The Sulk.

How many times a day do we take offence?

How often does our excessive sensitivity to other people’s attention and words get on our nerves?

This is what happens to many people… and at certain times in life, it has happened to all of us… without exception.

The trouble is that if this feeling pervades our very being and shapes the way we are, then we will never be content.

People react in the way that is most natural to them and their nature, and these behaviours originate in childhood.

There are people who take offence at actions, glances or words; others don’t even get upset by what is actually an offence – or, very wisely, let it go without feeling the slightest disturbance.

And here, if we think back on events that have happened to us and our friends, there is no shortage of examples.

I know several people who need to be ‘treated with kid gloves’; they take offence at the slightest thing, or misinterpret certain words… and then, just like small children, they sulk. 

This is a facial expression combined with a pursing of the lips and a furrowing of the brow that expresses unease, annoyance or resentment.

We usually speak of ‘sensitivity’ when one is overly attentive and sensitive to what others say to us; of ‘touchiness’ when, in addition to this excessive sensitivity, there is also resentment, animosity and closed-mindedness.

These are attitudes often seen in children up to a certain age (around 7–8 years old), but which an adult should have outgrown.

Venturing into a field outside my own – that of philosophy – Aristotle argued that those who take offence easily are unable to manage their anger and react disproportionately.

Immanuel Kant asserted that such people react emotionally rather than rationally.

Those who feel offended assess what the other person says to them based on how they feel (pain or annoyance) rather than on the objectivity of what is actually said.

Despite this philosopher’s pessimistic view, I find Schopenhauer’s metaphor (from 1851) particularly beautiful.

In short, on a cold winter’s day, a group of porcupines huddle together to keep warm, so as not to freeze to death. After a while, they realise the pain caused by each other’s quills and so move apart.

However, driven once more by the cold, they draw closer again and start pricking one another… so, by repeatedly moving apart and coming together, they find the right distance between them to keep warm without pricking one another.

This metaphor aptly describes the behaviour of those who take offence easily and sulk.

One solution suggested by this metaphor is to find the right relational distance, based on good manners.

Returning to my own field, that of psychology, this topic has also been addressed there.

For Freud, the tendency to take offence is seen as a defence mechanism associated with narcissism, punitive moral standards, and projection; that is, with what is ours, what lies within us – which we perceive and attribute to others.

The touchy person believes themselves to be great and flawless; an image they have constructed to hide their own weaknesses.

Young children live in a world that revolves entirely around them, and if an adult remains stuck in this phase, every word, expression or glance is seen as a personal attack.

Marie-Louise von Franz, a Jungian analyst, speaks of sensitivity as a specific aspect of our inferior functions.

She argues that almost all of us become childish when this dimension is stimulated.

Unable to tolerate the slightest criticism, we feel under massive attack – and so we force the rest of humanity to interact with us with great caution.

In doing so, we fail to realise that this behaviour of ours is a form of tyranny.

Personally, I think that irony and self-irony can be of help – precisely to cope better with the annoyances of ‘over-sensitively’ perceiving the voices of others. 

Irony and self-deprecating humour allow us to play down the problem that has gripped us, and point to a vital path that requires tenacity.

We need irony and self-deprecating humour to re-examine our thoughts and feelings from a different perspective.

This is no easy task, because to ensure these feelings do not get the better of us, we need to make an effort and practise….

We really do need to summon our inner strength, and sometimes laugh at our own shortcomings or flaws.

This makes life better.

Sometimes, in addition to the ‘ghosts’ we believe we have internalised, there are comments directed at us that are genuinely hurtful; and here it might perhaps be useful to point out to these people that anyone could find themselves in such situations.

So that we do not allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by what hurts us, or what we think has hurt us.

[This brief reflection, too, stems from my school days and professional training].

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi, Psychologist and Psychotherapist