onto a scapegoat, creating a sense of unity at the scapegoat’s expense. The group, in turn, feels justified, even though the root cause of their tensions remains unresolved.
Girard’s scapegoating mechanism highlights why Loving Retaliation could be so powerful. They break the cycle by addressing behavior without escalating the rivalry.
***
Adler and Girard both highlight the role of belonging in human behavior. For Adler, belonging is what allows us to overcome feelings of inferiority. For Girard, the absence of belonging—being cast as the scapegoat—is what fuels conflict.
Both suggest that the solution lies in fostering genuine connection. This doesn’t mean forcing others to change, but rather building resilience within ourselves. When we feel secure in who we are, we’re less likely to get caught up in rivalry or power games.
One approach that seems promising is The Gift of Loving Retaliation. It should work to defend yourself while also giving the other chase to preserve their dignity. I will now explain why and how it should work.
When someone crosses a line, you don’t need to accuse, command, or explain (or meditate) yourself out of it. All you do is call out their name—or if you don’t know their name: a polite ma’am or sir should do—with a tone of surprise or shock.
Imagine the surprise in your voice when you say someone’s name in disbelief—’Silvi!?’ That tone, a mix of shock and invitation, says everything without adding judgment.
That’s it—simple but disarming. Their name, spoken with surprise, it disrupts the moment, giving both parties a chance to pause. For the line-crosser, it opens the door to awareness; for you, it keeps emotions in check.
These strategies aren’t about gaining power over others but about reclaiming your own peace. Their effectiveness comes from a place of sincerity and generosity, not control.
Why do I think this should work better than telling someone to fuck off or asking, in tears, why are you doing this? Well – how would you like to be addressed if you (especially, if unknowingly) crossed a line?
This got me thinking: if I were the one stepping out of line, how would I want to be addressed? I certainly wouldn’t want someone barking commands or accusations at me. That would only make me defensive. Neither would I want to be interrogated with specific questions, forced to immediately explain myself (that’s where we start vending bullshit).
But if someone called my name with that note of surprise—“Silvi!?”—it would give me space to choose my response. I could decide to apologize, admit or explain (that I was trying to do something else and didn’t know), or quietly retreat.
This sort of address should give people the option to exit or correct themselves with dignity. Not everyone will take that option, of course—but at that point, their response is their responsibility, not yours. If they choose to continue with violence or something of the sorts – that’s where you call the police or take this to the court, of course.
Loving Retaliation approach also leaves the person calling out the name an important option: they can frame their reaction as if they assumed the line-crosser didn’t realize what they were doing. And often, that’s a real possibility. People aren’t always aware when they’re pushing boundaries.
I’ve certainly stepped on a few rakes myself, and maybe only a few times there were generous responders who let me off the hook with dignity – those saints! Those moments demonstrated that generosity in conflict can be transformative, for both sides.
By simply saying a name, you create an opening for awareness without forcing the issue. It’s a generous approach that allows both sides to move forward without unnecessary tension or escalation. And, crucially, it helps you stay grounded, leaving you the freedom to interpret their response and choose your next move.
Addressing the situation by calling out their name can be a gift of respect, even in conflict—a way of saying, ‘I see you, and I trust you to handle this with care.’
Think of a situation where you’ve felt powerless against antagonism—how might these tools have changed the dynamic? How could you apply them moving forward?
True freedom doesn’t come from overpowering bullies or running from them. It’s not about thriving in chaos or improvising through life without missteps. Freedom from emotional turmoil takes a strategy.
Loving Retaliation—calling out conflict with clarity and generosity—isn’t just a strategy for dealing with others. It’s a path to peace within yourself.
These aren’t definitive answers—I’m still learning. But as the year comes to a close, these reflections feel worth sharing.
Perhaps this is the heart of Loving Retaliation: it’s not about defeating anyone but about transforming conflict into an opportunity for grace. In doing so, we free ourselves from its grip and step into peace.
The more you practice these strategies, the more natural they become. Emotional resilience isn’t built overnight—it’s the result of small, consistent choices to step out of cycles of antagonism.
Once you’ve practiced strategies like Loving Retaliation and non-response to maintain clarity and emotional strength, the next step is recognizing when a situation has crossed a line—and understanding when and how to call for help from appropriate authorities.
