Submission

I came of age in the late 60's...a time of cultural revolution.  Sometimes I like to think of myself as a member of the Woodstock Generation but the truth is that I grew up in a small farming community in Central Kansas...a long way from Woodstock and all that came with it.  Aside from beer, there were no drugs in my high school.  By today's standards, mine was a very sheltered childhood and adolescence.  Traditional family values were taken for granted.  Everyone knew their place and the community did what it needed to do to keep everyone where they "belonged."

Despite the buffer of wheat fields and miles of empty space, the events of the late 60's and early 70's left their mark on my life.  By the time I graduated from high school, it was clear that I didn't fit well in that small town.  Leaving Kansas for three years in France and Algeria,  introduced me to all the "isms" of the time including feminism and socialism.  I wholeheartedly embraced the notions of equality that came with those perspectives.  By the time I entered the American workforce as a college professor in the late 70's I enthusiastically identified myself as a feminist and less obviously as a socialist.  Although I'm still committed to equality and providing a level playing field to one and all, the way I think about all that now is quite different from the way I thought about it then.  Thirty years of teaching and practice have brought an evolving perspective and a new appreciation for some of the things I threw overboard when I left Kansas.

Converts too often become zealots.  My conversion to the equality promised by the "ism's" of the 70's left me a zealot.  One of the first things I threw overboard was the notion of submission.  For me, there was no place in a world of equality for something so unequal as submission.  The word acquired an ugliness that made it difficult to utter without disdain.

Thirty years later, I see the inequality that naturally comes with life--inequality that can't be overcome.  Some things are, by their nature, bigger than we are.  I spend a lot of time with people who feel overwhelmed by the circumstances of their lives.  Their circumstances are bigger than anything they are or could become.  Listening to them tell their stories often reminds me of being in heavy surf.  Resisting a large wave by trying to stand up to it almost inevitably leads to being thrown into the sand, pummeled and spit out on the beach wondering what just happened.  The alternative, submission, means lying down as the wave approaches, letting it wash over and dissipate.

Submitting to one's life circumstance doesn't mean giving up.  It means giving in.  It means recognizing the "biggness" of the circumstance and allowing it to wash over us so that when the wave passes we can get up and prepare for the next wave.  And, there will be another wave.  Without the ability to submit, we are left with the inevitable prospect of being repeatedly thrown into the sand, pummeled and spit out on the beach completely unprepared for the next wave.  And, there will be another wave.

Special or Ordinary

I suppose I shouldn't be but, I'm always a little startled by how intensely people want to feel special.  It makes sense that over a generation of media efforts to boost our children's self-esteem would result in the deeply held belief that we are unique and therefore special.  Indeed, it's good to remember that we are special.  But, it seems equally good to remember that we are pretty completely ordinary.  Ordinary is what connects us to others.  Ordinary is what guarantees similarity of experience.  If each of us were completely unique, we would have little, if any, overlapping experience and therefore little to generate connection.

It's interesting to me that one of the most complimentary things you can say about someone you have believed to be special is,  "He/She was so down-to-earth.."  Although we often long to be special to someone, we also look forward to those times when we notice the "ordinaryness" of those we have made special.

Just as it feels like a gift when someone notices the ways we are special, it can be gift to others when we notice the ways we are completely ordinary.

Coming to Terms

I was recently interviewed by a reporter from my local newspaper.  He was working on an article about what couples need to address before getting married.  Understandably, he wanted short answers to what feel like very complicated questions.  I did my best to avoid offering short answers but doubt the article will reflect that effort. The whole thing reminded me how strongly we want quick and relatively painless routes to our desired goals.

Giving that interview rekindled a line of thought I've struggled with for the past number of months.  That line of thought has to do with my own desire to find a quick and relatively painless route to the goals I've set for myself.  The truth is that in order to successfully embark on the desired path, I first have to come to terms with myself.  Coming to terms with myself demands the ability to thoroughly and compassionately take a "moral inventory" (to borrow a term from 12-step language) of my own life in all its dimensions.  When taking this inventory, I've noticed the temptation to think that it's most important to catalog shortcomings, failures and flaws.  Though noting those is essential, it is likely more important to note the places where I can exercise the courage to change...to live out the good things I want as opposed to bemoaning the flaws that block forward movement.

