If he dropped it right there and didn’t try to find out what was bothering me, I’d start getting angry at him. Then I’d be both angry and hurt. See how complicated I can be?
If I can’t figure myself out, how in the world is my husband supposed to? Women are complicated. I know because I am one. Men, on the other hand, aren’t so complicated, but since men and women don’t think the same way, it takes awhile to figure them out.
Being with someone over the years has its benefits. Over time you learn how to read someone’s actions better than you could read his words. According to some studies, nonverbal communication represents more than 65 percent of communication, with many sources citing statistics as high as 90 percent. 1 Whatever the percentage, we know that our primary source of communication is through body language.
When Michael is bothered about something, I can usually see it right away by looking at his eyes. He’s unfocused, and he looks to his left. If he’s really frustrated, he goes on a mad cleaning spree. He’ll walk into the kitchen and start loading the dishwasher. I can hear the dishes clanging and the cupboard doors closing.
The way I used to handle it is that I’d rush in there and say, “Stop cleaning. I want to talk to you.” The way I handle it now is that I let him clean for a little while first, and then I go in. That way we both win. He blows off a little steam, and I get a clean kitchen.
I don’t know what my “tells” are exactly, but I do know that he can read them loud and clear. If I’m really upset, I’ll go lie in the bed. He always comes up, sits on the side of the bed,and talks to me until things are talked out. I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t persistent enough to follow me upstairs and sit there waiting for me. I love that about him!
In many ways things have gotten so much easier because I’ve come to learn who he is and how to read his emotions. But like everyone else, we still have our bouts of miscommunication. I can’t tell you how many times that we got our wires crossed while out shopping and ended up in a fight. Okay, I can. Maybe five? But it felt like a hundred. We’d go to the mall, plan to meet at a certain place at a certain time, and somehow one of us would get the location mixed up. How did that keep happening? We’d both stand there waiting for more than an hour. Of course this was before cell phones.
All I could think of was how insensitive he was for not showing up. How could someone do that? Was his time more precious than mine? How much was a cab? Maybe I should call one and take off? Maybe I should teach him a lesson? And while I looked at my watch, I’d think of a thousand and one things I’d say to him once we got home.
Finally, we’d spot each other wandering through the mall. After exchanging a few words of frustration, I could see that he had a valid excuse for not showing up. But you know what? When you’re that angry, it’s hard to let it go. Something inside you wants to hang on to your anger, as if holding on to it will redeem your frustration. It doesn’t. It just prolongs that ugly feeling of anger.
Even with cell phones, communication can be a problem. My daughter started high school this year, so we got her a cell phone to call us when she needed a ride home or had to stay late after school. The second week of school, I went to pick her up at the bus stop at 4:10. She wasn’t there. I figured that maybe her bus was late, so I tried again about ten minutes later. Seeing that she still wasn’t there, I put dinner on and got busy in the kitchen. Three more times I put dinner aside, hopped in the car, and went to see if she was at the bus stop or walking home. Nothing.
Around 6:00 I told Michael that Madison was due home at 4:00, and I hadn’t heard from her yet. I left about ten messages on her cell phone, but she wasn’t picking up. When 6:30 rolled around and still I heard nothing, I started to
If I can’t figure myself out, how in the world is my husband supposed to? Women are complicated. I know because I am one. Men, on the other hand, aren’t so complicated, but since men and women don’t think the same way, it takes awhile to figure them out.
Being with someone over the years has its benefits. Over time you learn how to read someone’s actions better than you could read his words. According to some studies, nonverbal communication represents more than 65 percent of communication, with many sources citing statistics as high as 90 percent. 1 Whatever the percentage, we know that our primary source of communication is through body language.
When Michael is bothered about something, I can usually see it right away by looking at his eyes. He’s unfocused, and he looks to his left. If he’s really frustrated, he goes on a mad cleaning spree. He’ll walk into the kitchen and start loading the dishwasher. I can hear the dishes clanging and the cupboard doors closing.
The way I used to handle it is that I’d rush in there and say, “Stop cleaning. I want to talk to you.” The way I handle it now is that I let him clean for a little while first, and then I go in. That way we both win. He blows off a little steam, and I get a clean kitchen.
I don’t know what my “tells” are exactly, but I do know that he can read them loud and clear. If I’m really upset, I’ll go lie in the bed. He always comes up, sits on the side of the bed,and talks to me until things are talked out. I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t persistent enough to follow me upstairs and sit there waiting for me. I love that about him!
In many ways things have gotten so much easier because I’ve come to learn who he is and how to read his emotions. But like everyone else, we still have our bouts of miscommunication. I can’t tell you how many times that we got our wires crossed while out shopping and ended up in a fight. Okay, I can. Maybe five? But it felt like a hundred. We’d go to the mall, plan to meet at a certain place at a certain time, and somehow one of us would get the location mixed up. How did that keep happening? We’d both stand there waiting for more than an hour. Of course this was before cell phones.
All I could think of was how insensitive he was for not showing up. How could someone do that? Was his time more precious than mine? How much was a cab? Maybe I should call one and take off? Maybe I should teach him a lesson? And while I looked at my watch, I’d think of a thousand and one things I’d say to him once we got home.
Finally, we’d spot each other wandering through the mall. After exchanging a few words of frustration, I could see that he had a valid excuse for not showing up. But you know what? When you’re that angry, it’s hard to let it go. Something inside you wants to hang on to your anger, as if holding on to it will redeem your frustration. It doesn’t. It just prolongs that ugly feeling of anger.
Even with cell phones, communication can be a problem. My daughter started high school this year, so we got her a cell phone to call us when she needed a ride home or had to stay late after school. The second week of school, I went to pick her up at the bus stop at 4:10. She wasn’t there. I figured that maybe her bus was late, so I tried again about ten minutes later. Seeing that she still wasn’t there, I put dinner on and got busy in the kitchen. Three more times I put dinner aside, hopped in the car, and went to see if she was at the bus stop or walking home. Nothing.
Around 6:00 I told Michael that Madison was due home at 4:00, and I hadn’t heard from her yet. I left about ten messages on her cell phone, but she wasn’t picking up. When 6:30 rolled around and still I heard nothing, I started to
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