Not every problem can or should be handled quietly or internally. Some behaviors are severe enough to demand intervention by third parties, such as law enforcement, workplace authorities, or legal systems. Taking abuse seriously and involving these entities isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s a courageous act of self-respect and responsibility when attempts at mending a chronic conflict fails on your own.
“I want to make it clear that calling for help from authorities isn’t an easy decision. It’s not just the act of reporting that’s hard—it’s the emotional weight of having to admit that reconciliation and offering an olive branch no longer work. I spent months trying to make amends, trying to offer solutions to the problems. I suggested concrete steps to deal with the issues we faced—like finding ways to live together more peacefully. Each time, the response was not just refusal, but hostility and rejection of any civil dialogue.
This is the point where it becomes much harder than just trying to fix things privately. It feels like a failure, a loss of any last hope that things might improve through discussion. But this is also the point where I realized that no matter how much we try to be patient, compromise, or reach out with kindness, some people just won’t change their attitude. And when it comes to safety, peace, and respect—it’s no longer about trying to mend a relationship. It’s about protecting your mental well-being and asserting that this behavior is not acceptable.”
Abuse can take many forms, but it often falls into one of two categories:
Both forms of abuse violate fundamental human rights, including your right to feel safe in your own home. No one has the right to harass, intimidate, or isolate you—even if their actions seem subtle enough to be dismissed. For example:
Humiliation and Insults: Using verbal abuse to erode your confidence and make you doubt your worth.Before exploring strategies like Loving Retaliation or non-response for the sake of restoring or keeping your own sanity in the face of either acute or chronic abuse, it’s essential to recognize an important boundary: not all conflicts should be managed quietly or internally.
Intentional Conflict-Seeking: Picking fights, mocking, or belittling you over trivial matters to create a hostile environment.
Isolation Tactics: Preventing you from feeling welcome in shared spaces, such as blocking access to the kitchen or social areas.
It’s important to understand that none of these actions are “your fault.” Chronic abusers often make their victims feel responsible for the conflict, as though their reactions justify the mistreatment. But harassment, whether subtle or overt, is always a choice made by the abuser—not you.
When abuse crosses these boundaries, calling for authority—such as law enforcement or legal advocacy groups—is often necessary. Authorities can provide more than immediate intervention; they can enforce your rights and hold the abuser accountable.
In some cultures or situations, seeking help from authorities may feel like an extreme or even taboo step. But your right to safety and dignity transcends these norms, and finding a trusted ally or advocate can help bridge the gap.
When formal intervention isn’t possible – turn to the Loving Retaliation strategy, as it just may help you maintain sanity.
It’s easy to doubt yourself when dealing with abuse, especially in chronic situations where the lines between normal conflict and harassment feel blurred. But you have fundamental human rights, including:
The right to speak freely without being mocked, insulted, or silenced.Understanding when a situation crosses these boundaries helps you act decisively. Reporting such actions isn’t about retaliation—it’s about protecting yourself and ensuring accountability. It can also prevent further harm, especially if others are or could become victims of the same behavior.
The right to:
Calling for authority requires preparation, especially in cases of chronic abuse. Keeping a record of incidents is essential: write down specific events, dates, times, and actions. Save any evidence, such as text messages or emails. These records not only support your case but also reaffirm to yourself that your experience is valid and actionable.
Reporting abuse to the appropriate authorities isn’t about escalating conflict—it’s about enforcing these rights and restoring balance. Authorities aren’t a guarantee of instant resolution, but they’re a vital step in addressing harmful behavior that’s beyond your control.
By seeking external intervention, you don’t just protect yourself—you also take a stand against patterns of abuse that might affect others in the same space.At the same time, it’s equally important to prepare yourself for this process.
Reporting abuse requires courage, clarity, and often documentation. If you’re in a position to take action, keep records of incidents. Write down dates, times, and specific details. Save messages, emails, or other evidence. The clearer your case, the stronger your position will be when you bring it forward.
PS While authorities are a crucial resource, outcomes may vary depending on the circumstances. The goal of reporting isn’t immediate resolution but taking a necessary step toward accountability and protection.
The journey from enduring to acting is rarely straightforward. Chronic abuse often wears down your sense of what’s possible or what you deserve, while acute abuse may leave you feeling paralyzed in the moment. But by combining internal tools like soul-hacking with the external power of knowing and asserting your rights, you gain the clarity and courage to act when the time comes.
True freedom isn’t just about surviving abuse—it’s about protecting your dignity and your peace. And sometimes, that means calling for help from those empowered to intervene.
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