I keep forgetting it’s not just me anymore.
But then it is me – my likes, dislikes, and character.
But it’s not just about me anymore.
But how do we talk about stuff when his likes, dislikes, and character, sometimes seems to clash with mine?
This long weekend was tiring. We didn’t do anything crazy. We read a lot, laughed a lot, and walked around beautiful 60-degree sunshiney Chicago a lot, but we also talked a lot.
Or, at least, he talked a lot. And I thought a lot about how I’d respond.
This is a frustrating reflection to write because there isn’t an answer at the end. I just think you should know what the real difficulty is here.
Cody loves “rough draft” talk. “Rough draft” talk is the idea that, without any real aim (or with just a tentative end in mind), the speaker can feel free to just speak. It’s through speaking that she can create, or stumble upon, more ideas than if she had remained silent. I claim to love it, and I encourage my students to do it all the time (“Don’t be afraid! Talk it out! This is how we learn!”), but when it comes to actually practicing it, I freeze like an opossum who never saw the other guy coming.
Example:
Cody and I decided to go out on Friday night (Yay!) to enjoy the spring-weather in mid-February. We were waiting in traffic when a group of teenage girls passed by us and Cody commented, “Jeez. Herd mentality. Our kid will never…”
And that’s all I had to here for every single one of my porcupine needles to spring out of my usually-soft exterior. I’m pretty sure one even flew out of the open window, judging by the echoing shriek from the girls running around outside. I tried to coax them back in, lovingly reminding them that Cody isn’t the enemy and I should just listen and learn from his perspective.
So I asked him what he meant. And I didn’t like what he had to say.
Because I was already on the defensive.
I’m not here to air out our dirty laundry. I’m not even hear to complain that we had a spat – that’s normal stuff. I’m here to describe what happens when I close up, or “needle-out.”
When I feel offended, I stop talking. It’s a hearkening back to “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” There is no rough-draft talk. This makes Cody feel like (hold on, let me ask him).. “I generally assume that I have done something wrong and I can’t fix it because I don’t know what it is. Or, I feel like you’re holding back thoughts that could help us improve our relationship because you’re afraid of causing issues today. I, however, would rather work through any issues today so we can have a happier, more successful tomorrow.” Yes, he really said that. What an English teacher’s dream, amiright?
So I clamp up. In my mind, yes, I am holding something back because I feel like I’m not thinking the way I should be thinking. I look up to Cody so much that sometimes I feel like I’d rather just go along with his way of thinking because he’s older than I am, which means he has spent more time reading than I have and has, at the end of the day, lived more life than I have. I have spent most of my life looking up to my three older brothers, so I have tons of practice putting my thoughts aside to just listen to someone else’s opinions.
But Cody’s not interested in that submission crap. And that means I have to “rough draft” talk when I least want to. I want to speak eloquently always, making perfect sense in every sentence. I don’t want him to snap onto a few words that I may not have even meant, which could cause an even greater misunderstanding. It’s not that I don’t want to work on our relationship, it’s just that uncomfortable conversations really suck, especially when your significant other really wants to know what you think.
So I guess this is just a reflection showing what I know I still have to work on. Cody and I can flirt, joke around, and have surface conversations with the best of them. But what makes our marriage truly ours is how much hard labor we’re willing to pour into the foundation.
And if you want a sturdy foundation, you have to be willing to get dirt under your fingernails, some porcupine needles in your butt, and a lot of rough draft talk to get a perfect blueprint.
