Eleven years ago today, Phil and I exchanged vows, partied with our friends and family, and set out on a three-week road trip honeymoon that included a daylong hike to the top of a mountain in the Great Smoky range where we slept in a primitive cabin accessible only by foot.
Some people thought we were crazy. Especially about the road trip honeymoon part. Hours together in a car? That’s the basis for newlywed fighting, they said. Phil and I dismissed their warnings because we got along really well. In our three years of dating/engagement, we didn’t really argue. We were great friends and enjoyed a lot of the same things. Conversation flowed easily between us. I could not imagine us being one of those couples who fought.
Fighting couldn’t be good for a relationship, I was sure.
Photo by CloudVisual on Unsplash
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Fast forward almost 11 years.
We are sitting next to each other on the couch in silence. The kids are in bed and we are trying to decide what to watch for our evening entertainment. Generally, this is difficult for me. Phil had suggested a comedy special or a movie. I was leaning toward an episode of a TV show that we’re working on finishing. For once, I actually voiced that this was my preference. Usually I’m a “whatever-you-want-to-watch” sort of girl because I don’t want what I want to create conflict. (The Enneagram is helping me sort out this part of my personality.)
Phil was sticking with the comedy special or movie, so given those two choices, I chose movie. He then offered me three or four options, all of which only sounded okay to me. I showed little to no enthusiasm for any of them and could not make a choice. I tried to explain to Phil that because a movie wasn’t what I wanted in the first place, that whatever movie he wanted to watch would be fine with me because all the options were equal in my mind.
This was not the answer he was looking for. (My husband’s Enneagram number is helping us understand this better.) I could sense him beginning to shut down. This was a Saturday night, the end of his longer stretch of work for the week and the end of my full day with the kids home all day. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch, which I often interpret as the end of the conversation.
I sat there looking at him, trying to find words to say out loud. I did not want the evening to be over before it began. I also don’t like to sit and do nothing. There have been times in our relationship when I would have just walked away, grabbed a book and headed to bed for the night, leaving my husband on the couch to pout (that’s how I saw it). This was my temptation this night also.
So, I said some words out loud to this effect: “I’m not going to just sit here.” I don’t remember the other words I said, but I kept talking, wanting to provoke Phil to say something, anything. (This is not my usual modus operandi.) I didn’t want to run away, but I didn’t want to be bored. I kept trying to explain my point of view, which was met with mostly silence. At one point, I got up from the couch to take a bowl back to the kitchen. I remember Phil telling me to “Go. Get out of here.” It was a hurtful sort of tone, and there was a part of me that was shocked at his words. A bigger part of me didn’t believe he meant what he was saying, so I raised me voice and said, “You don’t mean that.” He countered with my own words back to me, the ones where I said I wasn’t going to sit there next to him if this is how he was going to be.
It was like hearing what I said for the first time. I understood how it sounded when I said it. Like I couldn’t handle his emotions so I was going to abandon him.
“That’s not how I meant it,” I said. I still needed to take the bowl to the kitchen, but I promised him I’d be back.
There was still some silence when I sat back on the couch but somehow we managed to talk through what was going on. Part of the motivation for making up was that the next day was Mother’s Day and we had plans to go out for breakfast early. Neither of us wanted to still be fighting then.
We settled on an episode of Doctor Who (another show we’re still catching up on). Our Saturday night was not ruined.
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Maybe these kinds of things happen in your marriage, but they haven’t happened often in ours. I was surprised at how good I felt after this argument. (That’s different than feeling good about the argument.) I felt like something had shifted in our relationship.
I remember days early in our marriage when my opinion would differ from Phil’s. It didn’t even have to be a big thing. I thought it was my “job” to go along with whatever would make him happy. Because I thought if I could keep conflict out of our relationship, we’d have a good relationship. Years of therapy helped me uncover how unhealthy this was for me.
I’ve discovered that I have a mind full of my own wants and needs and it’s okay (better than okay, it’s necessary) for me to express those and take appropriate action. And I don’t need to feel bad if what I want or need is not the same thing as what Phil wants or needs. Neither do I need to feel bad for meeting my wants or needs.
This runs counter to some things I learned and believed in my younger life.
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I am 40 years old and I am just now finding my voice and the courage to use it.
Change, I’m learning, requires some conflict. Maybe it’s internal conflict. Maybe it’s relational. Maybe it’s public. But for anything to change, there will be some resistance, and I never thought I would be a person who creates conflict on purpose.
But this is part of who I am.
I worry sometimes that if I challenge something or raise a question that doesn’t go along with whatever is keeping the peace that I will be viewed as someone who creates conflict for the sake of creating conflict. I don’t want to be a drama queen or accused of “rocking the boat” but what I’m learning is that sometimes the boat needs to be rocked. And every time I use my voice to speak up, to ask a question, to challenge something, it costs me something personally. So, I have to make sure whatever I’m fighting for is worth the personal cost.
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I always thought it was a no-brainer that my marriage is important to me. I love Phil and I want to be with him for a long time, but only recently have I seen how much work we have to do, how sometimes we have to fight if we want something to be better.
Photo by Ben Rosett on Unsplash
Sometimes fighting looks like giving each other space to work on our own garbage and become the best versions of ourselves. Sometimes it looks like a literal fight with raised voices and hurt feelings. Sometimes it looks like caring for each other in ways that are sacrificial. Sometimes it looks like caring for ourselves in the same ways.
This is some of what 11 years has taught me.
That, and it’s possible for a marriage to get better with time. When I look at our life, the people we’ve become in those 11 years, I see only better things ahead. Our marriage today is better than it was a year ago, worlds apart from the day we set out on the road trip adventure.
It has not been easy. (You can read about some of those struggles on this blog.)
It has been worth it.
Whatever it takes to make it better. Even conflict.