I suppose there's a fine distinction to be drawn between noting fear and noting occasions where I'm called to exercise courage.  For me, there's an ease that comes with noting fear.  I can rest in the truth and humility that comes with acknowledging fear.  Noting an occasion that calls for courage, on the other hand, demands some sort of action.  It calls for living something out...putting some "skin in the game."  It's no more or less true than noting fear but it does seem more demanding.

So, what I'd say to couples going into a committed relationship and what I find myself saying to myself is, "Pay attention to who you are and do what you need to do to come to terms with that.  It's a prerequisite to a successful relationship journey."

Maintenance

Often, the least glamorous, most accessible experiences are the most important and life altering..  It's easy to be drawn to the exotic when a life change is desired.  Vacations are a good example.  Many of us need to have the experience of something completely different from our day to day lives in order to feel like we've had a genuine vacation.  We are drawn to cruises and far away places.  We want to be transported to a world as different from the one we left as possible.  We want to get away from it all.

On the other hand, we all know that the little things count.  Often they count more than anything else.  Consistently paying attention to how often we touch, how often we express gratitude, how often we say what's really on our mind and how often we acknowledge the importance of those around us can have an amazingly positive effect on how well a relationship goes.  In fact, relationship maintenance probably has more to do with relationship success than does the periodic "special" experience.  Wonderful as those experiences can be, they rarely sustain.

So, the next time you want to improve the quality of your relationship, resist the temptation to do something "special."  Instead, set out on a practice of doing a lot of little things consistently over time.  Maintenance behaviors can slowly and reliably pull even the most difficult times into a better place.

Are We Compatible?

Most of the research on relationship success tells us that compatibility between partners is essential.  Living a long and happy life with a partner usually depends on the similarities partners share.  If two people have the same definition of "clean," the same definition of "on time," and the same definition of "expensive," they are less likely to experience conflict and therefore more likely to live comfortably together.  They will experience compatibility.

But what about "hard wired" differences like those that come with being male or female?  Or, the "hard wired" differences that come with temperament and personality?  What about the apparently natural inclination for opposites to attract?  What about the desire to encounter something new and interesting--something different--that adds life and spark to the inevitable boredom that threatens to overtake long term relationships?  It seems no matter how much we seek compatibility, we will inevitably find pockets of incompatibility as the relationship develops.  Sometimes those pockets of incompatibility generate a gnawing disappointment.  But, they can also create interest and curiosity.  If allowed, points of incompatibility can be the source of substantial personal and relational growth.  It's a cliche, of course, but pain and gain are, indeed, tied to each other.

Because people don't ordinarily see a therapist when they are in the throes of major compatibility, the couples I see come with a pointed and painful experience of incompatibility.  Listening to people describe their discomfort with differences, it quickly becomes obvious that at an earlier point in their relationship the differences were not experienced as painful. Rather, they were often a source of interest and growth. So, what makes a thing that generated interest turn into a thing that only produces annoyance and frustration?

Three things contribute to the movement from interest to annoyance.  First, there is an inevitable loss of imagination and curiosity that comes with a long term relationship.  Second, the diminished space that comes with accumulated responsibilities like children and mortgages leaves less and less room for differences.  And third, there seems to be a natural erosion of respect that accompanies relating over a long period of time.  Disappointments and misunderstandings acquire a weight over time that makes carrying them comfortably very difficult.  It's hard to maintain respect for someone you begin to see as making your life harder than it needs to be.

So, what's the best response to incompatibility?  Assuming the incompatibility doesn't create a dangerous situation, the answer seems fairly straightforward.  Begin by cultivating imagination and curiosity.  Ask yourself, "What makes him do that?" or "How does doing what he does work for him?" or "How does my response to her make her more or less likely to continue doing the thing I find annoying?"  Second, look for ways to create constructive emotional space--create room for differences.  One way this can be done is to remind yourself that he/she is not doing something to you.  For example, my partner's cleaning something after I've already cleaned it is not something she is doing to me.  Rather, it's something she's doing for herself.  Finally, act in ways that deserves respect and notice the ways your partner deserves respect.

Of course, all of this is easier said than done.  Most of us get to a place where all we want is someone more like us than not.  However, remembering that growth only comes with risk and difficulty can shed a kinder light on incompatibility.