The other day, I posted some of the ground rules for communication that my Andy and I have established in my house. I hope it didn't sound smug. Just in case it did, I would like to contribute an addendum so that you know we're human. The truth is, the last two times we ordered Chinese food, we fought about it. I wish I could tell you why, but I can't really remember. Isn't that always the way?
I'm pretty sure it was mostly my fault. I'm not saying that to be gracious, but I don't really care for Chinese take-out. I am also a general stress ball. The two don't mix. A suggestion that we have dinner delivered from the place downstairs (yes, we're that lazy), can send me into a huffy state of defiance mixed with grudging compliance. "Doesn't he know my feelings about lo mein? Well, he should." It's a petty inner monologue, but sometimes I still struggle with speaking up. In the end, my patient Andy has to bark at me to say what's on my mind, which only makes me more crabby.
What is wrong with me?!
The details of life are where we parse through the tiny inner-workings of ourselves and our relationships. My guess is that we all have stories of The Stupidest Fight We Ever Had. Sometimes, that minutia can build up into a dangerous plaque that hardens and makes us less pliable in our relationships (resentment as relationship quick sand). But other times, if we have a sense of humor, can resolve the issue quickly, and are honest enough to do some self-reflection, the conflicts that arise in the mundane stuff of life can clear out cobwebs and shed some light on our darker corners.
I am a compliant person, conditioned to bend myself to fit a situation irrespective of its suitability. Here, The Stupidist Fight was a fortune cookie. The lesson in it: Speak up if you want a burrito instead of an eggroll. It's that simple. Sometimes it takes a conflict over something inane to show us the lessons we have a hard time seeing in bigger, usual circumstances.
And you? Was there a lesson in your Stupidest Fight?
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