Lost in translation (incomplete)

I learned last night that I need an audience if I'm to write--- someone guaranteed to read my writing. Without an audience, I feel no one will see it, or know, or care. I've accepted an offer from my closest friend to read all my work. Now that I have my audience, I feel free to write without the fear that it will be pointless.

Why do I need an audience? It may be the need to be liked or the desire for outside approval. Perhaps it's a desire for feedback; underlying all this is the need to connect.

Connecting with someone requires work. My husband and I frequently suffered communication disconnects, not because we didn't understand the words the other one used, but because we brought our own ideas to what they meant. Even conversations that appeared noncontroversial demonstrated the problem. I remember this exchange:

"Honey?"

"Yes?"

"I was hoping to go to the store and buy some more towels."

"Fine. Let me get my keys and we'll go right now."

Since I don't drive, my husband has to take me. I decided if I brought this up in advance, he could fit it into his schedule at some point. Towel purchases aren't time critical and I was content to wait. I knew he already had other tasks facing him. I decided forcing him to drive me somewhere was inconvenient and I didn't want to be an inconvenience. I could wait. What I wanted could wait, because it was just me, and my desires weren't as important. My husband would take precedence, at least in my mind, for these reasons.

He viewed it differently. He wanted to tackle this task while it was fresh in his mind. He didn't object to doing it immediately. I was his wife and if I wanted towels, I'd get them then. My desires were paramount for him; taking me to make this purchase pleased him. My satisfaction rewarded his response. I was more important than anyone else. So, the sooner, the better, at least for him.

This type of disconnect happened because neither of us translated the conversation through the filter of the other viewpoint. I forgot his "do it now because she's important" approach, while he didn't see my attitude of "it can wait; it's only me." The problem appeared logistical, but revealed the blind spots we held about each other's thinking. The "she's important/ I'm not important" dynamic showed clearly in this instance.

Over time, we began explaining ourselves to one another. I found myself using phrases I previously considered psychobabble, such as:

"I become upset when..."
"I don't understand this..."
"Your tone of voice makes me believe you're angry, because..."
"I consider myself unimportant since..."


Clarifying our points helped us communicate more effectively with each other, but had a few other results. Since my husband and I come from different sets of experiences, our words and actions reflect that. My insecurities became something to overcome. I had to expose the reasons why I felt or responded the way I did and my husband bolstered me in those areas. His opinion of me inched its way into my thinking and my attitude toward myself changed. I stopped thinking I was stupid and foolish and untalented, all things I had heard when younger.

We began clarifying our thinking for our children as well. It saved a lot of aggravation. I used to resent some of the tones of voice my sons used. I thought they had bad attitudes; what they actually had were allergies! Both children suffer with allergies and the sound of their voices was affected. We speak more thoughtfully to each other now, and jump to fewer conclusions. We learned to listen more and consider the thing stated. Do we always agree? No. But while we may debate a point, we don't fight. We've given each other freedom to say or think what we feel without disapprobation. We don't have the problem of our kids not talking to us, though I'm not always up to discussing the topics they raise. My personal database on Japanese Animation is almost nonexistent, as is my knowledge of tanks. But we persevere and win through to see each other a little more each time.