- Stay Away From Crazy
Yes, yes. I understand we all have a little bit of crazy lurking about inside of us. Things set us off and make us behave irrationally. I'm not talking about that. I'm also not talking about any sort of legitimate mental illness. I'm talking about people who either refuse or don't know how to behave correctly. I'm talking about people who lie compulsively, who are manipulative, who aren't willing to take responsibility for their actions, who make more excuses and explanations than sincere apologies. I'm talking about people, who when you interact with them, routinely make you feel angry or hurt or frustrated.
Why should you stay away from crazy? Because crazy people are takers and not givers. They are usually too self absorbed to actually contribute anything meaningful to our lives and people like this drain us of resource that we could be giving to other people who feed us and help us to grow and live a life full of love. For more on that, see the Glowworm lecture. - Never Ask a Question You Don't Want Answered Honestly
It amazes me the number of times I've seen people shocked when someone gives them an unpleasant truth in response to a question. Just a few examples: "Have I gained weight?" "Am I a diva?" "Do you think I make bad life choices?" "Do you fantasize about other women?" "Did you cheat on me?"
If you're going to ask a question like that, you had better assume that there is a possibility that you aren't going to get a nice, tidy, socially appropriate, self-esteem-affirming response. If you are being a diva and if you ask me if you're being a diva, I can assure you that 100% of the time I will tell you that you're being a diva. You may be asking, why wouldn't I just tell a nice little lie that will make you feel good about yourself? Because you asked. And because you asked, you've given me permission to tell you the truth.
- Seize Joy
I don't just mean stop and smell the roses. I mean go out of your way and find some roses and smell the heck out of them until you suck the scent right off of them and love every minute of it. You have one short, little, precious life on the planet. Go out and seek and grab and pull to you those things, experiences, and people who fill your heart with boundless delight. Be responsible (no, "seize joy" isn't equivalent to the idiotic mantra of millenials, "YOLO"), but know that joy isn't going to happen to knock on your apartment door while you're bingeing on whatever you binge on when you're home alone at night. Rather, ya gotta go out and get it. And when you do, hold the hell on to it. - Act Right
Usually, when I tell people this in conversation, the whole rule is, "Act right; it ain't that hard". Perhaps my greatest pet peeve is when people choose to do what they shouldn't or fail to do what they should. In my experience, there are few situations that legitimately impede a person from behaving in whatever way is called for by the situation or relationship in which they are behaving. Rather, we fail to adhere to our responsibilities because we don't want to, and then we make excuses for it. What really drives me bananas is when a person, in the course of making excuses for a failure to act right, bemoans the negative consequences that accompanied whatever ill-conceived choice they made instead of acting right.
I don't care why you didn't do what you should have, or why you did what you shouldn't have. I don't care what unfortunate thing happened to you as a result. Your job, my job, the job of the collective humanity is to behave in responsible ways that minimize to the best of our ability, the chance that our actions in any given moment are going cause someone hurt. Put that way, why wouldn't you act right. It really is too easy.
About Me
- Doc CarrieO
- My name is Carrie Oliveira and I teach people how to improve their relationships by promoting an understanding of the link between communication and relationship quality. I know what I'm talking about because I got a spectacular education provided by brilliant people. I completed my Master of Arts in Communicology (formerly Speech) at the University of Hawaii at Manoa and my Ph.D. in Communication at Michigan State University. I love people and messages and understanding how the messages we create influence our relationships. I hope to share some of what I know with you. If you want, feel free to email me questions at ask.dr.carrie@gmail.com. Welcome to class.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Something Personal: The Rules
Over the course of teaching interpersonal communication and doing my own life, I've come up with a set of rules that I try hard to live by, and recommend that other people do as well. As they are excellent guidelines for human functioning, here they are:
Forgiveness
I've been talking with a couple of friends recently about infidelity. Across my conversations with both of them, the thing that echoed in the back of my mind was the matter of forgiveness. More specifically, I have been thinking about the fact that forgiveness central to the restoration of trust which is the foundation on which the relationship going forward will be built.
The question, then, is: how do we come to forgiveness?
