I hope that my blogs aren't repetitive. If they are, charge it to my head not my heart.
To a woman who grew up with love and acceptance, a man's bark is of no consequence. She remembers the love that she received from her dad or significant male figure. When his voice got that deep bass tone in it, she learned that it brought order and reminded her that she was protected. Not in my case. Though I am a self-proclaimed daddy's girl, I didn't grow up with that healthy distinction. My dad was a very black and white thinker and didn't know how to be the gray that his daughters needed. He was very critical. He was. He always fussed about something or another. It's odd that a man with such a big heart could be so testy but he was. When I was a little girl of about 3 or 4, I welcomed his big voice. "Alice Lee!," he'd yell. I would stop whatever I was doing, run and jump in his arms. Sadly, something shifted. My dad became a complainer and super critical.
Because of that, his bark became a one size fits all. Painful!! I became conditioned to feel threatened whenever I heard that sound. In normal households, a man's voice is not one size. Though he is direct and declares the direction, he is not being hurtful. Men don't mix words. They don't weigh out what they are going to say most times. It just comes up and out. My Robert is no different. Though he prides himself on being diplomatic - and is for the most part - when he is fixing or declaring, he is direct.
"I've got to learn what his barks mean," I said to the counselor. Using a dog as a metaphor, I further analyzed. Dogs bark. Not every bark means I should jump on a table and call for help. Though this is true to my mind, my emotions don't know the difference.
In usual fashion, my fiancé rose to the occasion. In our private discussion after the session, he explained how he is feeling and what he needs at the time. He admitted that he feels anxious when he, "the fixer," is caught off guard. If he feels pressured to do something he hasn't thought through, he reacts. Usually, he gets up and starts pacing as he talks. His talking has a sound of alarm. I can't explain the actual decibel. All I know is it feels intimidating. What he explained was if he has time to process things, he gets back to okay. What I learned was that it is not personal. It is not even directed at me.
We both recognize our anxiety triggers. Even more significant, we both recognize how we calm each other. Though I confessed that my responses were more about me than him, we did see the soothing quality of it. I acknowledge his body language and talk about it in a nonthreatening way. Emotionally, it was a learned way to calm the situation so I can run to safety. I no longer needed to run though because his willing spirit assured me of safety. I learned that even when he's barking, he isn't hurtful or dismissive. He remains open to me. That soothes me! How cool! We are building trust. We are becoming each other's safe place.
You see, for some couples, a hearty argument is healthy. They are expressive and okay with it. They can banter without it causing hurt feelings. He and I don't do it that way. It's not to say that we won't eventually, but for now, we are having to build trust. My ear is being trained to hear things more broadly.
As our counselor encouraged, "You have the opportunity to create your own language." It's not easy to learn a new language. It comes with practice. Practical to us, I'm learning to feel the discomfort while at the same time staying open to the teacher.
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