My friend Julia was over last night. Stephen was out of town, and she came over to give me a bit of adult company. We were chatting about all sorts of topics. I was telling her about the communication cycle that Stephen and I can't seem to figure out how to alter.
I gave her an example. On the way to church Sunday, we stopped at the donut shop. He went inside, and the kids and I stayed in the car. For some reason, he left the radio running. The line was long, and it took him awhile. After a bit, I realized what was happening. I made sure the car would start, and then I took the keys out of the ignition. We both know our battery will die quickly. He came back with coffee and donuts. He tried to turn the car on, but it wouldn't start. I didn't realize the lights were on (it was almost eleven and sufficiently bright outside) and hadn't turned them off.
He suggests that we walk to church, and then he'll come back afterwards with someone to jump it. Church is a mile away. We have five kids. It's January. It's not super cold, but it's still January. I had just taken the first bite of my long awaited Sunday morning donut.
I turn to him, and say in a reasonably angry and annoyed voice, "Why in the world would you leave the car on!?"
He does not receive this well. He is defensive. He tells me I always have to blame someone. I tell him he never says he is sorry. I tell him he never takes responsibility. We walk to church mad at each other.
Julia, who is listening to my story, pulls this Brene Brown video up. You should watch it right now.
Well, S**T.
I sent it to Stephen. I was pretty sure he wouldn't be confused as to who the blamer is in the family. I think he got a particular kick out of the fact that her husband's name is Steve.
So now I've got to figure out with what I should replace those beautiful, self-righteous fifteen seconds.
I gave her an example. On the way to church Sunday, we stopped at the donut shop. He went inside, and the kids and I stayed in the car. For some reason, he left the radio running. The line was long, and it took him awhile. After a bit, I realized what was happening. I made sure the car would start, and then I took the keys out of the ignition. We both know our battery will die quickly. He came back with coffee and donuts. He tried to turn the car on, but it wouldn't start. I didn't realize the lights were on (it was almost eleven and sufficiently bright outside) and hadn't turned them off.
He suggests that we walk to church, and then he'll come back afterwards with someone to jump it. Church is a mile away. We have five kids. It's January. It's not super cold, but it's still January. I had just taken the first bite of my long awaited Sunday morning donut.
I turn to him, and say in a reasonably angry and annoyed voice, "Why in the world would you leave the car on!?"
He does not receive this well. He is defensive. He tells me I always have to blame someone. I tell him he never says he is sorry. I tell him he never takes responsibility. We walk to church mad at each other.
Julia, who is listening to my story, pulls this Brene Brown video up. You should watch it right now.
Well, S**T.
I sent it to Stephen. I was pretty sure he wouldn't be confused as to who the blamer is in the family. I think he got a particular kick out of the fact that her husband's name is Steve.
So now I've got to figure out with what I should replace those beautiful, self-righteous fifteen seconds.
This is so powerful. I've been thinking about it since you first posted and showed it to my husband today. We are both blamers. For the most part we've kept it out of our marriage, but the kids receive the brunt of it. I don't know where to go from here, though.
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