In the course of writing my dissertation, I came across a chapter written by Tedeschi and Nesler (1993) that talked about how people work through being on the wrong end of someone else's bad behavior. Their model had a couple of additions, but the essence of what they argued was this:
What I love about this model is that it expects that the person who committed the wrong-doing to take responsibility for him/herself and try to fix it. Now, seeing as we can't get into a DeLorean and go back in time to the moment just before we made a wrong choice, what can we do (or avoid) to take responsibility for a major betrayal we have committed against someone we love?
I've got some thoughts on that:
1. Apologize. For heaven's sake, apologize. And not one of these perfunctory, I'm-apologizing-because-it's-the-socially-appropriate-thing-to-do-but-I'm-not-really-sorry-and-I'll-likely-do-it-again apologies. No. Like a legit statement of recognition of wrong doing and a sincere display of remorse for what you've done and the hurt the other person is feeling because of it.
2. Don't confess unless you expect the relationship to end. Okay, so now we get into some ethical gray area about whether a betrayal that your partner wouldn't know about unless you confessed it should be confessed at all. I am not prepared to get that dirty right now. What I am prepared to say, though, is that if you know you violated a major relational rule, you should should expect there to be negative consequences. One of these consequences may very well be a loss of the relationship. If your partner doesn't want to be with you as a result of your betrayal, you have to deal with that as a foreseeable outcome of your actions. What you don't get to do is accuse your partner of being crazy, irrational, unreasonable, unfair, blah blah blah if that's what s/he decides is necessary and/or appropriate.
3. Don't give more information than you're asked for. One of my rules for existing as a human being is to never ask a question that you don't want to know the honest answer to. I would amend that rule to say that if a person tells you that they don't want to know, then don't tell them. You have to understand that you just confessed to a major betrayal. That is a lot to deal with unto itself without a barrage of information coming at your partner that they aren't even sure they want to know. What's more, is that chances are that you're being ultra-disclosive for one of two reasons: either you are trying to unburden your conscience or you're trying to get your partner to break up with you. Neither helping you feel less guilty nor giving you a way out of initiating a break up conversation is your partner's responsibility in this situation.
4. Don't berate, belittle, or insult yourself. Yes, you probably feel like a big pile of poo if you genuinely feel remorse for your betrayal and if you really do want to mend your relationship. And you might really, truly honestly feel like you have nothing to say except to call yourself names. I'm telling you, though, find something else to say. If you insult yourself you're trying to beat your partner to the punch - if you call yourself a(n) [insert your favorite ugly insult here], your partner has no reason to also call you a(n) [see previous insult]. This may seem like a harmless self-protective thing to do, but it's a problem because your partner, if s/he loves you, will feel the need to reassure you that you aren't whatever insult you've called yourself. Let me put that differently: you (the betrayer) are asking your partner (whom you have just confessed to betraying) to console and comfort you in response to your well-deserved guilt. That's an awfully manipulative thing for you to be doing if you've just confessed to a major relational violation.
5. Don't ask your partner how they want your betrayal made up to him/her. Like alleviating your guilt, or ending the relationship you didn't want, this puts work and responsibility on your partner for repairing something s/he didn't break. You should be thinking to yourself "how can I prove I love him/her?" and then go do it. I'd like to point out that buying flowers or candy or funding shopping sprees or bringing home puppies are not expressions of love. On a good day, they are gestures of affection. If they come following a betrayal, they are small and trite and comically insignificant as compared to a major betrayal. You may have to prove your love by being willing to give something up in order to invest more in your relationship.
As is always the case, this list isn't by any means exhaustive. It is, however, a compilation of some of the major missteps I've witnessed people making in the course of confessing betrayals to their loved ones.
In the end, you can avoid all of this by really truly trying, every day of your life, not to suck.
The question, then, is: how do we come to forgiveness?
