Until Death Do Us Part (And To the Death It Will Be)
Pretend You’re Good At Fighting 🥊
Hi, it’s me.
Bryan and I got into a fight a couple weeks ago. Well, not a fight so much as a mutual shutting down. Basically, I said something he had a sensitive reaction to, I tried to clarify what I meant, he shut it down by declaring he wasn’t ready to talk about it, so I said, Fine, then. I’m going to bed.
(I will add in full disclosure that on my way inside from our backyard fire pit, where this intense exchange happened, I flipped over a box of snack chips. Small bags of Doritos, Fritos, and Ruffles scattered around the patio in my wake, and I felt very satisfied at my small act of immature defiance.)
(Yes, I’m a grown-ass woman with a mortgage. What’s your point?)
Once inside, I performed the angry version of shutting down the house for the night (aggressively making tomorrow’s coffee, aggressively turning down the heat, aggressively running the dishwasher) while making a mental list of all the reasons Bryan was a jerk and practicing my vindication speech for tomorrow’s follow-up battle.
(You know you do this, too… when you’re 100% right about everything.)
In the middle of this internal tirade, a clear thought entered my brain and interrupted everything: I know he loves me, so we’ll figure it out.
Huh. Interesting, I thought. And then, Dammit, that bitch in my head is right.
I went to bed without finishing the second draft of my vindication speech. The next morning, Bryan immediately apologized for reacting so sensitively, I apologized for my chip-tantrum, and we moved on.
This has not always been how fights happen in our house.
Fights used to be louder, angrier, and lasted longer, and both of us had our particular style of seething. Mine was more outward and verbally destructive, and his more inward and self destructive.
For my part, I used to default to the assumption that Bryan was out to get me somehow. To prove that I was wrong or stupid or somehow inferior. I attacked every offense through this lens, fighting to prove my point, presence, or worth. When I slipped into this mode, there was no way to resolve these arguments except for him to admit I was right about whatever. Whether I was actually right or not didn’t matter, the important thing was that I won the argument.
This wasn’t how all the fights happened, of course. But like you, we had our sensitive subjects, the seemingly untouchable soft spaces we each defended like an injured wild animal.
It was in this context that I considered what my inner voice told me the other day, that I know he loves me and we’ll figure it out. I was stopping the spiral, breaking the pattern.
We’re happily married, coming up on 23 years this summer. I feel very lucky that our relationship has survived the unwinding of generational trauma, evangelical church abuse, mental health emergencies, and the simple pettiness that comes from living with the same person for so long.
Part of what helps is therapy and community, but also that we see each other evolving and moving toward one another. It gives me hope in the darkest times that we can each see how the other person is not the same as we were 20 years ago. We’ve been able to let go of old patterns and grow into new ones.
In the premarital counseling we received through our church at the time, our pastor advised us to never argue in front of our future kids. I thought this was the dumbest thing I ever heard and proceeded to ignore his advice for over 20 years. Through our family culture of apology and reconciliation (which I wrote about at length HERE), the kids have experienced a model of conflict and resolution, not perfection. Arguing, and even yelling, is different than violence or contempt, of course. Healthy conflict is part of life; better to have good examples of working through it, in my opinion. Although I suppose that’s easier to say when we’re still together.
Last summer I very normally asked Bryan when the Kevin James Thornton show was, because I couldn’t find it on the calendar.
“I didn’t get tickets,” he said “You told me not to.”
“I did WHAT?” This was news to me.
“When I asked you about it, you hesitated and then asked me how much they were.”
“And that was me telling you not to buy them?”
“You had a tone.”
“I had a tone?”
“You had a tone.”
“Are tickets still available?”
There were still tickets available, and we went to The Tacoma Comedy Club about a month later.
When the host seated us about midway back, Bryan foolishly pointed toward the front and said, “We could have had one of those front reserved tables. I had the tickets in my cart.”
“That’s your problem, not mine.”
“You told me not to buy them.”
“Say whatever you want, buddy. If you die first, that’s not how the story will be told.”
(I always get the last word!)
Until next time,
Jen
p.s. We also had a fight about ketchup once, that wasn’t really about ketchup. What petty thing have you argued about that wasn’t really about that petty thing?
What petty things HAVEN’T we argued about? We’re at 33 years now, and I swear the first 27 were full of fights … and then we stopped, mostly anyway. I think we both recognized it just wasn’t worth it, and we were gonna love each other anyway so why all the ruckus? Thanks, Jen, that was a nice one.
“You know you do this, too… “
I’ve aggressively made my share of tomorrow’s coffee.
Regarding the comedy tickets: “Tone” is a real thing. It’s also a learned behavior. If I’m honest, had my wife and I had that same exchange, it would’ve played out the same way. And I’d like to think it would’ve had the same happy resolution.
In my experience— and I’m generally curious to hear from others here— marriage got easier (for lack of a better term) once our kids got older. We’re able to spend more time as Kevin & Becky and less as Mom and Dad. Hopefully, that makes sense?