RECIPROCITY OR REVENGE?

There’s a word we like very much: reciprocity.

We usually use it for good things.

You give me affection, I give you affection.

You respect me, I respect you.

You’re there for me, I’m there for you.

You care for me, I care for you.

It seems simple.

But no one ever said reciprocity had to exist only in a positive sense.

If you ignore me, I may start ignoring you.

If you stop being available to me, I may stop being available to you.

If you treat me coldly, I may respond with the same coldness.

And from my point of view, I might think:

“I’m simply giving back the energy I received.”

From yours:

“You’re doing this to get revenge.”

So where does reciprocity end and revenge begin?

Maybe the difference isn’t necessarily in what we do.

Maybe it’s in why we do it.

I can distance myself because continuing to be there for someone who isn’t there for me is hurting me.

Or I can distance myself because I want you to feel my absence.

From the outside, the behaviour looks the same.

On the inside, maybe it isn’t.

But we’re human. And we rarely do things for just one reason.

Maybe I need to protect myself while, at the same time, part of me would like you to miss me.

Maybe it’s reciprocity.

Maybe it’s revenge.

Maybe it’s a little of both.

There’s another problem: you can’t see my intention.

You can only see what I do.

I may feel that I’m setting a boundary.

You may feel that I’m punishing you.

And perhaps neither of us is necessarily lying.

When reciprocity is positive, we rarely question the intention behind it.

If you treat me with affection and I respond with affection, no one calls that revenge.

But when what we give back is unpleasant, the word quickly changes.

It stops being reciprocity.

It becomes revenge.

Maybe because we like reciprocity much more when what comes back to us feels good.

But there’s also a trap: calling everything we do in response to someone else “reciprocity” can be a convenient way of avoiding responsibility for our own choices.

“You did it first.”

That may be true.

But there is still a choice between what someone did to me and what I decide to do next.

If someone hurts me and I decide to stop being available to them, that may be a boundary.

If I deliberately look for a way to hurt them exactly where I know it will hurt and then say, “I only gave back what I received,” perhaps reciprocity is simply a nicer word for revenge.

So maybe the most important question is:

“What do I want to happen to the other person when I do this?”

Do I want to protect myself?

Do I want to restore balance?

Or do I want it to hurt?

Because if the goal is for you to feel what I felt, perhaps revenge has already entered the room — even if I continue to call it reciprocity.

But if what I’m doing only feels like revenge to you because, for the first time, you’re receiving what you used to give me…

is it really revenge?

One behaviour.

Two interpretations.

One person sees reciprocity.

The other sees revenge.

One sees a 6.

The other sees a 9.

And maybe the difference lies somewhere no one but ourselves can truly enter:

in our intention.

So before calling it reciprocity or revenge, perhaps one question is enough:

“Am I protecting myself, or am I trying to make you feel what I felt?”

Maybe it’s reciprocity.

Maybe it’s revenge.

Maybe it depends on where you’re looking from.