In the course of writing my dissertation, I came across a chapter written by Tedeschi and Nesler (1993) that talked about how people work through being on the wrong end of someone else's bad behavior. Their model had a couple of additions, but the essence of what they argued was this:
- First, a betrayal is committed (after all, without a betrayal, there is no need for forgiveness)
- Second, a responsible party is identified as having committed the betrayal
- Third, the responsible party accepts ownership for commission of the betrayal
- Fourth, the responsible party makes some reparation for the betrayal
- Finally, the person who was betrayed moves toward forgiveness
What I love about this model is that it expects that the person who committed the wrong-doing to take responsibility for him/herself and try to fix it. Now, seeing as we can't get into a DeLorean and go back in time to the moment just before we made a wrong choice, what can we do (or avoid) to take responsibility for a major betrayal we have committed against someone we love?
I've got some thoughts on that:
1. Apologize. For heaven's sake, apologize. And not one of these perfunctory, I'm-apologizing-because-it's-the-socially-appropriate-thing-to-do-but-I'm-not-really-sorry-and-I'll-likely-do-it-again apologies. No. Like a legit statement of recognition of wrong doing and a sincere display of remorse for what you've done and the hurt the other person is feeling because of it.
2. Don't confess unless you expect the relationship to end. Okay, so now we get into some ethical gray area about whether a betrayal that your partner wouldn't know about unless you confessed it should be confessed at all. I am not prepared to get that dirty right now. What I am prepared to say, though, is that if you know you violated a major relational rule, you should should expect there to be negative consequences. One of these consequences may very well be a loss of the relationship. If your partner doesn't want to be with you as a result of your betrayal, you have to deal with that as a foreseeable outcome of your actions. What you don't get to do is accuse your partner of being crazy, irrational, unreasonable, unfair, blah blah blah if that's what s/he decides is necessary and/or appropriate.
3. Don't give more information than you're asked for. One of my rules for existing as a human being is to never ask a question that you don't want to know the honest answer to. I would amend that rule to say that if a person tells you that they don't want to know, then don't tell them. You have to understand that you just confessed to a major betrayal. That is a lot to deal with unto itself without a barrage of information coming at your partner that they aren't even sure they want to know. What's more, is that chances are that you're being ultra-disclosive for one of two reasons: either you are trying to unburden your conscience or you're trying to get your partner to break up with you. Neither helping you feel less guilty nor giving you a way out of initiating a break up conversation is your partner's responsibility in this situation.
4. Don't berate, belittle, or insult yourself. Yes, you probably feel like a big pile of poo if you genuinely feel remorse for your betrayal and if you really do want to mend your relationship. And you might really, truly honestly feel like you have nothing to say except to call yourself names. I'm telling you, though, find something else to say. If you insult yourself you're trying to beat your partner to the punch - if you call yourself a(n) [insert your favorite ugly insult here], your partner has no reason to also call you a(n) [see previous insult]. This may seem like a harmless self-protective thing to do, but it's a problem because your partner, if s/he loves you, will feel the need to reassure you that you aren't whatever insult you've called yourself. Let me put that differently: you (the betrayer) are asking your partner (whom you have just confessed to betraying) to console and comfort you in response to your well-deserved guilt. That's an awfully manipulative thing for you to be doing if you've just confessed to a major relational violation.
5. Don't ask your partner how they want your betrayal made up to him/her. Like alleviating your guilt, or ending the relationship you didn't want, this puts work and responsibility on your partner for repairing something s/he didn't break. You should be thinking to yourself "how can I prove I love him/her?" and then go do it. I'd like to point out that buying flowers or candy or funding shopping sprees or bringing home puppies are not expressions of love. On a good day, they are gestures of affection. If they come following a betrayal, they are small and trite and comically insignificant as compared to a major betrayal. You may have to prove your love by being willing to give something up in order to invest more in your relationship.
As is always the case, this list isn't by any means exhaustive. It is, however, a compilation of some of the major missteps I've witnessed people making in the course of confessing betrayals to their loved ones.
In the end, you can avoid all of this by really truly trying, every day of your life, not to suck.
References
Tedeschi, J. T., & Nesler, M. S. (1993). Grievances: Development and reactions. Aggression and Violence: Social Interactionist Perspectives. Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Something Personal: Why I'm Single
My last post was titled "In Defense of a Single Woman Giving Relationship Advice". The point of that post was to reinforce the point that despite my being without a romantic partner, the delightful relationships I have with friends and family are evidence that my advice is sound and useful and that I have the experienced-based credibility to give it.
