Communication in relationships often works its way around a series of raising and lowering of shields.
Effective communication can only really happen when a truce is called, and both sides lower their defenses.
Successful communication lives where there is no impending threat of war.
Recently, my husband and I were in an out-of-sync phase. I was “dealing with some stuff in my life,” and then he was “dealing with some stuff” in his. Even though it wasn’t intentional, both of us started to slowly raise our shields. Maybe he started to raise his first, and then I started to raise mine—or maybe it was the other way around. It doesn’t really matter. The result was just the same.
Conversation became stilted, limited to the details necessary to continue on with our busy lives. Shields up, connection down.
I was aware of the disconnect, the divide that was starting to expand between us like a barricade of sand bags set up to hide sight and sound, and to take the direct shots. It had started feeling more comfortable to hide behind the barrier, to retreat to a place of presumed safety.
I think you know what I’m talking about. Many relationships wear this constant state of defense like a crisply starched uniform, from the army boots to the epaulettes.
Fortunately for us, my spouse started reaching out, looking for our common ground. He became more communicative, broadening the conversation. He smiled more. He was trying.
By then, of course, my shields were well established. Despite my awareness of his repair bids, it took some time for me to lay down my sword and stop taking things personally. Thankfully, he waited. He didn’t ‘re-arm’ himself while I was trying to lower my defenses. Finally, shields down, connection up. We could move forward.
In telling this story I become aware of how often we use military references in describing our relationships. I don’t think it sets a great foundation, do you?
Its amazing how often we talk about our connections with people in hawkish terms: pick your battles, lower your shields, call a truce, lose the battle but win the war, take the first shot, send in the reinforcements, stick to your guns, negotiate world peace (if you’ve ever spent time with 2 or more kids, you know about this), détentes. And that doesn’t even begin to address the battle of the sexes.
There is such power in the language we use.
With military analogies, relationships can’t win for losing. Such metaphors create a zero sum gain. Rather than victory, there is a constant battle which lasts the duration of a relationship, or sometimes a lifetime, whichever comes first.
Think about it: how often do you consider a potential conversation or action with the strategic prowess of a General? It happens more often than we realize.
Ask yourself: do you really want to be ‘doing battle’-- with your teenager, or your spouse, or your parent, or your supervisor, or your employee--all the time?
Imagine the impact of shifting our perspective from one that is adversarial, to one that is more collaborative? Remember the Middle East in the 70’s when Carter and al-Sadat shook hands? Talk about a ‘shot’ heard around the world! (See, it’s hard to stop!)
Rather than roadside bombs and sniper attacks, we can shift our thinking to the support of irrigation systems and building new schools. When we start to consider the needs and wishes of the other person, and get out of our own way, it is amazing how relationships can flourish.
Changing how we approach our relationships, from combatants to allies, leads to more positive outcomes.
It’s time to pull our intimate relationships out of the barracks and put them back into the kitchen, or the office, or the classroom where they belong.
So, what if we replace all of those martial metaphors with driving analogies?
Try to imagine each person in your life as another car on the road. Each car has its own lane, its own path to take. We can choose to go in the same direction as each other, or maybe we’ll take different routes to get there. We take our own luggage (sounds better than baggage, doesn’t it?), and we each go our own speed. Yeah, I’m liking this, so far.
When we reach those moments when we are closed off from each other, we can start by lowering the car window at a traffic light to ask for directions. Over time, we can lower all the windows, eventually growing comfortable enough to take the top down on the convertible. Open, trusting communication is exposing ourselves to the sun shining and the wind blowing through our hair—with sun-block, a scarf, whatever is needed to take care of ourselves. All of this is our choice.
I can imagine there are times that it would be hard to go through life this way. When we see someone we love driving recklessly, heading toward a cliff, we have to decide how we want to respond—we can create a roadblock, or we can clear the roads. And at least it will have us thinking about what might be best for them, instead of blaming them for our problems.
Our challenge, of course, is to keep our relationships from becoming drag races. The point is not who can reach the finish line first. Rather, we want our relationships to be like a Sunday drive , or a really great tail-gate party, depending on what floats your boat.
I think I’ll try this out for a few weeks to see how it works. Perhaps I can put an end to the warring in my relationships, and try to figure out what kind of car I think each of my loved-ones might be driving. I suspect they might change from day to day. In any event, it’s got to be easier than trying to cross a moat to get to my kitchen table…and, I suspect, much more entertaining.
So, what do you think? Let see what happens when weapons in relationships are replaced by windshield wipers! Shields down, engines ready.
I’m revving to give it a try.
This blog also appears as part of my regular column on ShareWiK.com.