People-watching-whether one is observing behavior out of the ordinary in a public place or whether one is trying to figure out why someone in their circle of family and friends acts a certain way-can be fascinating (with strangers)... and frustrating (with someone closer to you.)  Sometimes people are selfish, dysfunctional or misanthropic. But in my experience, if one saw the entire picture, the behavior of the people we care about may make more sense than we originally thought-if we had all the facts. My husband is one of those people who always assumes the best of everyone-that if someone is acting weird, there is probably a good reason. The older I get, the more I'm agreeing with him.

Way back in another job, long, long ago, I worked in a large organization.  Occasionally I would see a colleague from another department-let's call him Bob-at conferences or meetings. Everyone in my field knew him, and he was well-liked. But Bob's problem was that whenever he would sit down at a meeting, within 10 minutes he would nod off. Throughout the entire event-unless there was some activity that required his active participation, Bob started "bobbing."  All my colleagues and I would exchange uncomfortable glances-more so when he occasionally started to snore. The prevailing assumption at the time was that he was bored (the charitable view) or that he was incredibly disrespectful and lazy... probably most people's assessment.

Today, my assumptions about Bob would be totally different. I would take him aside, privately, tell him as compassionately as I could what I observed and urge him to see a doctor. Daytime sleepiness can be a symptom of a few possible life-threatening medical conditions-sleep apnea is just one.  My assumption today would be that Bob is a great guy (he was!) and he's not rude or lazy. If he's sawing-off at meetings, there must be a good reason.

Today there is someone in my "circle" who has another unusual medical condition that has embarrassing symptoms. (all identifying information is disguised.) She has something called Paruresis or, in common parlance, "bashful kidney."  With this anxiety disorder, one is unable to urinate in a public place-sometimes sufferers are unable to urinate anywhere except their bathroom at home. She is expert at hiding it-nobody would ever suspect. She works out of her home very successfully, so that solves the dilemma during the work day. She is also eager to entertain in her home, so she can have some social life. She can go to the grocery store and run short errands, because she can use the bathroom right before she leaves home and get back "in time." But a leisurely dinner out?  Attend a concert or a play? Accept an invitation to be a houseguest somewhere?  She has to say no. So, to the typical observer who sees this behavior and can't explain it, it's easy to ascribe rudeness to her. What if everyone in her life knew that although she is diligently working with a doctor, she cannot be away from home more than two hours right now?  It's an invisible disability-and it seems that everyone always assumes the worst in these situations.

An incident that happened recently in my own life was the impetus for this blog. For a few minutes at the time, I looked as if I was behaving childishly about it and my reaction to it, overblown. But there's more to it. 

A couple of weeks ago, my husband I went through a fast food drive-thru.  He ordered some kind of burger combo meal, and I ordered one of those hand-held size fruit pies.  We drove home and walked into the house. He started eating his meal. I know that those fruit pies feel like they're about 300 degrees when you first bite into them, so I left it momentarily to let it cool off and went off to do something else.

When I came back a few minutes later, I looked for my pie. "Where did you put my pie?" I asked George.  "Um...  I ate it," he said. "I was still hungry, and I thought you weren't interested in it anymore."

I was furious. And believe me; he will never eat another unauthorized fruit pie again. When I found out he had eaten my pie, suddenly I was 12 years old, started to cry and refused to talk to him. He apologized, and even bought me flowers the next day. But it took me days to forgive him. Why?

Because when I was a teenager, my already dysfunctional family of origin disintegrated to a state where it was so chaotic, there was never a consistent supply of food in the house. I ate huge lunches at school and snacked all I could at my babysitting jobs because that was all I could count on. I existed several years in a state of "food insecurity." When my husband ate my fruit pie, it hit one of my oldest wounds.

George and I can laugh about it now. It says a lot about him that he said "sure" when I asked if I could write about this in my blog. He felt just awful when he saw how it affected me. I fully expect that an occasional drive-thru fruit pie will come home with him after work in the future, just as a surprise love offering.

But the "fruit pie filch" incident was another reminder of the following: sometimes people act weird because they're weird. But I suspect that when most people act weird-or for some reason can't live up to others' expectations-it's because there's a very good reason why.