In the course of that post, I called attention to the fact that I am single. I didn't get into the reasons I am single (they would have been off-topic and made for an unnecessarily lengthy post). I ventured to guess, though, that people might be curious about why a person who makes a habit of giving relationship advice doesn't have a romantic partner. So, here's the list:
1. My parents have set a crazy high bar for what relationships ought to look like.
This coming August, my folks will have been married to each other for 38 years. Having been born one month before their first wedding anniversary, I can truthfully say that I can't speak to the quality of their relationship as I was growing up. As an adult, though, I look at my parents' relationship with one another as an ideal form of love. They honor and respect each other. They collaborate on every decision they make. They are similar enough to have a strong foundation on which to build love and closeness while also being different enough to off-set one another's imperfections. They laugh together, they play together, they seek out one another's company. They are as comfortable sitting silently in one another's presence as they are talking about things ranging from the mundane to the critical. They are the definition of love. The reason they are so important in my singlehood is that I refuse - and I do mean patently and unequivocally refuse - to settle for anything less than what they have. This necessitates my being patient enough to indulge my spectacular selectivity.
2. I'm not what most people would consider conventionally attractive.
Not that I've ever taken a survey, but I'd venture to guess that if 100 people were randomly asked to rate my attractiveness on a 1-10 scale, I'd end up being a solid 4.5. I'm short, overweight, my hair is coarse and wild (thanks in no small part to my grandmother's Puerto Rican roots), and my nose is too big for my face while my eyes are too small. No, I'm not nitpicking my imperfections. I'm simply making a candid statement about those features that consistently work to undermine people finding me aesthetically pleasing.
The reason my looks matter are that a) physical attraction is an almost inevitably necessary component of romantic interest, and b) because I don't meet most men's standard of attractiveness, it shrinks the pool of available partners. In my experience, men who are attracted to me are approximately as (un)attractive as I am. As it happens, being not-particularly-attractive doesn't exempt a person from wanting to be with a person whom we find attractive. So, speaking purely statistically, if we take into consideration the available, heterosexual men in an appropriate age range in the geographic area in which I live, the number of men who find me attractive whom I also find attractive is extremely small. Trying to catch that fish in the great big sea poses a logistical challenge I'm not too terribly interested in expending a lot of time and energy on. I would rather spend time doing things I already do that make my life awesome.
3. My life is stupidly awesome.
I have a job I love. I write this blog. I casually give people advice about how to navigate a hitch or a problem in their close relationships. In about four weeks I'm going to be legally certified to do family mediation. I have friends and family whom I love and who love me back. I live in the beautiful Appalachian hills. I have enough money to pay my bills, buy a few small indulgences, and have drinks with friends. My life is awesome.
The reasons the awesomeness of my life contributes to my singlehood are two. First, I don't want to divert energy away from the things that already make my life great to go on an effortful fishing expedition to find my future husband. Second, I'm looking for someone who can make what is already awesome even more awesome. I don't need a partner to make my life great or whole or complete. If I felt like my life had a hole in it that only a romantic partner could fill, I would be a bit less selective in my screening process and likely be able to find someone who could give me a sense of wholeness that I was missing. Instead, a fella has to be positively amazing in order to make my already fabulous existence better (heck, I don't even know what is more fabulous than fabulous). In my experience, dating to screen for people who have that potential has been more frustrating and anxiety-producing than fruitful.
4. I hate dating.
My relationship history is full of men who absolutely fell short of making my awesome life better. More than that, though, the men in my history have all (with the single exception of my last serious relationship) been . . . how do I say this without cussing . . . you know what, never mind - shitbags. They've all been absolute shitbags. They were really, honestly dreadful people. Liars, cheaters, emotionally abusive, unable to disclose their feelings, unable to decide where I fit into their lives, blah blah blah.
My point is not to bash my exes (after all, I did pick them, at least for a short time). My point is that dating for me has been painful. I made the decision shortly after I broke up with my last serious partner that I didn't want to date anymore. It occurred to me that I was unhappy while I was dating. I was always anxious and stressed out. Dating isn't something that I enjoy. Now, there are things we must do that we do not enjoy - like eating veggies, going out into the snow to go grocery shopping, or flossing - dating is not something that I must do. It's totally optional. Which means I could opt out. So I have.
