Tuesday, May 29, 2018

On Six Years of Marriage Communication

Andy and I celebrated our anniversary this year by going to see Hamilton (which was fraggin' awesome), and revisiting our tradition of watching our wedding video.  This year, we also considered updating the Peterson Family Scroll.  This is a gift that Andy gave me for our second wedding anniversary, a stretch of cream-colored fabric between two stained wooden rods, a special place to record significant milestones in our lives.  We've fallen behind on this--our Norway trip or moving to our new place from last year on it as of yet, and I believe that we were also intending on retracing a few other significant dates, like when we started working at Skyward if they weren't already present.

This sparked some interesting conversation--what counts as a significant event, worthy of being scribbled onto our permanent, family legacy?  What things are significant now that we don't realize are the start of something larger?  What have we learned?  

Even as Andy and I reflect on our six years of marriage to one another, it's fascinating to me to try and quantify what moments really meant a lot to us, which thoughts over these few years pop up first when we reflect back.  Our Norway trip was a big one, understandably, not only for the adventure and positive memories but for a few different, deep conversations and even a couple of heated ones.  Oddly enough, these arguments and some of those hard conversations stuck out to us, too.  I can remember clearly one of the first major breakthroughs we had in our marriage communication, when everything was falling apart with my health in our first year of marriage, and we each had to convince the other person that talking about what we were really feeling was better for our relationship than trying to shield the other from any additional negativity.  I wouldn't say that we have this perfected by any means, but we have some solid communication groundwork.  Some of this we've learned out of necessity and some of it stems from who we are--I don't have a lot of patience for passive-aggression; Andy doesn't appreciate mind games.  As a result, we are predispositioned to honesty and a bit more bluntness.  

Some conversations are still hard to have, but the framework that we've built in, that we have a way to fight, makes it easier.  As an example from the Norway trip itself, I didn't feel Andy was trusting me with directions; I had had more experience with mass transit as well as the half-memorized itinerary, and I was rather frustrated that he had to confirm each stop, action, platform, etc. with staff (e.g. the train route name indicates the final stop of the train but it still stopped at our necessary location; I was heading to our correct platform only to turn around and find that he had peeled off to find someone who worked at the train station to ask).  After a long plane flight and a few of these in short succession and we arrived in our first hotel room, I let him know what was on my mind.  Later on in the trip, Andy expressed his frustration that he didn't feel I was respecting my body's limits in the effort to try and pack in too much into our time there.

And when I say "expressed frustration," things can get a little sharp and it's on the edge of argument in that our emotions are definitely heightened and that we're tackling larger concerns but respect is still maintained.  I can tell Andy that there's something I need to get off of my chest and trust that he will listen to what I have to say.  He can trust me that this is a safe arena to discuss his concerns without being "punished" for it.  Even though we can be furious with the other, we have strategies and boundaries established in how to talk about some of these larger issues or grievances.  That's not to say that everything is solved in that one conversation.  We have a few reoccurring fights--I feel that I carry the emotional weight of the house without adequate appreciation; Andy feels that I'm too tight-fisted with elements of our budget and that I try to pack too much in to our collective schedule without respecting his schedule--but we actively talk about them.  

However, what makes the biggest difference in my mind is how we end the conversation--we brainstorm ways to try to prevent the issue from happening again.  His feelings are important to me, so even if I don't understand why he's upset, I listen to him work through it out loud and try to make any behavioral changes that might be necessary or suggest some alternations in mutual conversation that can stand as a flag to the other or otherwise approach the concern more smoothly.  As an example from a recent conversation, both parties can invoke the right to digest the current issue before coming up with the right apology, additional questions, etc. so that they can consider the issue fully rather than feeling bombarded in that moment, once both parties have had the opportunity to feel fully heard.  Another helpful one:  "is there anything else you would like me to understand?"  This one is useful in a few context, but in this one it helps the argument feel complete, that there's nothing else lingering or incomplete now that there is a space where it has been welcomed.  After any additional components are addressed, we move on to that planning stage, the mutual problem-solving state where we're both suggesting strategies and working together once more, with honest "what would help you in those moments?" or "what would you like from me when you're feeling that way?" or "how could I be more clear for you?" kinds of statements.  Effectively and intentionally, we're a team again.  Sometimes, we still need to be reminded to follow through on some of those changes, but that's a part of the process, too.

And with these parameters on how we bring up important matters and hurt feelings as a couple, we're able to move past them more healthfully.  Being able to work through the concern, too, also gets us back to other things faster, to move on to other things and adventures.  I wouldn't say our communication is perfect, but it's damn strong for six years, in my humble opinion.  

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