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Let’s Fight: A Conflict Observed

We have 5 children, ages 1, 4, 6, 7, and 8, which means that bedtime is an exercise in personal restraint and emotional security on the best of nights, and a crucible of pain, panic, and punishment the rest of the time. Our routine includes a bedtime story which is tricky in our case because the four oldest (all boys) are split into two bedrooms. This means I have to sit in the hall and do my best to be heard by everyone.

Should I fail to be heard, it is inevitable that a question will emerge from the darkness of one of the rooms. This question must be answered over and amid the bombardment of other questions about the first question coming from the second room and, without fail, if more than two people try to speak at once, the four year old takes the chaos as a sign that bedtime is over and sets off on a quest for a drink or snack. This is all further complicated by the fact that our 1 year-old daughter sleeps in another room off of the same hallway and is not a heavy sleeper.

Sanity, for Dad, stands on the edge of a knife as any disruption could unhinge the entire process. This is not truly a problem on the nights that I am operating within my own freedom from shame and my heart abounds with patience (a topic for other posts), but the night before last just wasn’t one of those nights.

About halfway through the story, the baby began crying. Now, in this particular season, my wife takes the lead with putting the baby down and I take charge of the other four. So I pressed on with the story allowing my frustration to build with the volume of my voice, annoyed that she was taking longer than usual to make it up the stairs (probably doing something selfish like making lunches or cleaning something).

At long last she makes it to the hall, steps over me, and opens the door to the baby’s room spilling the full fury of the crying, the white noise machine, and the sound of her own voice into the hallway bringing our story to a full stop. AND. SHE. LEAVES. THE. DOOR. OPEN.

This is where my training and experience as a therapist gives me superhuman insight and understanding; she is trying to piss me off. She must be mad that she had to stop whatever she was doing and come up the stairs when I was sitting right outside the baby’s room and could have handled it myself. She is sending a message loud and clear that she sees herself as an adult but I just don’t matter at all. Such brazen disregard and lack of respect for what I’m trying to do can only be explained as a deliberate, petty, and personal act of cruelty.

After the bedtime story was finished, I came down stairs, blood pressure through the roof, breathing through my nose and hovered over my wife like a Harry Potter Dementor while she sat on the couch and I said, “So when you, um, left the door open, were you trying to ruin my life?”, with a bit of a chuckle toward the end.

Now, before you judge me, you need to know that this approach actually represents 10 years worth of progress in conflict resolution in our marriage. I know in my head that I’m reacting to stuff that isn’t in the room. I know that this is really about my history and I have learned enough self awareness through the years to know that I’m feeling the way I’m feeling because I’m struggling with my own demons and triangles (another post). But a sentence that half accuses and half allows space for the possibility that I’m way off base is still the best I can muster.

A few years ago I would have started the conversation with guns blazing, my wife would have zeroed in on the accusation and attacked in turn through her own hurt as the two of us spiraled out of control. With each turn of the interaction we would have escalated the heat and ugliness of the attacks in response to the deepening of our own pain until we couldn’t speak to each other.

We are learning a new dance. We are learning to lean into vulnerability instead of accusation. When I asked her if she was trying to ruin my life I chuckled because even as I formed the words I was wrestling with feeling it was true and knowing it was ridiculous. That’s perhaps a childish way to get it all out, but it was the best I could do in the moment. I was, in effect saying, “I’m hurt!! I wish I could blame it on you because that would be easiest, but I know I can’t.”

She smiled, half in amusement and half in appreciation for the way I was struggling, and explained that she left the door open because she thought she was only going to be in there long enough to pick up a passy. Her response graciously ignored the tone of attack in my voice and moved us yet another step toward understanding. In this instance, the whole conflict lasted only about 20 seconds because we each exercised, imperfectly, as much security and courage as we could. With each turn of the exchange we were de-escalating rather than escalating the hurt. When we are hurt, the least intuitive thing in the world is to take a step toward the person who hurt us and drop our guard. It’s so much easier to push back, put up our guard, and move toward isolation.

Healthy marriages don’t have an absence of conflict. We are going to hurt each other. The two feet of bed space between the backs of a hurt couple can feel like an unbridgeable chasm. Every marriage experiences the pain of conflict. I am often amazed at how quickly and easily my own heart can turn from fondness and admiration for my wife to frustration, accusation, and even contempt. But here’s the crazy thing, when we use conflict to move us toward vulnerability instead of isolation, conflict becomes an instrument of intimacy in our marriage rather than a vessel of destruction.

