Being All the Way In

While I’m aware that self-consciousness is usually just the flip side of vanity, I still fear that my last post, about the arguments we had on Sunday, makes me look like a jerk. A real (as opposed to would-be) dominant guy would have stayed calm and collected when his woman started flying off the handle.

If we had an authority structure in place, I would have been just that. But given my history of passivity and withdrawal, it’s very likely that staying cool as she ramped up the aggression would have seemed like more of the same to Anne.

Although I was angry—and for a few seconds, extremely so—I didn’t lose control of myself and I didn’t say or do anything I regret. I did demonstrate that I’m no longer going to take her aggression lying down. Literally or metaphorically.

I hope that the time comes when I don’t have to demonstrate that by being a hothead.

Anne doesn’t understand why I’m acting differently than I used to. I don’t think she much liked the passive, resentful me, but after ten years, a major deviation from that is disorienting and uncomfortable. She doesn’t like being told that some of her behaviors are unlovely any more than anybody else does. In truth, I think she dislikes it a lot more than most people.

She fears that I’ve stored up dozens of these little criticisms and that I’ll dole them out a week at a time in a never-ending stream of personal disapproval. I don’t and I won’t. I’m happy about her. She’s smart. She’s caring. She’s utterly, completely honest.

I don’t insist that she change. I’m the one who’s changing.

I’m no longer willing to bite back my unhappiness with anything. I’m not going to be cruel, but neither am I going to withhold the truth for fear of provoking a scene. If conflict is necessary, let the conflict come.

I’m all the way in this marriage now. I’m not holding back anything for fear of losing it. A book by a guy named Robert Glover helped get me here. I’m working off his checklist.

Become completely transparent, even when it is uncomfortable.

Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Let her know what you are thinking.

Verbally express feelings. Hold nothing back, even if it might rock the boat or cause conflict.

Express anger with love.

Ask for what you want.

Bring up difficult things.

Be decisive, dependable and trustworthy. Let “yes” mean “yes” and “no” mean “no.”

Set the tone and take the lead (with love). Be an active decision maker. Show up with a plan.

Do what needs to be done because it needs to be done. No score keeping.

Let her be who she is. No trying to change her. No fixing. Love her the way she is or leave (with love).

Stop trying to please her, get her approval, or make her happy.

Set appropriate boundaries.

Don’t try and manage anxiety by avoiding, controlling, or manipulating her or situations.

Be who you are. Don’t hide or hold back.

Bring all your passion.

This is why I acted like a hothead. In the past, I might have stayed calm, but I would have been grinding my molars and accumulating a mighty load of resentment. My anger would have come out much more destructively—and probably when it was much less appropriate.

I’m trusting in my love for Anne. I know how deep it runs. I trust myself to keep her safe.

This is about being fully committed.

Protectiveness

I don’t know the degree to which this is shared by others, but my desire for dominance is one with my urge to protect.

When I was a small boy, I had both good and bad dreams around the urge to protect. In the good dreams, I was part of an involving adventure in which I had to defend somebody against prejudice or evil. In the nightmares, I had responsibility for a small animal, or perhaps a baby. Inevitably, my attention was taken away by something else for a few minutes, and when I came back to my charge it had died in some horrible way.

It was never a girl I had to help save. Maybe in those grammar-school years it hadn’t yet occurred to me that girls needed my help.

As I grew up, I was always most attracted to the small, competent women. Women who never seemed to shy away from anything or anyone, despite their stature. Women who proudly proclaimed that they didn’t need any man’s assistance. Women who wouldn’t give the time of day to any man who dared to condescend.

I think as a very young man, I maybe took their independence as a given. It didn’t do them or me any favors.

I came late to the concept of chivalry, and to the idea that I might be someone a woman might look up to instead of across at. Now I find myself wanting to be the man that some of those women I loved long ago might have wanted me to be. The man I should be for my wife.

When she tells me of the indignities she suffers at work, I feel angry for her. When she’s injured, I want to soothe her and help her heal. And when she lets anger possess her and she lashes out destructively, I want to take her across my knee. It’s all part of the same impulse.