It was Easter Sunday. I feel any good couple throwdown has to pick a holiday as a backdrop, it’s the prime breeding ground for contention. The tension is built in with high expectations, as we try desperately to make this ‘day’ lift off the timeline of the year. We must find a way to make the holiday memorable, engaging, and fun. No one thinks back saying, “Man, this Christmas was a bore and I’m okay with it” but rather, “What a wonderful Christmas we all had.” With the added pressure, our bodies are primed for confrontation.
A week prior to this inciting incident, my wife and I had a conversation on the balancing of our children’s diet. Specifically the quantity of each food group to prevent our toddler from zeroing in on one food group. Balance wasn’t the issue as I looked down at my daughter’s Easter Sunday breakfast plate of eggs, toast, fresh fruit and a half an egg sandwich but rather the quantity of each category. With such an ample amount of carbs I knew the tendency for my daughter would be to carb load as if getting ready for the NYC marathon and then neglect the protein on her plate. My thoughts start flying. “After the conversation we just had why would we lead the day with a full piece of toast, paired with more toast as a sandwich to balance out our lonely egg.”
But it was too late. The dish had been presented and gladly accepted by the carb loving foodie. My daughter’s eyes scanned the plate, assessing her first target. Toast. As expected. She followed that up with the sandwich, but in between bites couldn’t help but pick away at the annoying yellow gooey substance that was placed in the middle of the two elegant pieces of toasted bread by the head chef.
“The eggs are so good today,” I offered, trying to indirectly retarget her attention. The plan had worked, and she turned her attention to the eggs. But after two bites, “I’m full,” resonated in the dining room. The moment had passed, breakfast was consumed, we loaded children in the car and we headed out to Church. On the ride I brought up my concerns with my wife as the kids were talking in the back in our parent coded speech. “This morning is what I’m talking about,” I go on to explain.
But my wife didn’t understand it. It was all healthy food. A balanced meal, as we had discussed. Why the issue? I felt my shoulders raise to my ears with tension. The slow rumble in my gut. My voice narrowed with precision in a hushed intensity like a heat seeking missile as I further leaned into my explanation, once again, sharing my perspective on the quantity of food, not just the balance. As I revisited the court case I thought had already had its disposition, it dawned on me exactly why I was frustrated. It was not this morning. It was not me taking time to reiterate my point. Rather it was a series of moments leading up this conversation that had made me feel not seen, not heard, not acknowledged. It was the feeling, whether accurate or not, that my opinions, thoughts, cares and desires were of no importance to my life partner. This argument was not the product of anger over any one moment, but rather the product of a husband who felt neglected.
And let me clarify, this is not a ‘woe is me’ story but rather one of enlightenment as I flashed back to college and the 6-month stint of my roommate and I communicating only through posted notes in a grudge for the record books. At the core, my roommate feeling ‘neglected’ by our lack of time together since moving in that I failed to acknowledge. Post college, a blow up with my best friend as I felt he didn’t ‘acknowledge’ my viewpoint on how to steer the business we were building, trusting others not involved over someone he had built the business with.
Just a few months prior, when my mother and I had a spat over gifts for my daughter, as my mother insisted on presenting them while I insisted we wait for my brother. At the core, my mother’s impression is that I didn’t ‘acknowledge’ her desire to do the gift exchange the previous week, while I felt my mother didn’t ‘hear’ my desire to wait. At the core of all these conflicts was a sense of neglect and abandonment, not rage or hatred. Anger may flare loudly in conflict but it’s rarely the first emotion to the crime scene. It is neglect, abandonment and invalidation that first set the stage and then open the curtain for anger to arrive and take center stage.
It’s not the eggs, the business dealing, or the Christmas gifts. It’s the slow erosion of the relationship that pushes us to stand up and say “attention must be paid,” before the car veers too far off course. In a way, healthy arguments on the onset do not mark the death of a relationship but rather mark a cry to preserve it. The process can be unpleasant, not different than your dreaded bi-annual dentist exam leaving you praying, “Please no cavities or needed work this time.”
But just as the exam and the dental work needed, so are productive arguments. They can hurt. They can be difficult. And for some, the argument could be worse than the incident that led to it, but ideally, it’s our desire to fix something that is broken or on its way to becoming broken that leads to the confrontation.
Easter came and went, but not without some great memories. My daughter running in a sea of children for Easter eggs reminiscent of the running dinosaurs from Jurassic Park. The most terrifying bunny that gave more Donnie Darko vibes than Peter Rabbit. A wonderful family dinner with laughs, a few too many martinis.
The breakfast incident was behind us, but an important lesson landed as my wife and I summarized the day getting ready for bed. We don’t always have to agree. We just have to make sure the other person knows they were heard. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. It sounds like relationship 101, but after several years of marriage and a couple of kids, it’s amazing how the basics fall away. And how much easier everything gets when you find your way back to them.
The next time conflict rises, I want to remember that not every fight is a sign that love is failing. Sometimes it is a sign that someone is still reaching who hasn’t been seen. And ideally, we recognize our partner before breakfast turns into cross-examination of a slice of sourdough on Easter morning.
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