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Some Thoughts on Thoughts: The Power of Words

Thoughts. The ever-present voice in our head that we often only pay much attention to when there’s a problem. Even then, we often hand the bulk of the blame to our emotions and don’t give much thought to our thoughts- the litany of words constantly running through our minds. In this series of articles, I want to highlight a few key points and observations I’ve made about our thoughts from my personal life and my work as a therapist.

First, let’s talk thoughts “versus” emotions to clear a little air here. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way thoughts and emotions, to some extent, have been philosophically pitted against one other- as if they’re enemies or on different sides and we have to pick one. This simply isn’t realistic. If that were true, we’d all have to choose to be either emotionless robots or puddles. We can easily look at people on either extreme- of over-identifying with thoughts (more on that in a later article) or with emotions- and clearly see that they aren’t interacting with the world around them in a balanced, healthy way. But, even so, often when I ask someone about their emotions, I hear claims about preferring to be a “more rational person.” To me, that seems a bit like your physical therapist asking you how your legs are feeling and you tell her you prefer to concentrate on your arms. Both thoughts and emotions are on the same team. We need them both and they work best together, assuming we can separate them at all. As I wrote about in another article- “The Truth About Pain”– we can no more separate thoughts and emotions than we can fully separate emotional and physical pain. I bring this up to clarify that in this series when I’m writing about thoughts I’m doing so under the assumption and understanding that thoughts and emotions are not completely separate entities.

The next part in this series will focus on the topic of self-talk so here I want to only touch on this idea as it relates to the power of our words. It is hard to argue with the fact that words have power. Words play a part in much of what inspires us. Speeches by charismatic leaders have started revolutions (think Hitler, for example) and have converted people to religions or ideas they never considered (think brilliant authors like C.S. Lewis). They’ve convinced people to change entire perspectives. We see this on both the positive and negative ends of the spectrum. Either way, it’s difficult to deny that words have power.

I see this present itself in a few different, very significant ways in my work as a therapist. First, there have been countless articles, books, and research studies since the dawn of the field of counseling about the effects of our thoughts and internal beliefs on our mental health. In fact, there is an entire model of counseling called “Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy” (CBT) that posits that our thoughts directly impact our behavior. To put it simply, you can significantly change behaviors by changing the thoughts that drive them. Without getting into a theoretical debate regarding Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy, I believe most of us in the field of mental health counseling would agree that our thoughts (the beliefs we’re rehearsing and justifying in our heads) have a significant impact on our behaviors and our general well-being.

The second and probably most compelling way I see the power of words work in my counseling office is when they are spoken, often for the first time, by my clients. Sometimes I even feel a bit guilty about how much this continues to amaze me. As a therapist, I know that so much of the power of therapy lies in the clients’ courage to talk about and through things in a way they haven’t done before. I say I feel guilty at times because, deep down, I know this to be true- that there is something nearly magical about talking through something difficult and vulnerable in the presence of a non-judgmental witness (whether this is a therapist or a friend), especially for the first time. However, I’m still amazed each time I hear a client say, “Wow, I feel so much better/lighter/freer.” when I’ve essentially only sat as an actively-listening, empathetic witness. It’s such a beautiful part of how we are foundationally social creatures who, at our cores, are ready-built for relationships. Peter Levine (1997), the originator of Somatic Experiencing, speaks to this profound truth by stating, “Trauma is not what happens to us, but what we hold inside in the absence of an empathetic witness.” The opposite of this, then, also holds true. Hurt that happens in relationship can be healed in relationship.

