Have you ever been to a Korean spa? Perry and I love to go, and unfortunately for us, so do the kids (love ’em, but it’s not as relaxing when you have to monitor their activities). There’s a new one here in a neighboring town, so we decided we’d scope it out alone and see how it compared to our favorite spot. For the kids, of course!

 

It was new and clean and beautiful. All the amenities were very similar, and it was really peaceful taking the day to move from sauna to sauna, to enjoy spending the rest time together, and to talk about random thoughts we were having.

Since we’d just come back from visiting with family, my mind was considering the changes in my family, especially in light of how things have changed over the years since wed all been together. My cousins’ children are all getting older, my father just turned eighty, there are different health issues and my aunt is now widowed.

This last one is what sent my mind spinning. My aunt and uncle were a pillar in my life growing up. My brother and I were always over their house, hanging with our cousins, eating up all the food, and watching The Making of Thriller. When my uncle died a few years ago, it was a terrible loss for everyone, but it was hard for me to even grasp how my aunt was living without my uncle. When we went down for the memorial she had recently sold her house and moved into a downtown apartment near to her friends in the city.

 

Aunt Barb is the blond beauty on the right…

 

So I started imaging what it would be like if I were in her position. Not to be morbid, but statistically speaking, I’m likely to outlive my husband. Where would I want to live? Where will my friends be living? If I live near the beach later in life like I dream of, will I be close to family? Will any of my kids be living nearby to help me when I’m ninety-seven years old like my grandmother was when she died?

When I shared these thoughts with my husband, he did not respond the way I had hoped. This is not his problem – he sees things the way he sees them. But I wanted him to see things my way. I wanted him to be concerned about the conflict between wanting to live in a beach house and still be somewhere my kids might choose to raise their families and grow their careers. I wanted him to want to be sure I was near family and friends who’d be close to me in my elder years, even if he was already gone. Now, of course he wants me to be taken care of. Yes, we have life insurance and we are doing what we can on our retirement plan. But his take on the situation is much more relaxed, because he has decided that he will just live where he has friends and will work on building relationships and serving in the church. Nice and simple. He may be absolutely right, and I’ve over-complicating things (which I tend to do). Truth? I don’t really know what I’ll do when and if the time comes to deal with any of this. Maybe letting my brain spin around in concern is just an exercise in futility and contributes to my anxiety. But his almost flippant response to my thoughts left an opening for my brain to offer up the thought that he doesn’t care about the things that I care about. And that thought led to me feeling alone and afraid of having to figure this all out alone. So I got angry – because anger is a familiar and less vulnerable place to land.

 

Yep, that’s “the don’t mess with me” face!

 

We went back and forth, me trying to explain my thoughts and him refuting them. I think he was trying to reassure me, but I felt dismissed. I got more and more upset until I told him that I didn’t want to spend anymore time arguing about this during our mini retreat together. Then the interesting part came: He said, “We’re not arguing. We’re just talking!”

He seemed genuinely surprised at my frustration. I was surprised that he didn’t think we were arguing, because I was positive that we were. Being surprised was a good thing, because it gave me a second to think: Why doesn’t he see this as an argument?

Now, in the past I would have decided that he was out of touch with reality and steamrolled ahead with my irritation. But asking myself the question why he didn’t see what I saw gave me a moment to reconsider – was this an argument? Why did I think it was? What makes me see this as an argument when he doesn’t?

Oh, right – it’s the thoughts I’m thinking!

 

 

While we were talking, I was thinking worried, anxious, how-am-I-going-to-be-ok thoughts. I was assuming life would be sad and scary and lonely when I’m older. He was trying to design a healthy, positive, best-case scenario for his later years. Here’s the key: He didn’t feel my fear or anxiety or sadness. Those feelings came from my thoughts, which he didn’t have. Since my thoughts produce my feelings, of course I felt those things. But he wasn’t thinking the same thoughts, so he wouldn’t feel those same feelings. So when he didn’t respond to the feelings he didn’t have the same way I was responding to the feelings I did have, I felt hurt because I decided that he didn’t care. All those feelings, and I produced them all with my thinking! It’s almost as though I was having a conversation with a script that he needed to follow, but I didn’t give him a copy to read. Have you ever done that?

I do it all the time. It’s called having a manual for someone else. You have a list of expectations and ways you want them to respond to you, but they don’t have the list. Of course things go off the rails! Here’s the good news: I have learned to identify much faster when I’m working with a manual situation. When I see it, I can step back and reconsider whether I want to stay with the frustration of expecting someone else to think the thoughts I expect them to think, or to communicate what I’m thinking and feeling and why. Then they get to think what they think, and I get to manage what I think. Would I prefer that my husband just agree with me on my fears about my elder years? Now that I think about it, not really. Him joining in on my downward spiral wouldn’t have helped. He could have tried to reassure me and tell me that he would do all sorts of things to make it be fine, but we all know that neither of us have a crystal ball. Even though his viewpoint was hard for me to see, it actually helped me. Mostly, it helped me understand that I can choose to think about this situation (or any other) in a different way if I want to. And that, my friends, is powerful!

 

 

Have you ever found yourself in an argument and the other person isn’t fighting with you? Have you ever had a manual for someone else? Please share in the comments below!