Conflict in any relationship is inevitable and can even be healthy. But it’s only healthy if addressed well. Otherwise, conflict can lead to brutal fighting. Or even worse, distance in the relationship and a cold, cold chill. I have experienced both in relationships, and it’s. not. good.
This article is the first of a three-part series. I think we first have to think through when we do indeed need to address something. Then, we’ll talk about extending grace and healthy ways to address issues.
Not everything is something you should be willing to “die on the hill for.” Have you heard this saying? It’s a war metaphor. It means that a particular issue is important enough that you are willing to insist on your viewpoint.
What’s something you’ll die on the hill for? Let’s use a common issue: a partner consistently leaving a wet towel on the bathroom floor. Even though this kind of issue is often fought about by couples I know, it often stars on “10 arguments you should never have with your spouse” lists online.
I agree. And, I don’t agree. The fact of the matter is, I don’t think the topic of conflict is something for which we can blithely write a list. Our personal circumstances factor into these decisions far too much for that.
OK, so your partner leaves a wet towel on the floor every morning. The reason is important. Does he do it because he is selfish and only cares about himself? Does she do it because in the house she grew up in, this was normal, and she doesn’t understand that this is a big deal to you? Or, maybe he does it even though you’ve asked him not to because deep down, he disagrees with the importance you have placed on this issue and perhaps he even thinks you are being disrespectful to him when you point it out.
I don’t know the answer, but do you agree that the answer matters and probably differs depending on the home and the people in it?
I can count on one hand the number of fights my husband and I have had in twenty-nine years. But two of them have resulted from me trying to organize him. A few years into our marriage, I became increasingly annoyed by the papers piled up all over the house. I am not a super duper clean person who needs everything perfectly placed, but this particular thing bugged me. A lot. Up until that point, we had lived in very small apartments or homes, often with one or two bedrooms and one living area. Bobby didn’t have an office, and he often had to work out of a corner of the Living Room. And, we disagreed about form versus function. He thought empty flat spaces, like a dining table, were places to store things (read piles of paper and stuff); I thought they were places to perch something pretty, like a flower arrangement.
Here’s how the first fight went down. I love to organize things! Have a big party that needs organizing? I’m your girl. How about a complex project with many moving parts and people? I’ll make a project plan with tasks, target dates, and owners, and it will be beautiful. I’m the kind of person who likes to make lists, and I love to check things off that I’ve completed. In fact, if I do something that isn’t on the list, I’ll write it just so I can check it off. So, in this situation, what would a girl like me do? I bought a filing cabinet, and spent a whole Saturday happily organizing and filing every piece of paper related to Bobby Martin Racing that I could find. It was so satisfying and I truly thought that Bobby Martin of said Bobby Martin Racing would come home, think I was a fantastic wife and business partner, and forevermore see the wonderful benefits of my mad skills.
I eagerly waited and then….no. He was not smiling and appreciative. He did not thank me, and he certainly did not think this was a good idea. He kept it together for a while, but as the days passed and time after time he could not find the item he was looking for, he got madder and madder. Then…we made up for all the fights we hardly ever had in this one massive explosion. Wow! I was offended and still could not understand why in the world he thought these piles of disorganized stuff were better. He made it very clear that he did not like my method. He may have explained why, but if he did, I wasn’t listening. After a few days of me not speaking to him, he apologized. I apologized, and we went on. But I didn’t really understand.
Several months later, I did a similar thing again. As I write this, I am literally shaking my head. What an idiot. Bobby has always done his own laundry, and all of the sheets and towels. I do only my laundry. You think I would have been satisfied with that, right? But no. I thought his drawers were too disorganized. In my defense, the Big Store Organization Department is my crack. I was seduced by these little plastic organizers that you can fold and place your socks in. And your tee-shirts. And your underwear. Again, I truly thought he would like them. He did not. The fight climaxed when he dumped the contents of every drawer into a pile on the bed and the floor and yelled “Organize this!” Ohhhhh myyyyy.
It was fantastic! My father never raised his voice in our home, and I was intimidated, fascinated, repelled and attracted all at the same time by my quiet and Godly husband’s passion over plastic containers. Socks, underwear and shirts were flying all over the bedroom. And…it started to strike me as funny. At one point, I just started laughing. I couldn’t help it. He looked at me incredulously and then. And then. He started laughing, too. And soon we were both laughing so hard! The fight was over. (In case you’re wondering, I did not clean up the mess.)
A few days later, after the sting of everything lessened, we really talked. I came to understand then, and even more now as the years have gone by, that he is different from me. Order is not the most important thing to him. He is creative; I am analytical. While I am most organized if things are physically filed away (my mind files things away like that too), he HAS TO SEE the piles to remember what is there. He actually knows what is in each pile. Filing everything in a different place away from sight totally screwed him up. This next part I am honestly just understanding as I physically type this: Taking his things and thinking that I knew the best way to organize them for his business was disrespectful to him. It assumed my way is best and that his way is not. Or worse, it assumed that he didn’t even have a way. Respect is very important to men, and I admit this is an area I am still trying to master. Ugh.
So, why did I tell you this personal and embarrassing story that frankly doesn’t make either one of us look too great? First, we are not perfect, and if I’m going to purport to teach this stuff, I need to be transparent. But second, it relates to the subject at hand.
The “lists” categorize things like this one as something not needing to be addressed and by all means, don’t fight about it! But, now that I have some years on me, I get that I really did need to understand this important difference between us. And, if you don’t talk about it, you won’t understand. Instead you’ll go along month after month, year after year thinking that you’re being the better person by putting up with the other person’s obvious fault. That’s not always a bad plan, by the way. But in this case, I would have been mistaken.
The point is these issues are complex and whether they need to be addressed or not really needs to be decided by you. And you might get a few bumps along the way, but just keep listening and trying to learn and you’ll get it.
In this case, wow, I could handled it better, though.
So, here’s the Rest of the Story. We now live in a house where Bobby has an office. With a door that closes. That really helps. But, the biggest change has been the continuous changing of my heart.
I have many affectionate nicknames for my husband; one of them is “Analog Man” due to his dislike of many things digital. A few years ago, our files were attacked by a ransom ware virus. If you’re not familiar with these, really bad guys send you an innocent looking email and when you open it, it releases a virus that makes every document you have unreadable. Then, they ask you for ungodly amounts of money to make them readable again. We refused to pay, and every invoice, every speech, every tax document – every document – was lost. This was a month before Thanksgiving, and my 300 line project plan for a dinner I organize for the community every year was obliterated. I was having a mini meltdown in the family room when my husband quietly left the room. He came back from his office a minute later and handed me a hard copy of my project plan. I didn’t even know this existed. I literally got on my knees, bowed my head to the floor and laughingly said “I bow to the Analog Man! I will never say another word to you about your piles of papers!”
And to this day, I have not.
If your fighting to save your marriage, this might help.
Fighting To Save Your Marriage
