I am a denizen of the modern world of dating, in which the telephone has become nearly extinct. To arrange dates and in between them, we stay in touch via text messaging, sometimes lengthy strings of them. I enjoy it, and I can't help but wonder -- what happened to talking? In losing the voice contact, what have we lost?
I once had an eccentric boss. Everyone liked the head receptionist, but after a year on the job, her work ethic began to disintegrate. She made too many personal phone calls. She forgot to deliver important messages. She frequently arrived late. The boss called her into his office for a chat in which everyone, including her, thought she would be fired.
Wouldn't it be useful if more personal fights had a more professional consideration, with less defensiveness, less reactivity and less projection? The 6th post in the Relationship as a Team series.
The fourth article in the Relationship as a Team Series. Most of us have a convoluted relationship to conflict. If we're not conflict avoidant, we're conflict prone. One of the first steps to finding balance, is to be able to tell the difference between a good fight and a bad one, and act accordingly.
In the third post in the Relationship as a Team Series, Ed doesn't want to take the garbage out at night. It's too cold, he's tired. Susan finds this frustrating. In the morning it's too full, or too smelly. If he forgets, then she has to do it. They have this fight a few nights a week, before bed.
The second post in the Relationship as Team Series, scheduled maintenance talks require couples who avoid talking to each other to move towards conscious teamwork and allows couples who work too hard to live life with each other, instead of processing life with each other all the time.
A client came to me distraught. He had been struggling in his relationship. His fiancée was non-responsive to his needs. She was consumed with and depressed about a touchy situation at work and wanted to stay home, enjoy take-out and watch TV, preferably with but even without him.
When I allow the dismal thoughts and stories associated with the feelings to lead ("I am alone," "I will be alone forever," "I am too old, too picky, etc."), the team within is immobilized. I find myself wandering aimlessly in a very bleak forest. But when I cradle my pain in one arm while holding faith, hope and trust in myself in the other, I move through the world with an exquisite tension.