Bill and I had this conversation yesterday about how to have more productive fights. It was actually a kind of post-mortem of a fight we had last week. This is dangerous business: like detonating a bomb. It's been lying there dormant for over a week, but, POW, it could explode at any moment if we cut the wrong wire or push the wrong button.
We recognized our pattern: Bill was in pain, he expressed his pain as anger, I heard accusations and blame, I was in pain, I expressed my pain as anger...and we were off, on a course to hell. In hindsight, it is easy to see what I could have done differently. When the pain first came up for me, I could have attended to it, given myself the empathy I needed, then I would have been in a better position to give Bill the empathy he needed. As it turned out I wasn't able to attend to Bill's needs or my own.
I find a similar pattern in my writing. I write about something from my past that touches a nerve. Suddenly I am flooded with feelings from the past, unresolved pain washes over me. The pain stands between me and the page. I have to attend to it before I am ready to go on. I have to give myself the empathy I need now, the empathy I needed then, the empathy I didn't even know I required.
This morning I was writing about a time when I had to take the steps to have someone I loved committed to a psychiatric facility. I was suddenly engulfed in shame, surrounded by a cloud of vaporise gas. When it happened I didn't have the time or energy or understanding to attend to those feelings. Now I do. I can put down my pen and let the tears flow. It is a chance to relive the past, treat the wounds and move on.
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