There is a story by Matsuko Deluxe that has always stuck in my head.
When she was young, there was someone who was very kind to her. She was grateful and truly thought that person was a good person. However, one day, the moment that person said, "Do you remember that time?", she suddenly felt cold toward them.
I understand this so well.
The act of being treated kindly is something to be grateful for. You must not forget being helped. But the moment the person who did it says, "Do you remember that time?", the temperature of that kindness drops instantly.
What was supposed to be a gift suddenly becomes an invoice.
Kindness becomes muddied the moment it is "collected" later
The other day, it seems my husband cleaned the kitchen.
Quite thoroughly, even around the ventilation fan and the stove.
I wrote "it seems" because I didn't notice at all at the time.
Normally, it wouldn't be strange for my husband to say, "I did the ventilation fan" or "I cleaned around the stove." If he had said that, I think I could have said "thank you" on the spot.
But thinking about Matsuko's story, there is a certain kindness in not saying anything.
If I had suddenly noticed later and said:
"Oh, isn't the kitchen cleaner?"
"Did you do this for me?"
And if he had just smiled and said, "Oh, you noticed?", that would have probably been the most beautiful way.
But my husband said nothing to me.
I thought he was admirable.
Doing something silently is not easy. It's surprisingly difficult to finish without saying "I did it."
However, later, a friend who read my husband's blog laughed and said:
"He wrote that his wife didn't notice."
I froze right there.
...Wait, so you did say it there?
If you wanted me to notice, you should have told me. If you were going to do it stylishly in silence, you should have stayed silent until the end.
Instead of saying it to me, he used me as material for his blog as the "wife who doesn't notice."
It's a quiet public execution disguised as kindness.
A small act of goodwill inside the house became "content" in a corner of the internet.
Of course, I am grateful that he cleaned. I am truly grateful for that. But the problem isn't that he cleaned.
It's how he "collected" on it.
"I did it silently."
"Yet my wife didn't notice."
"See, I'm unrewarded, aren't I?"
The moment that atmosphere seeps in, the goodwill becomes a bit muddy.
It's not that saying "I did it" is bad.
I dislike the act of pretending to do it silently while collecting the reward elsewhere.
If you're going to do it silently, stay silent until the end.
If you want someone to notice, just say it normally.
Either one is fine.
The most tedious people are those who pretend to have done it silently while waiting for applause in their hearts.
"I did it for you" is a desire for control disguised as kindness
I think this is the same as Matsuko's "Do you remember that time?" story.
People don't lose interest because they were treated kindly.
They lose interest when that kindness is "collected" later.
"I helped you back then, didn't I?"
"I paid for it that time, didn't I?"
"You didn't notice that I cleaned the ventilation fan back then, did you?"
Even if the form is different, the root is the same.
What was supposed to be kindness suddenly becomes a "debt."
Furthermore, it might not have been "kindness" but a "reservation for control." Saving that kindness from back then as a card to prove one's own value someday. Taking it out when the other person has forgotten or didn't notice and showing them, "Look, I'm unrewarded, aren't I?"
Honestly, it's heavy.
It's a time bomb disguised as kindness.
Perhaps human kindness is inevitably mixed with a desire for recognition.
If you are kind to someone, you want to be thanked a little. You want to be thought of as a good person. You want them to remember that it was "thanks to that person."
I think this itself is natural. I have it too. If I'm kind and get ignored, I think in my heart, "Wait, no reaction?"
We are human, after all. We aren't Buddhas. We aren't chanting sutras all day.
But the moment you make the other person carry that desire, the kindness stops being for them and becomes something to satisfy yourself.
What's scary isn't the kindness itself. It's the "look at me" mixed inside the kindness that shows its face later.
The more people try to make you feel indebted, the more they think they are kind
Aren't there people like this around you?
People who say "I'm thinking of you" but actually want to control you.
People who say "I'm just worried" but get grumpy if they aren't thanked.
People who keep bringing up a favor from years ago, saying "I helped you back then."
The more people are like this, the more they usually think they are kind.
This is the tricky part.
If they were a bad person, it would be easy to understand. We could keep our distance. But goodwill that approaches with the face of "I'm doing this for your own good" is difficult to handle.
Because in their own mind, they are already on the side of justice.
"You are cold for not being grateful."
"You are dull for not noticing."
"You are strange for not feeling indebted."
In that way, before you know it, you are made out to be the bad guy.
It's scary.
They are debt collectors wearing the skin of goodwill.
Truly kind people do not use kindness as a weapon. They don't thrust the fact that they helped at the other person's throat later.
If you're going to do it, do it silently.
If you want them to notice, just say it normally.
If you reached out a hand, don't show off that hand after the other person has stood up.
Kindness is meant to make the other person feel lighter.
Yet the moment you are told "You didn't notice, did you?", a small weight is placed on the other person's heart.
I have to say thank you.
Am I bad for not noticing?
Did I incur a debt to this person?
That's no longer kindness; it's "installment payments for the heart." And the interest rate is subtly high.
What's scary is that I might be doing it too
However, if I stop here, it just ends with "Yeah, people who act entitled to gratitude are annoying."
But that's not the truly scary part.
The truly scary part is that I can't say for sure that I'm not doing it too.
When I've been kind but wasn't thanked, I sometimes think in my heart, "After all I did for them."
Just because a reply was blunt, I might get annoyed, thinking, "And I said it because I was worried."
Yes, it shows.
It shows on my face.
It even shows in my LINE reply speed.
Immaturity, business as usual.
But that's where human nature comes out.
The moment a person gives something, they start wanting the other person's reaction too. Even if they intended to just give kindness, somewhere in their heart, they are trying to collect "gratitude," "respect," and "special treatment" as a set.
That's why kindness is difficult.
Are you doing it for the other person?
Or are you doing it because it feels good to be thanked?
This boundary is much thinner than you think. And the person themselves is the least likely to notice.
When saying "for you," people are usually doing it for themselves too. If you turn a blind eye to this, kindness quickly turns into control.
It's not what you did, but how you gave it
Of course, I don't mean to say my husband, who cleaned, is a bad person.
It was probably his own way of being kind. He might have wanted to keep it clean, or he might have wanted to help me.
But kindness has class.
It's not what you did, but how you gave it.
It's not how hard you worked, but what you left for the other person.
If you get this wrong, your hard-earned kindness becomes heavy.
"I did it for you" can muddy a relationship with just those words. Even if the speaker means it lightly, it sits heavily on the receiver.
Truly kind people do not bind others with their kindness.
Kindness is not something to be made to remember.
It's just right when the heart feels a gentle warmth upon noticing it.
Are there people like this around you?
"Even though I went to the trouble of doing it for you."
"Normally, you'd notice."
"You're someone who forgets favors, aren't you?"
People who make you the bad guy while saying such things.
That's where the true motive comes out.
It's not kindness.
It was just a desire for control.
Having lived for 66 years, this is what I think.
You should look at a person not when they do something for you, but when they aren't thanked the way they expected. That's where their true nature appears.
The truly scary people are not the cold ones.
It's the people who bind you with the face of kindness.
I will continue to write about how to see through these human relationships from my 66-year perspective.
I would be happy if you followed me.
