November 2010

My parents live over 6 hours from us, but my children have been fortunate to be able to spend a week, each by themselves, being spoiled by their grandparents.  We always plan the weeks back-to-back, and meet after the first week at a half-way point to exchange children.

A few years back, at the end of the two weeks, our son needed to be retrieved.  So, my parents were going to meet us at the half-way point.  I thought to myself, “there really is no reason to drag us all there, just to grab my son and turn around to come home.”

The week before, I had had to spend most of the week at a work conference away from home.  But while I was away, I explained this to my wife, thinking “wow, what a relief it will be for her and my daughter to not have to spend 7 hours in the car.”

I flew in Friday evening, confirmed the plans for Saturday, and went to bed.  I was pretty proud of myself!  (That should have been my first clue!)

Saturday morning, bright and early, I struck out.  Nobody was even up yet.

So there I was, driving across the state, and starting through the mountains.  The story I was telling myself?  What a hero I was!  Everyone at home would enjoy a relaxing day, we would be back by mid-afternoon, and hey, I was sacrificing, “taking one for the team!”

Imagine my surprise when I called home, and my daughter answered.  I quickly realized all was NOT OK on the homefront!  She asked where I was.  I told her I was in the mountains, about 45 minutes from picking up her brother.  She was quiet and said “mom’s mad.”  Then I lost reception.

When I finally got to better reception, I realized that in my zeal to be the hero, I didn’t really listen to my wife.  She hadn’t so much agreed as had little chance to disagree.  She was wanting to go, wanting to ride with me, wanting to spend those hours in the car.  I had been gone for several days, and now was gone again.  I would have the joy of hearing about my son’s week.  I would see my parents, not her.

Wow!  The story in my head was NOT the story that was happening.  In my story, I was the hero.  In my wife’s story, I was the villain!

Who was right?

Turns out, the same thing happens to all of us!  Invariably, we tell a story more kind to ourselves.  But if everyone is doing that, then someone else is going to have to play the villain.  Unfortunately, in marriages, that is often a spouse.

My point?  Simply this:  when there is conflict, we usually tell a story that puts us in the best light, and by doing so, tell ourselves a story that puts our spouse in a poorer light.  In reality, neither is true.  We are never as altruistic, benevolent, and helpful as we spin ourselves.  And nor is our spouse as mean, malevolent, and destructive as we spin them.

Since we humans are all fiction writers at heart, making up the scenes as we go along, it is important that we be more careful with how we play the “protagonist/antagonist” plotline in our minds.  In fact, I always suggest we:

1)  See others as innocent.  Everyone really tries to do the best they can, albeit imperfectly.
2)  See ourselves as realistically as possible.  In the end, we all want what we want, and sometimes act in ways that are less kind than we would like to think.
3)  Realize that the plots, stories, and scripts we write in our heads do as much to limit us as they do to comfort us.  They comfort us by allowing us to believe what we want to believe, but also limit the possibilities that we need to be a bit uncomfortable.  That is what makes us grow!