Third, on a personal level, working as a counselor has changed my view regarding the impact of the spoken word. Before, honestly, I don’t know that I’d given a lot of thought to the topic. Yes, I was a sensitive kid so I was keenly aware of how others words could affect me but had never considered this on a more global level. I had given little thought to how my words affect others and, then even more so, how words have such power to heal, to harm, to stick to the insides of our heads, and to even lay the groundwork for lifelong beliefs about ourselves and the world around us. John Eldredge, author of Wild at Heart, speaks to the power of words by calling the detrimental words spoken over us, especially as children, as “wounds of the heart.”  He goes on to explain that if we hear a “message” enough times, we’ll eventually start to believe it to the extent that I believe my eyes are green (they are, by the way). We can come to believe it so wholeheartedly or so unquestionably that we accept it as fact. Once we then accept something as fact, the tint of our worldview lens tends to confirm rather than deny this “truth.” My colleague Allan spoke to this beautifully in his recent article about how these messages can play a part in our parenting. Some of the most powerful moments I’ve been a part of in my therapy office have been those in which I have had the opportunity to speak truth to obvious lies. Sometimes it’s the first time that person has heard (or better yet allowed) someone else to speak against their wounds masquerading as “facts.” From time-to-time, I think about that original moment(s) when the wound was first inflicted. I wonder whether or not the speaker had any clue the impact they were having on that person (often a child) and whether they would have said what they did if they had known. In his wonderful little book The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz (2008) writes, “The human mind is like a fertile ground where seeds are continually being planted. The seeds are opinions, ideas, and concepts. You plant a seed, a thought, and it grows. The word is like a seed, and the human mind is so fertile!” This is true whether the words spoken are harmful or affirming. I believe it is best for us to remain aware of just how fertile this soil is in ourselves and each other.

Words are powerful. As I said at the beginning, our thoughts are essentially the words we’re constantly speaking to ourselves. While I won’t argue that spoken and written words may differ in some ways than our thoughts, I think the backbone of the matter is the same. Words are powerful, even if no one but us hears them. In part two of this series, we’ll delve into the huge impact these specific types of words can have on our overall well-being.

 

Eldredge, J. (2011). Wild at Heart: Discovering the Secret of a Man’s Soul. Harpercollins Christian Pub.

Levine, P. A. (1997). Waking the Tiger. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books.

Ruiz, D. (2008). The Four Agreements. Thorndike, Me.: Center Point Pub.

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When it’s You Against You, Against You

“You hate me”, my five-year-old says through angry tears. I’m caught off guard by his accusation. My heart knows it isn’t true; nothing matters more to me than he does. But a different message is written across my scowling face. I’m mad and any stranger in the world who walked up right now would see plainly that, in this moment, we are against each other. I’ve made an enemy of a five-year-old child.

This is not the parenthood that I wanted. I wanted to be a safe, calm, and secure father for my kids. On days like this one, however, that vision gets away from me. My son has misbehaved and all he needs is loving and confident correction. But often I’m surprised to find that, apart from actually having anything to do with my kids, there is something in their misbehavior which is deeply threatening to me.

More than just about anything else, parenting has a way of dragging your stuff to the surface. This is because to be a parent is to be out of control. When I’m alone, I can arrange my world in such a way that I don’t have to hear the hurtful messages that, for one reason or another, I’ve been running from (and carrying with me) my whole life. Those messages are different from person to person and depend on our stories, but for most of us they essentially boil down to “you don’t matter, don’t count, and don’t deserve to be loved.”

Parenting precludes the stagnating luxury of hiding from these messages. Some days more than others, something in my kids’ (or wife’s or friends’ or coworkers’) behaviors blasts those messages on the surround-sound system of my internal world and I see now that those are the days that I don’t really believe in love at all. They are the days that I see life and all of its endeavors as proving ground for my validity and worthiness. I get sucked into the struggle of trying to get it all just right so that I might finally live down the accusations against me and be worth something in my own eyes. On these days, even my own children are either for or against me, and my capacity to love a five-year-old depends on the extent to which he cooperates in this test I’ve devised for myself.

But even on the days I fall prey to this trap, I know in my gut that it’s wrong. I know that isn’t how love works. Even on those days I could answer without hesitation that my children are worthy of love just because they are. We have it on the authority of Christmas that to be a human is to be made for, and the object of, love. They can’t earn it and they can’t lose it. When I forget this it is my failure, not theirs.

It is here that I have to deal with a difficult but life-giving dilemma: I can’t defend the inherent worthiness of my children to be loved while simultaneously disqualifying myself. Truly loving my kids, or anyone else, necessitates and depends on my willingness to receive that love for myself. It is in the security and peace of this love that I have the capacity to be the father I want to be and that my children deserve. If, like me, you have dragons to slay to gain access to that love, I promise you it’s worth the fight.

