Brain Cramps

My friend Kate thinks I’m a conflict champion. She says I face it head-on. But as I coach my teenage daughter through conflict, watching her shut down in the face of it, I realize that I’m more like her than the conflict warrior Kate thinks I am. I remember being sixteen and feeling utterly overwhelmed by disagreements with my parents or clashes with my friends. 

It has been disheartening to realize that I haven’t come as far as I thought from that conflict-avoidant teenager. As an adult, I am a safe conflict engager. If I am more than 80% sure that I have a good case and will likely prevail, then I go in like a fighter, ready to win. If the conflict is more intellectual than emotional and I think the likelihood of hurt feelings (mine or theirs) is minimal, I am confident, strong, and capable of engaging in conflict. 

But when I am confused about the conflict, when I have a sense that maybe I am at fault, when there are big feelings at stake (mine or theirs or both), it is an entirely different story. 

I married a smart, funny, meticulous, thorough, beautiful attorney. She is a brilliant arguer and fiercely principled human being. Because we are married, conflicts with her are almost exclusively emotional. Even deciding whether or not to get wallpaper or eat Thai or Vietnamese can be emotional. I’ve learned over the many years of being with this wonderful woman that I have a much more difficult time engaging in conflict with her than anyone else in my life.

There is more at stake. We live together. We go to sleep and wake up with each other. Unlike conflict with a friend who you can hang up with or walk away from, with your spouse, there is no escape. Plus, my partner is a professional arguer. She’s streamlined and organized, has incredible follow-through, and relentless stamina. I, on the other hand, while I have some of the same attributes in other parts of my life, lose them completely in the face of big conflicts with her.

With small conflicts, I’ve gotten much better. I hold my own. I can form clear thoughts and put together sentences. With bigger, higher-stakes conflicts though, I am a disaster. I get brain cramps. It’s like a charlie horse in my thinking. I literally freeze. My thoughts pause somewhere in mid-process and I become befuddled. It is like suddenly, out of nowhere I am standing naked in an ice storm and I have no idea how I got there. I look around for a familiar porch light or a pile of dry clothes or an idling car but I can’t move. I’m stuck.

Before I understood what was happening to my brain I would try to argue back with my partner, but I was disorganized, chaotic. I could hear myself throwing out circular arguments, spewing nonsensical ramblings. I could feel my inability to focus. It felt like I was in a dance hall and, while my partner was trying to dance with me, I was stuck on a thick circle of tar. My feet immovable, me trying to dance but completely unsuccessful. 

Over time, I’ve learned that the only way through the brain cramp is patience. I have to wait it out, to find my way out of the ice storm and pry my feet out of the tar. Usually, I meditate, write, or take a walk. With time, the disorder in my head settles and I understand the thoughts I want to express. I am able to form the words that explain my feelings. 

I’m not a conflict warrior. I suffer from brain cramps. But I understand now that there’s an antidote to this condition. I know how to cure my cramps, at least until the next conflict.