Let me be clear: this post isn't designed to advocate for being single. Singlehood isn't for everybody. Lots of people are much happier in a relationship than they are alone. As it happens, I'm not one of them - at least not right now. I haven't totally ruled out the possibility of being willing to reenter the dating pool at some point. I also haven't ruled out the off chance that some serendipitous meeting with a stranger may turn into a lifetime of pair-bonded happiness. I've just decided that, for right now, at this stage in my life, given the people in my dating pool and given the high expectations I have for a partner and a relationship, I'm happily and voluntarily single.
In the meantime, my life is full of love and joy and I'm content to let that sustain me.
In the course of that post, I called attention to the fact that I am single. I didn't get into the reasons I am single (they would have been off-topic and made for an unnecessarily lengthy post). I ventured to guess, though, that people might be curious about why a person who makes a habit of giving relationship advice doesn't have a romantic partner. So, here's the list:
1. My parents have set a crazy high bar for what relationships ought to look like.
This coming August, my folks will have been married to each other for 38 years. Having been born one month before their first wedding anniversary, I can truthfully say that I can't speak to the quality of their relationship as I was growing up. As an adult, though, I look at my parents' relationship with one another as an ideal form of love. They honor and respect each other. They collaborate on every decision they make. They are similar enough to have a strong foundation on which to build love and closeness while also being different enough to off-set one another's imperfections. They laugh together, they play together, they seek out one another's company. They are as comfortable sitting silently in one another's presence as they are talking about things ranging from the mundane to the critical. They are the definition of love. The reason they are so important in my singlehood is that I refuse - and I do mean patently and unequivocally refuse - to settle for anything less than what they have. This necessitates my being patient enough to indulge my spectacular selectivity.
2. I'm not what most people would consider conventionally attractive.
Not that I've ever taken a survey, but I'd venture to guess that if 100 people were randomly asked to rate my attractiveness on a 1-10 scale, I'd end up being a solid 4.5. I'm short, overweight, my hair is coarse and wild (thanks in no small part to my grandmother's Puerto Rican roots), and my nose is too big for my face while my eyes are too small. No, I'm not nitpicking my imperfections. I'm simply making a candid statement about those features that consistently work to undermine people finding me aesthetically pleasing.
The reason my looks matter are that a) physical attraction is an almost inevitably necessary component of romantic interest, and b) because I don't meet most men's standard of attractiveness, it shrinks the pool of available partners. In my experience, men who are attracted to me are approximately as (un)attractive as I am. As it happens, being not-particularly-attractive doesn't exempt a person from wanting to be with a person whom we find attractive. So, speaking purely statistically, if we take into consideration the available, heterosexual men in an appropriate age range in the geographic area in which I live, the number of men who find me attractive whom I also find attractive is extremely small. Trying to catch that fish in the great big sea poses a logistical challenge I'm not too terribly interested in expending a lot of time and energy on. I would rather spend time doing things I already do that make my life awesome.
3. My life is stupidly awesome.
I have a job I love. I write this blog. I casually give people advice about how to navigate a hitch or a problem in their close relationships. In about four weeks I'm going to be legally certified to do family mediation. I have friends and family whom I love and who love me back. I live in the beautiful Appalachian hills. I have enough money to pay my bills, buy a few small indulgences, and have drinks with friends. My life is awesome.
The reasons the awesomeness of my life contributes to my singlehood are two. First, I don't want to divert energy away from the things that already make my life great to go on an effortful fishing expedition to find my future husband. Second, I'm looking for someone who can make what is already awesome even more awesome. I don't need a partner to make my life great or whole or complete. If I felt like my life had a hole in it that only a romantic partner could fill, I would be a bit less selective in my screening process and likely be able to find someone who could give me a sense of wholeness that I was missing. Instead, a fella has to be positively amazing in order to make my already fabulous existence better (heck, I don't even know what is more fabulous than fabulous). In my experience, dating to screen for people who have that potential has been more frustrating and anxiety-producing than fruitful.