I am blessed this week by Andrew Peterson who lives out this truth in a song he wrote for his children:

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Tis the Season of Family Holiday Gatherings

While the weather seems to be unsure about it lately, the holidays are indeed upon us. Unfortunately, along with all of the blessings and joy that can come with the holiday season, the season also, paradoxically, offers its own unique set of stressors. I often have people ask me if my counseling practice slows down during the holidays due to so many people traveling. When I tell them that often people are more likely to seek out therapy around the holidays, I generally get a quick nod of understanding.

One of these seasonal stressors, for many of us, can be centered around extra time with extended family. You don’t have to look far to find books on the self-help shelf dealing with the topic of families and conflict. And you don’t have to ask too many people about how to deal with family conflict before you get similarly conflicting advice, even from therapists. We’re certainly not going to cover the entire topic of conflict with family in one blog entry, however there are two basic guideposts that, I think, can help us mentally and emotionally prepare for smooth(er) family interactions over the holidays.

1. The holidays really aren’t the best time to bring up conflict. One of my favorite tag lines for dealing with conflict is “strike when the iron is cold.” Having all your family together for a special and inherently somewhat stressful event is not an emotionally cold-iron-type of situation. When the water is already hot, it doesn’t take much for it to start boiling. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be the first to recommend that you deal with your conflict head on (generally in a one-on-one situation, by the way) but how about we pick Valentine’s or Columbus day if we’re really dying to deal with our family business on a holiday.

I’d recommend taking a moment to reflect on experiences of conflict that have gone reasonably well for you. Was it during an already heated or stressful moment- whether it be positive or negative stress? Was it in the presence of a lot of other people? Did the conflict occur in a setting or around a set of circumstances that rarely occur? I’m going to guess that the answer is no for at least one of those (and I didn’t even mention the eggnog). If we think about the specific factors involved in past successful conflict resolution, we might recognize that the harvest is rarely ripe for conflict at holiday gatherings.

2. One of my favorite metaphors to use in therapy centers around our expectations in relationship. It can be summed up in the statement “Don’t go to the hardware store looking for a loaf of bread.” Essentially, the wisdom in this saying is that we shouldn’t expect what someone can’t/won’t/hasn’t ever given us. It’s simply not realistic for us or fair to that person. If you walk into the hardware store and throw a fit about there not being bread on the shelves, you’ll get some deservedly weird looks and likely very little sympathy. Now this doesn’t mean we should boycott all hardware stores; they have their place and are really great when you need to build or fix something. We all need hardware store-type people in our lives. But when you’re hungry? Go somewhere else. Don’t bring up a political hot topic with your uncle who loves to say absurd, upsetting things; don’t try to get your empathy fix from the worst listener in the room. The reality is, when we do this, the unhealthy interaction which ensues is our responsibility more than theirs. After all, in that scenario, our faulty expectations and our desire to change people into someone they’re not is to blame.

Change is tough for all of us and we all know we’re not perfect and neither are any of our family members. We all know- at least intellectually- that we can’t change other people. However, it is still tempting to think that we are capable of bringing about change in other people through the sheer force of our expectations via our disapproval, disappointment, and sometimes emotional punishment when someone doesn’t live up to them. In that moment, I believe we need to take a long look in the mirror and deal with what lie we’re believing about our role in our relationship with that person. If my role is ever to change or fix someone, something has gone awry for us in that relationship. We’re always better off meeting people where they are, not where we want them to be. After all, that’s usually what we want from others too, right?

The beautiful thing about assuming this posture in our relationships is that these boundaries allow us the freedom to have true, deep, meaningful relationships with those around us. Having a relationship with someone who you feel over-responsible for is daunting and generally not sustainable for long-term relationship health. But when we assume a posture with those we love that says “You may not be a bakery so you may not be able to help me when I need a shoulder to cry on. But when my car breaks down, you are the first person I know I can call and I’m grateful for you for that,” we are giving that person the freedom, relationally, to be their authentic selves with us. Isn’t that what we all, sometimes desperately, desire to receive in our relationships?

When it comes to changing our interactions with our family, we are wise to remember, “When we are no longer able to change a situation- we are challenged to change ourselves” (Frankl, 1984). The amazing part about that is we often find that when we start by changing ourselves it can make all the difference.
Frankl, V. E. (1984). Man’s search for meaning: An introduction to logotherapy. New York: Simon & Schuster.

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