You Can’t Always Be Right
When Mark suggested the title for this week’s blog, I was a little surprised. I mean I haven’t been absolutely right about everything for a couple of days, but somehow the implication was otherwise. No fair. If I’m going to be accused of always being right, then I want to, at the very least, always be right. Or at least think I am.
How about you? Are you always right? As in, the argument starts and your heels dig in and with a defense attorney’s attention to language and steel-trap mind for details, you launch into the opening statement as to why you are in-arguably right and how a jury-box full of 12 impartial men and women hand-picked by the federal government of the United States itself would not need to hear the opposing arguments or if they were forced to endure them, that same jury wouldn’t require five minutes to deliberate because it would be so glaringly clear that YOU ARE ALWAYS RIGHT. Case closed.
As you mayknow from our website HaveAQuickie.net, Mark and I solve our problems with what we refer to as a Communication Quickie. We each listen to the other person for five minutes and then switch. If we are really pissed off and fighting hard, we will alternate five minute turns until something gives. It can take a while, but usually something does.
Why? Because instead of piling all of our mean words and feelings on top of each other, we are actually listening to the other person speak their heart. And while that person is speaking, they aren’t allowed to be blameful or accusing. They may be saying how crappy they feel, but not in the spirit of making their partner feel even worse.
By respectfully using this forum, each person, instead of getting angrier, gets a clearer sense of how their partner feels and on how they themself feel. It gives the argument a little perspective and, really, what argument doesn’t need some perspective?
Sometimes, Mark and I get to that place in a fight when we’ve had a couple of rounds of Quickies and suddenly like, a fog lifting, everything shifts. That’s when I often do something shocking. Here’s what it is. I say to Mark, You know what. You’re right. At which point he looks at me with either loving adoration or utter confusion, because I suddenly sound a little Stepford.
Then I say it again, You’re right. I see it now and I’m sorry. Let’s talk about it. And we do.
Then, amazingly enough, you know what happens next? Maybe you do. He realizes that I am a little bit right, too and these things work both ways. And then we are happy and equal for a while, until the next time that I am always right.