4. I hate dating.
My relationship history is full of men who absolutely fell short of making my awesome life better. More than that, though, the men in my history have all (with the single exception of my last serious relationship) been . . . how do I say this without cussing . . . you know what, never mind - shitbags. They've all been absolute shitbags. They were really, honestly dreadful people. Liars, cheaters, emotionally abusive, unable to disclose their feelings, unable to decide where I fit into their lives, blah blah blah.
My point is not to bash my exes (after all, I did pick them, at least for a short time). My point is that dating for me has been painful. I made the decision shortly after I broke up with my last serious partner that I didn't want to date anymore. It occurred to me that I was unhappy while I was dating. I was always anxious and stressed out. Dating isn't something that I enjoy. Now, there are things we must do that we do not enjoy - like eating veggies, going out into the snow to go grocery shopping, or flossing - dating is not something that I must do. It's totally optional. Which means I could opt out. So I have.
Let me be clear: this post isn't designed to advocate for being single. Singlehood isn't for everybody. Lots of people are much happier in a relationship than they are alone. As it happens, I'm not one of them - at least not right now. I haven't totally ruled out the possibility of being willing to reenter the dating pool at some point. I also haven't ruled out the off chance that some serendipitous meeting with a stranger may turn into a lifetime of pair-bonded happiness. I've just decided that, for right now, at this stage in my life, given the people in my dating pool and given the high expectations I have for a partner and a relationship, I'm happily and voluntarily single.
In the meantime, my life is full of love and joy and I'm content to let that sustain me.
Something Personal: In Defenese of a Single Woman Giving Relationship Advice
As I start this post, there are about 55 minutes remaining in Valentine's Day 2014. Being single, and being friends with mostly pair-bonded folks, I spent the majority of my day alone - delightfully so. I listened to the sound of the week's snow melting on an unusually warm day, ate left over pizza, and trolled about on social media. In checking both my Facebook and Twitter feeds, I noticed an abundance of the inevitable Valentine's Day-hating posts. As a person who believes in love, I find these types of posts irritating. Valentine's Day is about celebrating love, no matter who that love is with. As I often do when something annoys me, I went on a short little Facebook rant asking the offenders to quit posting such cynical junk (If you care to read it - it's all of 125 words - you can find it here).
In the course of writing that post, I found myself arguing something that I have argued countless times before in my own defense as a single woman who gives relationship advice. So, in the spirit of openness, honesty, candor, and love, I'd like to call attention to my own singlehood, and in the course of doing so defend my credibility as a giver of relationship advice.
So, I am single. Not just unmarried, but entirely single. My last serious relationship ended about 2 years ago (at least I think it was about 2 years ago; I'm terrible with dates). Since then, I have had one date with one guy, after which I enthusiastically decided to take an indefinite hiatus from dating. (If you're nosy about why I'm single, I wrote a separate post to address that point which you can read here.)
The reason I thought it was important to mention my singlehood, finally, was because I get asked a lot (mostly by men) what business I have giving relationship advice if I'm not in a relationship. Like the begrudgingly-single Facebook posters I mentioned above, I find people who ask me that question to be short-sighted and narrow-minded.
The fact is that on every single day of my life I actively and mindfully live every piece of advice I have ever given in this blog in all of my non-romantic relationships. I have had the same best friend since I was 14 years old (that comes out to about 61% of the total time I've spent on this planet), I have close relationships with my parents and my sister (who is a very, very different kind of human being than am I), my cousins who live about five hours away in North Carolina, and the handful of close friends I've made over the last six and a half years living and working in Johnson City, Tennessee. I have been able to form, grow, and maintain these relationships because I know what I'm doing - not just in a theoretical way, but in an actual, practical way. The old adage about those who can't do teach does not apply to me.
So you see, dear readers, love and intimacy aren't just the stuff of romantic bonds. They are the force that brings life to any close relationship. The advice I give here shouldn't be applied just to your romantic relationships. Rather, you should use it in every relationship you ever have. Do that, and I can about assure you that your life, like mine, will be characterized by an overflowing abundance of love, warmth, and affection. To that I say, more of that.
Happy Valentine's Day.
