Communication

Paul and I do not communicate well, and that, I believe, is the source of most of our marital conflict.

(He's right, sigh; I do need to call our therapist and set up another session. Our first therapist worked for a nonprofit so she only cost us $30 per session and she made house calls. What could be more convenient? Our current therapist is just as amazing, but she's sort of the guru. So we (read: I, usually) wrangle child care, then we drive a long and awkward commute to pay $90 for a session. Ouch. At least we were still seeing therapist #1 when we were in crisis mode and needing twice weekly visits.)

Some examples of our continued crappy communication:

First, there's the ultimate one that drove us to the brink of divorce. I created our relationship as I wanted it to be, and Paul agreed with me every step of the way, never pointing out when he really disagreed, and, over time, became so angry with me and so disengaged that our marriage almost ended.

More recently, there was yesterday's fight: Ever since becoming pregnant for the first time, I've made a point to significantly increase my water intake. One of my strategies is to keep a nice plastic cup - quite distinct from all of our glasses - full and sitting out to serve as a reminder and lower the barrier to drinking. Usually, the cup is on the kitchen counter these days, as that spot's in the main flow of household traffic and yet is high enough/water resistant enough that the risks of child tampering and disastrous accidental spillage are minimized. Paul knows about my cup/water strategy, of course, but repeatedly picks up my glass and stacks it with the dirty dishes by the sink or in the dishwasher. What an odd thing to have a huge screaming fight over, yes? Usually, I ignore it and get a fresh glass. Maybe I make a comment about how the cup didn't need to be washed yet and I'll put it with the dirty dishes when it does, but what's the use of fighting over it? Apparently, the cup on the counter is "clutter" to Paul. (Those who've been to our home know that a solitary cup on the counter is the least of our clutter problem. What about the neighboring stacks of paper?) Somehow, last night, this all blew up into a huge argument about the damn cup and all that it represents in our relationship. I still have no idea how that happened; I wasn't even angry when I made my usual comment about him moving it yet again, but I sure hit a nerve.

Today: Paul went to the St. Louis Cardinals game as a guest of some vendors this afternoon. This isn't sour grapes, but we've been dealing with trust, honesty, and secret-keeping issues, and I had no idea that he wasn't at the office all afternoon. It's not on his calendar, and he didn't mention it today or at any time all week long. Early last week, he mentioned that he'd been invited to a game sometime this week and that he was trying to decide if he should go or pass the ticket along to someone who reports to him, and that was the end of the conversation. With mobile phones, not to mention living in the same damn house, it seems like he could have mentioned where he'd be, since it was definitely out of the ordinary today. (Paul has an office/desk/meetings job. Vendor excursions are very uncommon for him. And he made sure I knew all about his morning off-site meeting but didn't mention his very off-site afternoon adventure.)

Tonight: There was some fracas over us needing milk, Paul taking Ellie to gymnastics after supper and me taking Ada to get the milk, and Paul stopping off to get himself a treat (read: Starbucks, natch) on the way home and not getting me anything because he assumed that I'd gotten myself something while I was out getting the milk. meanwhile, of course, being me, I'd picked up treats for both of us (though not Starbucks!) at the store and had also gotten him a new box of the snack bars he prefers to keep in his desk at work.

With the significant exception of the first one, these are such small, minor issues, not worth fighting over. Except that they add up to excruciatingly common misunderstandings, mistaken assumptions, and failed communications. Result: a lot of frustration and tension.

Paul says that we're both sleep deprived, which makes us impatient and decreases our attention spans. That's true. But what's probably also true is that I'm very good at communicating (surprise!) and I figure that it's the same for everyone. I say what I want/need/feel/expect and depend upon everyone around me to be the same. I figure, "Hey, if you want something to be different, you have to ask for it." Like at Burger King. (Isn't that one of their old ad campaigns?)

My refrain: we both need to step back in each conversation and try to identify the assumptions we're making, then be more explicit to avoid sitcom-worthy miscommunications. Paul hears: You suck donkey balls.

So. Back to the therapist. Sigh.