Dec/080
Iceberg ahead
I just had an argument with my wife. As I write this, I’m in the car traveling down the road for a Christmas celebration with the in-laws. What’s the subject of our argument on this otherwise beautiful December morning you ask? Work. Travel. And the idea of being “normal.” Arguments like this upset me, not because of the subject matter, but because of my behavior when I get upset.
My voice gets louder. Not a full yell, or a shrill shout, but simply louder. I notice, but most of the time I lack the ability to reign it back in to a reasonable volume. When I notice, in my head I tell my self that I should calm down. I know that it’s disrespectful to the person I’m talking to. I know it increases the likelihood that the behavior will continue and most likely escalate (to a full yell). I know that I’m pushing the other person away, violating safety. I know all this, but I’m still helpless to stop. (Most of the time.)
When I think about why, I suspect that it’s for two reasons. First is probably my ego. I think I’m right. So, like any self-absorbed buffoon who thinks they are right, I expect my obvious point to carry itself without further elucidation. After all, why would I need to explain it? It’s so self-evident… in my head. If you would just accept that I’m right, we could be done with this a lot faster. You know that don’t you?
The second reason is because we’ve had the argument before. I suspect it’s like this with most couples; arguments tend to have the same underlying currents running through them. Each in their own way a manifestation of a deeper difference identified between the two people involved. Over time, you begin to recognize which reoccurring issue is resurfacing it’s ugly head.
What would an argument about work related travel have to do with an argument about calling a friend on a Friday to play cards? In our case, both are a fundamental disagreement about the existence of a social standard for behavior in that area. My wife believes in “normal” behavior, and I don’t. So when we fight about something being normal, it’s not the act of “normalcy” we are fighting about, but instead our perceptions about how that should influence our behavior. And what would an argument about buying books have to do with an argument about feeding the dogs? For my wife and I, both of those arguments are about a perception of “fairness” and how that should influence behavior (or not).
If you look at an iceberg from the surface of the water, you may see several small icebergs floating together. But if you look below the surface, you may find that they are all in fact the same iceberg. They just appear different. Each of these superficial arguments are the stuff days, weeks, and months that relationships are made up of. Successful relationships figure out how to recognize those differences and work through them.
Figuring out how to tame my ego has been an endeavor of mine for the last twenty years. I get better each year, but it’s an uphill battle. I’ve found some things help: talking to others about my bad behavior, going to confession, trying to work towards shared purpose, focusing on what I’m not good at in addition to what I am good at, etc… What still frustrates me is that for some behaviors I still can’t regulate real-time.
Figuring out how to deal with the “iceberg” issues with my wife will take patience and prayer. Together we’ll need to work on them. Together we’ll need to figure out how to see past the surface of the water so we can remove the frustrations of the little things. We both understand and respect the differences. We forget, in the heat of the moment, that what we’re seeing is an illusion. We don’t see the whole picture. We don’t see the whole iceberg.
With God’s help, perhaps someday we will. Icebergs, like egos, need to be chipped away at, at little at a time.
