From religion to politics to identity, this ‘othering’ of anyone who is different than us is insidious

There are quite a few things in my everyday life that can catapult me head-first into an indignant rage. People walking too slowly in front of me, writes Louise O'Neill.

People standing too close to me in my gym’s changing rooms. Someone using the particular treadmill that I prefer, when there are other ones available. (What can I say, I’m a creature of habit.)

Strangers sitting next to me on any form of public transport. When family members fail to stack the dishwasher in an ergonomic and efficient manner.

Clutter in all forms, except when it’s my own because that’s not clutter, it’s a collection of items that need to be sorted. Every single other driver on any given road. Have you heard of the Rules of the Road?

I silently seethe as some fool decides that picking an actual lane seems like too much work, hence the need to straddle both. It might be a wise investment. (Of course, drivers who beep their horns when I happen to make a mistake are ‘impatient’ and ‘monsters’.)

Because of this proclivity towards curmudgeonly ways, I practise a few tricks to keep calm.

Meditation in the morning, focusing on my breath when I begin contemplating murder when an elderly person ahead of me in the queue at the supermarket is paying their €20 bill in 5c pieces. I also read a lot of self-help literature.

A book I came across recently was Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff — and it’s all small stuff, by Richard Carlson. It was originally published in 1997 and contains simple techniques that can keep you from allowing the little things to drive you into a frenzy.

One of the techniques suggests that we choose being kind over being right, and then posed the question, Would you rather be right or happy? My first thought was “I would rather be right, obviously”, followed swiftly by “I am going to die alone”.

There was something so rigid about my reaction, so self-righteous, and it surprised me because I don’t think of myself as either of those things. I had hoped that I was a curious person, someone who was open to new things and eager to learn, not someone who was instinctively unwilling to be flexible.

I started to think about this idea of ‘right’ being in opposition to ‘happy’, taking note of what I saw in those around me.

Inconsequential grudges held for decades, families torn apart by infighting, relationships soured by a refusal to be the first person to extend the hand of forgiveness. Everyone involved was deeply unhappy, as far as I could see, but still unable to let go of their need to be ‘right’.

This obsession is something that has permeated society at large. On a global scale, it feels as if we have never been more divided, everyone choosing their faction and declaring it to be the One True Way. From religion to politics to identity, this “othering” of anyone who is different than us is insidious, carving up communities into “us” and “them”.

And while I believe that we need to enact a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to racism, homophobia, misogyny, and prejudice of all kinds, perhaps the time has come for us to become more comfortable with the cognitive dissonance it takes to acknowledge that someone can have wildly different views to you and still be a good person, worthy of respect.

I have had conversations with people who are opposed to abortion, and yet are still pro-choice because they wouldn’t dream of imposing their morality on another person’s body.

While it’s difficult for me to hear abortion, something I see as part of the spectrum of reproductive health services, described as a ‘sin’, I respect that the person in question would still vote to repeal the Eighth Amendment, refusing to rob a woman of her bodily autonomy.

Presuming the other person isn’t using offensive language that needs to be challenged, I have to decide what it is that I want to do in that particular moment.

Do I want to get into a heated debate with an elderly person, steeped in religion for the last 90 years?

Do I want to embarrass a colleague’s parents who have shown me nothing but kindness? Do I want to reject a childhood best friend?

Or do I make the decision to state my beliefs clearly, allow the other person to do the same, and have a respectful, measured conversation?

Do I want to be right or do I want to be happy?

And now I ask the same question of you.

Starting today, could you choose being kind over being right? Can you acknowledge that the need to be right could be harming your relationships?

Once we understand that this drive comes from an irrational, albeit deep seated fear that if someone else holds a different opinion to us that it somehow invalidates our own, it becomes increasingly clear how important it is that we let go.

1) It’s impossible to be right all the time and 2) the people around you are unlikely to appreciate being held up to such exacting standards.

By letting go of the need to be right, you will give yourself permission to make mistakes, to ask ‘silly’ questions, to learn from that and to grow.

And isn’t that what life is really all about?