My Inability to Argue

I wrote/drew this several months ago, but I tried to make it one giant scrollable cartoon, a la The Oatmeal and it turns out that Blogger does not like that so much.  Right now, I'm in that magical period of finals being complete at doctor school, concerts being done at high school, and only two gigs on the horizon, which means I finally had the time to chop it up into individual pictures, all of which have purple backgrounds because, again, was originally one big cartoon.  Enjoy!

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When I disagree with someone about something, my fight-or-flight instincts come out of Sleep Mode and start warming up.

My brain starts to carefully weight the decision of whether or not to engage in debate.
Pro:

1. We will execute the task correctly

Con:

1. This person will not like being told that he or she is incorrect.
2. This person may become embarrassed or frustrated.
3. Which is pretty much the same as angry.
4. ANGRY AT ME.
5. WILL NOT LIKE ME ANYMORE.
6. EVER EVER EVER
7. Or this person will refuse to accept my evidence as valid
8. And will take the use of allegedly invalid evidence as proof that I am stupid
9. THINKS I AM STUPID
10. WILL NOT LIKE ME ANYMORE
11. Or this person will bully me into acquiescence
12. OW MY FEELINGS
13. Also, there is the chance that we will execute the task incorrectly.
14. Which will cause whoever is expecting a correctly done task to be disappointed.
15. DISAPPOINTED AT ME.
16. WILL NOT LIKE ME ANYMORE.
17. EVER EVER EVER
18. I WILL NEVER HAVE FRIENDS AGAIN

Occasionally, the issue at hand is so important, or I believe my evidence to be so irrefutable, that I do choose to argue my side.  Carefully.

In cases where the issue is not very important or there's not the possibility of someone being hurt or disappointed by an incorrect conclusion or one that I disagree with (and no, I do not always believe those two conditions to be synonymous), there is no pro-con listing to be done.  My decision is obvious.

When someone comes around to my conclusion without any prompting from me, I experience levels of joy that are probably not healthy.

The degree to which I loathe argument really cannot be overstated.  Even in non-argument contexts, if someone employs a tone that implies anger in the slightest, even if it isn't directed at me, my adrenaline starts pumping, my mind freezes up, and my throat catches as if I were about to cry.  Often I find myself unable to talk, because my brain cannot supply me with words and even if it could, my voice couldn't phonate to say them.

Thank goodness for email and texting, which allows me to sequester myself in a solitary location and cry after every reply that says something other than, "It's ok" or "I still love you."  I can let my wave of emotions pass, wait for the Logic Machine to come back online, and make a measured response.

I have many strengths.  I have a pretty good musical ear and am occasionally a competent pianist, I make people laugh on the regular and I can run for an hour without stopping as long as the weather, my diet, my mood, the alignment of the planets and that day's episode of Maury are all right.  But to me, people who can handle arguments like it's no big deal or who argue for fun, like debate team members, may as well be superheroes.