In the course of writing that post, I found myself arguing something that I have argued countless times before in my own defense as a single woman who gives relationship advice. So, in the spirit of openness, honesty, candor, and love, I'd like to call attention to my own singlehood, and in the course of doing so defend my credibility as a giver of relationship advice.
So, I am single. Not just unmarried, but entirely single. My last serious relationship ended about 2 years ago (at least I think it was about 2 years ago; I'm terrible with dates). Since then, I have had one date with one guy, after which I enthusiastically decided to take an indefinite hiatus from dating. (If you're nosy about why I'm single, I wrote a separate post to address that point which you can read here.)
The reason I thought it was important to mention my singlehood, finally, was because I get asked a lot (mostly by men) what business I have giving relationship advice if I'm not in a relationship. Like the begrudgingly-single Facebook posters I mentioned above, I find people who ask me that question to be short-sighted and narrow-minded.
The fact is that on every single day of my life I actively and mindfully live every piece of advice I have ever given in this blog in all of my non-romantic relationships. I have had the same best friend since I was 14 years old (that comes out to about 61% of the total time I've spent on this planet), I have close relationships with my parents and my sister (who is a very, very different kind of human being than am I), my cousins who live about five hours away in North Carolina, and the handful of close friends I've made over the last six and a half years living and working in Johnson City, Tennessee. I have been able to form, grow, and maintain these relationships because I know what I'm doing - not just in a theoretical way, but in an actual, practical way. The old adage about those who can't do teach does not apply to me.
So you see, dear readers, love and intimacy aren't just the stuff of romantic bonds. They are the force that brings life to any close relationship. The advice I give here shouldn't be applied just to your romantic relationships. Rather, you should use it in every relationship you ever have. Do that, and I can about assure you that your life, like mine, will be characterized by an overflowing abundance of love, warmth, and affection. To that I say, more of that.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Relationships are Like Gardens Part III: Even Good Ones Have Pests
A few months ago, I was in attendance at the wedding of a dear friend in the delightful city of Chattanooga, Tennessee. On the morning of the wedding, with a few hours to spend alone in the city, I made my way out to find a wedding gift. I will note here that gift-giving isn't my strong suit (I'm great with doing favors, but less brilliant at giving gifts), so I had been thinking for days about what to get the happy couple. Finally, as I was waiting in line that morning to buy my faithful companion, giant iced coffee, I made up my mind.
I left the coffee shop and headed to a bookstore where I picked up for them a copy of John Gottman's Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work. I know, it could be construed as cynical to give a book on marital management as a wedding gift, even for people who know me well (and know how much I value knowledge and education as the foundation of happy relationships). Truly, I mean nothing negative in this gift. Elizabeth and David are a wonderful match for one another, they clearly love each other dearly, and they are both committed to making a lifetime of happiness together.
Naturally, then, you should be asking, "CarrieO, if they understand how to do a relationship well, what do Elizabeth and David need with a book on marital functioning". Good question. To answer it, I present to you Part III of Why Relationships are Like Gardens: Even Good Ones Have Pests.
Our relationships are not unlike this. Being well-matched to our partners in terms of our values, skills, and dedication to our relationship can stave off a lot of challenges that crop up (no pun intended) in our relationships. In spite of all of that, though, it is inevitable that in a lifetime together, we will occasionally encounter situations that create relational strain.
Realizing that we can't predict or control every source of relational strain, part of our becoming knowledgeable and skilled is being able to anticipate, recognize, and effectively manage unavoidable relational stressors. The upshot of this is that stress unto itself doesn't necessarily adversely impact relational quality. Rather, how we manage that strain does.
You may be thinking that talking about setting a garden on fire to get rid of slugs seems like an insane and irrational example that doesn't really extend into relationship management. I would beg to differ. The reason setting fire to a garden seems insane is because it is an obvious overreaction to a problem in the garden. Interestingly, human beings aren't always quite so adept at recognizing the irrational overreaction that some of our reactions to relational strain may be.
