If you ask me what one problem contributed most to the breakdown of our marriage, I'd say it's his lack of care for me.
Both things are rooted in one real problem, though: communication.
I am a good communicator most of the time. In my life as a professional communicator, I'm very good at what I do. My communication skills have won large contracts, important clients, and big donors. I've impassioned volunteers, encouraged weary workers, directed complex projects, and engaged people who didn't know they wanted to be engaged. In my writing life, my communication skills have prompted strangers from across the globe, young and old, rich and poor, black and white, to tell me that something I've written has touched them in some profound way. In my personal life, my communication skills nurture lifelong relationships, spark new friendships, disarm volatile situations, and ward off misunderstandings. But in my marriage, my communications skills suck.
I don't think they did at first. I think at first, I was able to communicate effectively and honestly. But as events took place and walls began to go up, my Wifely Communication Skill Set (doesn't that sound official?) morphed from one that reflected optimism to one laced with doubt, insecurity and fear. Everything Darren says is filtered through my inability - or refusal - to take his words at face value. He should take blame for some of that, of course. After so many broken promises and flaky attempts at opening up, he effectively shut down my communications center. But it would be a lie and a lousy excuse if I expected him to take ALL the blame.
A month ago, I'd have steadfastly refused to believe that my communications had anything to do with our breakdown. After all, I crave communication with Darren. I always have, and I've always been let down by his lack of need in that area. But not all communication is good communication. Of course, I know this. After all, I am also really, really good at using tone, word choice, innuendo and passive-aggression to get a point across. But those skills are used intentionally. While not pretty, they can't really be blamed for much, because I used them sparingly. Right?
Maybe. Maybe not. That's not the point here. This is: even when I think I'm communicating well, I'm not. This was made painfully evident to me just yesterday. I was having an email exchange with Darren that wasn't going well. I was feeling misunderstood and attacked. I was reeling at his callous, avoid-the-subject responses. I asked for help from my Trusty Advisor, Chris.
He, bless his heart, was brutally honest with me.
"To be honest, right or wrong, I can see why he responded the way he did," he wrote. "It's a matter of his assumptions about your assumptions."
Yeah. You know what they say about assumptions.
Then Chris did a really helpful thing. He rewrote my initial email to Darren, but used TACT where I used EMOTION. He asked me to compare the two and read them as if they were both written to me. The difference was astounding. I had actually believed that my email was GOOD. Direct, but honest. Honest, but thoughtful.
My version:
Please give me your word that when you talk with Steve, you'll be transparent and honest about yourself. If you can't be, then don't go. The letter you wrote the board was ambiguous and vague, and left people wondering. Steve won't ask me, so don't leave him wondering or thinking that I want this or contributed to it. You owe me the respect to be honest with him, especially if he's going to be my minister. But more importantly, you owe it to yourself.
Chris's version:
I am praying for your meeting with Steve. I know for it to be effective you'll have some hard things to talk about. I know you know how important it is to be honest and open with him as he can't give good counsel with incomplete information. My prayer is that you'll have the courage and strength to be as open as possible.
I'm putting this before God because I feel your letter to the board was too vague and has given some the wrong impression (backed up by questions that have been asked of me about your note). I understand that a public letter and a private discussion are different, but forgive me my fear that your discussion with Steve might take the same route with similar misunderstandings. As I won't have the opportunity for feedback with Steve, I can only trust in your integrity and your faith in God.
Chris went on to say this: "The difference in your note and mine is the transmitted expectations. Your note transmits an expectation that Darren won't live up to his ideals, an expectation he can't help but resent. The note above tries to transmit an expectation that Darren will do his best, but also a fear that he might stumble and asks him to guard against such a stumble, and then indicates that you think he may have stumbled with the note to the board."
Wow. Wow. Wow.
Such a huge difference.
I fired off another email to Darren:
After some prayer and consideration, I understand why you were offended. I was accusatory in my tone. I was speaking from a place of fear, not truth. This is something I have been working on, and clearly need to continue working on. Please forgive me for not praying before I spoke, and for assuming you wouldn't or couldn't live up to your ideals rather than encouraging you to live up to them.
Not surprisingly, his response was much more in line with what I wanted and need to hear. I don't want to walk on eggshells with him for the rest of my life (I got tired of that a long time ago, frankly), but I also don't want one of us to have to call a cease fire every time we try to talk.
Someone wise (I can't tell you who... I read it on a divorce blog last week and now I can't find it) once said, "There are two types of people who survive divorce. The one who spends the painful process identifying her mistakes and then carries new wisdom and tools into her next relationship, and the one who wallows in self-pity and indignation and blindly makes the same mistakes again and again."
Just remember Darren has filters too. As part of reconciling both of you will have to reduce/eliminate as many bad filters as possible and replace them with good ones, that will ease communication, less tip-toeing around. Darren's e-mail program was designed to try and help do that by changing attitudes, that was his specific goal, to change out filters (assumptions) that kept fouling up communications (and why he didn't want to talk until that had been accomplished). He didn't do so well. For now, know the filters are there and be mindful of them, such care and consideration will go a long way towards changing Darren's filters.
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