Two Mountains
Rumination is the search for vindication. It ends when you find enough grounds to protect your mountain.
I know a software developer, call her A. B is the manager of another team, handling a critical project with plenty of tasks to be done, and dealing with escalations from other teams. A offered to help. A’s manager C talked to B, and they agreed for A to volunteer. A jumped into the project, took charge of key technical decisions, executed fast, and cleared up some critical parts of B’s backlog of work. A didn’t expect anything from B other than some appreciation and positive feedback during the review time. At least A hoped for it.
But B felt differently. When the review time came up, C approached B for feedback on A. Her feedback was lukewarm. B told C that A’s work was not as consequential as A believed and that A should have handled technical decisions differently. For B, A’s heroics were unnecessary, and B’s team felt that A forced herself into the situation. B and her team could have lived without A.
A hears about it from C. That hurts A. After all the time and effort I put in, how could B say such a thing? How ungrateful! Had I not offered to help and intervened, their project would have gone completely sideways. This is what I get in return? If she had nothing to say, at least she could shut her mouth - instead, I had to hear from C that my work was not good enough for them. So thought A.
A starts building her case. I had to clean up B’s mess. I had to work late in the evenings to finish things from B’s backlog. It was such a mess before I intervened. I rescued their project. She rehearses her arguments. She imagines her future confrontation. Rumination begins.
What got upset in this situation?
What Actually Got Upset
A’s work for B’s project was real. The technical decisions that A made were real. The project did move. Neither B nor C would dispute any of these. What caused A’s rumination was the threat to her narrative.
A had built up a narrative about her involvement — she was the hero. B was unable to manage their project, and the situation required her intervention. When the need came up, she selflessly stepped in and worked extra hard to get the job done. A always cares for others and deserves to be seen as such. That is A’s version.
A built this narrative based on these and similar deeds she had done in the past for B and others. She had always been that way. She had examples — like medals on a wall. That narrative has been part of A’s mountain — she built it slowly over time. It feels solid, authentic, and indisputable. That helping nature has been a critical part of her identity, according to A.
When A heard of a different version from C, she began to ruminate about the situation. It was unsettling for A. In that rumination, she turned to her mountain for validation. The mountain rightfully validated her version — there are past stories like that to prove A’s helping nature. A has plenty of examples to give comfort. Yes, I’m right, thought A.
Yet, that validation was not enough for her. B’s narrative still bothered her.
She turns her attention to B — Such a mess. How could B manage a project like that — so many pending but critical decisions? What a mess it was before I intervened. It was awful. I have seen this before. B always struggled to manage her projects well. What I did was not good enough for B? How dare.
This counter-narrative began to settle A’s mind. A is right. B is incompetent. And ungrateful.
The Pattern
What got upset here was A’s story about herself. What she heard from C threatened her narrative. To fight back against that upset, A turns to her mountain for validation and builds a counter-narrative to find comfort. Once threatened, the mountain quickly builds its clouds.
This pattern is universal. Earlier in my career, I went through the same drama when my manager made someone else the lead on a project I did most of the work on. How could that manager not see my contribution? I ruminated for at least a week. On the day the lead role was announced, I got so disillusioned that I left work early and locked myself in a room at home. I turned to my mountain for comfort. My narrative that I did most of the work for that project helped me. I also had to build a counter-narrative about the manager and the person chosen as the lead. The manager was the villain, and that lead person was incompetent. I was the competent one — that counter-narrative comforted me. My mountain was defended.
It’s story versus story, fabrication versus fabrication. The internal drama continues till you feel vindicated. Rumination is the search for vindication. The mind eventually quiets down when it feels that the mountain is protected.
Buddhism has a precise name for this pattern: upādāna — attachment or clinging. Attachment forces defensive mechanisms — you had to be a hero again and make the others villains. In this process, the victim becomes the judge, who then reprimands the villains.
The vindication feels like the truth. It has a nice ending for A and, in the project lead situation, for me, although arriving after gut-churning rumination. A quick discussion by A with B would have revealed something that A had missed. A chat with my manager on what I could do to earn the lead role would have opened a different door. But the rumination got in the way.
The Chuckle
A has stories about herself, decorated in her mountain. B has stories, similarly adorning their mountain. B must have ruminated too, seeking validation and finding fault with A. B’s project was, of course, not in good shape. Then they formed clouded views of each other — B first, then A — clouding their judgment. They mirrored each other’s behaviors, each seeking vindication and defenses. This conflict is about view versus view and story versus story, not about who is right.
Hurt, A shared her story with me. It reminded me of situations when I was similarly hurt and ruminated. I knew who was upset. So I changed the question — What got upset?
That question helped A detach from the situation and see what I’m seeing. There are two mountains on the stage, each looking to defend its position. Each was upset and was seeking answers. Not feeling vindicated, each was checking whether their shape and mass were intact and looking for weaknesses in the other. That way of seeing the situation made her chuckle.
Next time, when you catch yourself hurt, defending, or protecting, consider the question: What got upset?