The challenge in gaining perspective is in controlling emotions - hurt, anger, frustration, annoyance - that interfere with both our willingness and ability to simply speak our needs to our partners. If we allow our strong emotions to dictate our behavior in a moment then we may, in fact, do more damage to our relationships than we mean to. Much like a fire in a garden, if we act rashly out of emotion and without forethought, the damage we do to our relationships out of unhappy emotion can lead to consequences that are vastly more difficult to remedy than we intended.
So, the sum total of all of this is that when we bind ourselves in loving bonds to other human beings, we have no choice but to contend with the quirks our loved ones possess. If we want love and closeness to grow like a garden, then we have to learn to patiently cultivate the parts of the garden that nourish us without destroying the entire thing out of frustration.
Stay tuned for part four.
I left the coffee shop and headed to a bookstore where I picked up for them a copy of John Gottman's Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work. I know, it could be construed as cynical to give a book on marital management as a wedding gift, even for people who know me well (and know how much I value knowledge and education as the foundation of happy relationships). Truly, I mean nothing negative in this gift. Elizabeth and David are a wonderful match for one another, they clearly love each other dearly, and they are both committed to making a lifetime of happiness together.
Naturally, then, you should be asking, "CarrieO, if they understand how to do a relationship well, what do Elizabeth and David need with a book on marital functioning". Good question. To answer it, I present to you Part III of Why Relationships are Like Gardens: Even Good Ones Have Pests.
Sometimes, You End Up With Slugs
Tapping back in to our analogy of a garden, the truth is that no matter how much we've learned about how to grow cilantro or tomatoes, and no matter how much we've planned and executed our planting to maximize our success, we can't prevent every problem. Bugs, slugs, rabbits, birds, and plant diseases are things that our knowledgeable planning can help mitigate, but may not be able to prevent entirely. When the pests start creeping into the garden, we have to manage them well if we expect to be able to harvest.Our relationships are not unlike this. Being well-matched to our partners in terms of our values, skills, and dedication to our relationship can stave off a lot of challenges that crop up (no pun intended) in our relationships. In spite of all of that, though, it is inevitable that in a lifetime together, we will occasionally encounter situations that create relational strain.
Realizing that we can't predict or control every source of relational strain, part of our becoming knowledgeable and skilled is being able to anticipate, recognize, and effectively manage unavoidable relational stressors. The upshot of this is that stress unto itself doesn't necessarily adversely impact relational quality. Rather, how we manage that strain does.
You Would Never Set Your Garden On Fire
Consider it this way: suppose you've chosen to plant tomatoes. Let's also suppose that some time after you plant, you end up with a situation in which your garden is infested by slugs that eat your plants before they bear fruit. We could manage the slugs by way of, say, setting the garden on fire. As much as that may kill the slugs, it would also decimate the garden. In setting your garden aflame, you've accomplished nothing productive. Sure, you've killed the slugs, but you've also prevented your ability to harvest the fruit of your garden. You've shot yourself in the foot because all of that planting and pruning leads to nothing productive.You may be thinking that talking about setting a garden on fire to get rid of slugs seems like an insane and irrational example that doesn't really extend into relationship management. I would beg to differ. The reason setting fire to a garden seems insane is because it is an obvious overreaction to a problem in the garden. Interestingly, human beings aren't always quite so adept at recognizing the irrational overreaction that some of our reactions to relational strain may be.
Set Down the Matches, and Get Some Self-Control
Rather than yelling, pouting, giving your partner the cold shoulder, or retaliating by doing frustrating things in times of relational stress, the best thing we can do is muster some self-control and perspective.The challenge in gaining perspective is in controlling emotions - hurt, anger, frustration, annoyance - that interfere with both our willingness and ability to simply speak our needs to our partners. If we allow our strong emotions to dictate our behavior in a moment then we may, in fact, do more damage to our relationships than we mean to. Much like a fire in a garden, if we act rashly out of emotion and without forethought, the damage we do to our relationships out of unhappy emotion can lead to consequences that are vastly more difficult to remedy than we intended.
So, the sum total of all of this is that when we bind ourselves in loving bonds to other human beings, we have no choice but to contend with the quirks our loved ones possess. If we want love and closeness to grow like a garden, then we have to learn to patiently cultivate the parts of the garden that nourish us without destroying the entire thing out of frustration.
Stay tuned for part four.
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