How is it that after forty-two years of marriage, my husband and I still fail to communicate clearly? We were standing in the kitchen, facing each other when he said, “This is not my problem; this is our problem.”
I was stunned. He was right, of course, but I hated to admit it. I have assumed for years that I communicate well, and that it’s my husband’s fault that he doesn’t understand what I mean when I say something. In that moment of letting the truth sink in—that I was just as much to blame as he was, I wondered, Is he truly my soul mate?
I thought about that for a couple of days, noticing how I felt around him–hurt and betrayed. He was other. I felt isolated and alone. But I also felt a singular sense of relief and identity. I realized I didn’t need my husband to “get me” in order to feel whole. In other words, I didn’t need his validation or understanding of me to feel good about myself. I am still me. It’s just that now I realize I must communicate clearly who I am to him.
So simple, so easy
Now, this may seem crazy to you, and perhaps it is, but here’s an example of how the dynamics changed between us after he made that shocking, life-changing pronouncement. After watching TV together, he got up to clear his dishes. I had an empty cup and spoon to clear. I started to hem and haw in my mind, not wanting to get up, but thinking I must follow his example and get ready for bed, but maybe he would notice and offer to take my detritus with him to the kitchen. Instead, I raised my cup and spoon. “Could you take these, too, please?”
“Sure.”
So easy, so simple.
I know, I know, that’s weird, but that’s what I have done. For years. I’ve had this lingering bullshit talk in my head—I’m not good enough, or I’m lazy, so I’ve got to do this chore (whatever it is) myself and not ask for even so much as a simple favor. Nothing could be farthest from the truth–me being lazy and all. I just have some bad thought habits. It felt so clean, simply asking, “Can you take these for me?”
I was practicing communicating clearly with my husband. I can no longer assume or expect him to understand me at all times or to anticipate my needs. And if I’ve done this with him, how many other people have I done this with?
Practice communicating clearly
For years, I’ve had this lingering bullshit talk in my head.
Clearly, some people may say no when I ask for a favor. That’s a chance I must take. It doesn’t mean I’m bad or unworthy. Plus, I think people like being asked instead of expected to do you a favor. Especially spouses/partners/friends.
The result of communicating more clearly with my husband has been that I am more considerate of him. Just as I want him to hear me out, I must do the same.
For example, these past few weekends we’ve been rearranging the living room. At first I said that’s looks horrible when he suggested an idea. We hired an interior decorator to help us. Best investment we’ve ever made. He was on the right track with many of his ideas.
Remain openminded, not judgmental
We looked for a new area rug. While selecting one online, he said, “Please tell me what you like without filtering it through what you think I won’t like.” After a frustrating search, we went to Home Depot to see the rugs on display. Instead of putting him down for liking something, which I have often done, if not aloud, then in my head, and I think it always comes out sideways somehow, I remained openminded. Lo and behold, we found a rug we both love. I was shocked. Neither of us was compromised our tastes.
How odd that seeing poor communication as a “we” problem and not a “his” problem has made me less judgmental and more openminded. Communicating clearly will take practice, but at least I’m aware now that it’s never been that he doesn’t get me.
Just because we must work at communicating doesn’t mean we aren’t soulmates. Yes, he is vastly different from me. He’s not my other self. He is his own self, and that is the challenge—communicating with each other so that we understand one another because we are both so different. But understanding through clear communication is possible. And maybe that’s the soulmate part—we care enough to try.
