Fighting with Emily!

Em and I had another conflict that was familiar in it's arc: I don't feel like I'm enough and am not getting my needs met. Em doesn't feel like she's enough and isn't getting her needs met.

Thank you Inside Out for an emotional education!

We tend to fight quietly. This time there was a simmering tension that flavored our whole day (I can take credit for starting the simmer with a well intentioned and ill-timed letter that sparked the burner). While the simmering was at a constant heat, our words were cold to each.

This is always a little awkward. I will answer Em curtly and then, with the same breath, giggle with Elena. Or, I'll grimace at Em and with a simple face movement smile at Sean. The closest we got to real tension was when Emily graciously attempted to bring up the conflict, saying it might be hard to talk about.

Actual ice dagger used in conflict

"Yes, it's hard to talk about. I'm going to make some coffee." (If you couldn't hear it in the text, imagine those words were ice daggers covered in icicles.) The conflict simmered through bedtime and doing the dishes.

Then I stormed into the living, having prepared a monologue that would both rationally crush Emily and prove my point and secure the victory in this conflict. Just kidding. We've found that if one of us "wins" in conflict, it usually means we both lose.

With the kids asleep, we sat on the couch (not too close) and shared how we were feeling. We practiced incarnational listening (maybe the most helpful marriage tool we've found), which is a slow, oftentimes challenging and remarkably fruitful process for dwelling with each other with understanding. This is particularly helpful when we're both entering into the conversation hurting.

What I really want (but not actually really want) is for Emily to say, "Tim, you're right and I will make all of the changes you desire immediately and indeterminately."

How the conversation actually started was, "Tim, that letter really hurt me. I know you're hurting AND I'm hurting too." Then we sat with each other (still at a distance) as we shared our hurts, our feelings, and our places of deep vulnerabilities. It's really hard to hear the person I love the most share how I've hurt them. And it's amazing to hear the person I love the most understand when she's hurt me, staying with me through the process. There was forgiveness multiple times and a deeper "dwelling with one another with understanding" (1 Peter 3:7 NKJV is one of the only New Testament passages about marriage written by someone who is married!).

The conversation took about an hour, involved tears from both of us and ended with a warm embrace (the ice daggers had melted). It was a slow process of mutual understanding that ended with the affirmation: "I love you and we're on the same team."

Same team moments are great!

Naturally this beautiful moment was interrupted by a crying baby - Elena had cut her lip right before bed and was a little extra fussy during the night. It seemed somewhat appropriate that the night progressed with one of us (your best guess) nursing Elena and the other finishing up chores around the apartment in route to an earlier bedtime.

We haven't solved the bigger issues. We still need to figure out rest, connection, quality time, and getting Sean's sleep into better rhythms. The following day there were still issues with the kids, with the apartment, and with our ability to exercise patience with those inhabiting our space together.

And, we're on the same team. Conflict like this confirms my love for Emily and the foundation of love and prayer our relationship and family is built on. This won't be our last conflict. And we will remain on the same team, even if it means overcoming ill-timed letters and icy daggers.