Last night, my husband called me out.
‘I don’t think you see it yourself’, he said. Not excusing me, just stating what he saw. I blinked slowly.
I’ve read enough Gottman to know that comtempt is one of the four horsemen, and the single greatest predictor of divorce.
Background:
It’s election year in Norway. The election is now 10 days away. The news is replete with polls and predictions. My preferred party is not doing very well. His is. I threw a pillow at him as the latest numbers for our region were pulled up on the screen.
We have always been at the opposite ends of the political spectrum. And I mean always. Like almost 40 years always. I have often said, mostly in jest (but maybe not?), that I vote the complete opposite of him, just to neutralize his vote.
Norway has lots of political parties, and none of them are big enough anymore to be able to form a government alone. Bring on the coalitions. These coalitions are not completely static, but do follow a basic pattern of being conservative or liberal leaning.
We can vote ahead of election day. There are booths set up several places in the city during the month leading up to election day, and you literally drop in, identify yourself, and vote. This year more than half the population will probably have voted early. I voted last week, and my husband asked me where I had found the booth. I didn’t want to tell him, hoping he wouldn’t get a chance to vote before we leave the country the week of the election itself. But of course, he passed one of the booths on his way home from work yesterday, dropped in and voted. Dang it.
‘Did you even do your research? Do you even know what that party’s platform is? I can’t believe that you actually agree with them!’ I exclaimed angrily as we watched the news.
And that is probably the issue here. I was angry. And contemptuous. Ouch.
Merriam Webster defines contemptuous as manifesting, feeling, or expressing deep hatred or disapproval. Synomyms are disdainful, scornful, arrogant, abhorrent, malicious, cruel, fresh, cavalier… Not exactly characteristics I like to be associated with.
Ok, so deep hatred is probably going too far. But disapproval and scorn and a degree of arrogance? Yeah. Is my issue more with the general state of Norwegian politics than my husband? Absolutely. But it clearly comes across as disdain for him. Throwing a pillow at him is also easier than reaching the politicians on the screen, or all those people out there who are voting for a government I don’t happen to approve of.
And who do I think I am anyway? What makes me the expert on anything? Why would I believe I am right and pretty much everybody else is wrong? And why do I feel the need to express it so loudly and angrily?
‘Especially in front of the kids’, he added. ‘They know that we are not on the same page politically, but they don’t need to know you think you are somehow morally superior or that I am stupid.’
I gulped.
‘I can’t even count the number of times you have done this over the years. It’s not ok. Of course you can vote whatever you want to, and I respect the fact that you vote differently. You need to respect me and my vote too. That’s how democary works.’
I went quiet. For a few seconds.
So, where does that leave me? I can’t say what I mean or think anymore? I need to reign in the eye rolling and heavy sighs? The Queen of Sarcasm has to put a lid on it?
‘It’s not just politics, Joanna. You do this about a lot of things. Issues at church. The environment. The war in Gaza. Women’s rights. You get so intense, and it comes across as arrogance’.
Oh. It’s not just an outburst here and there. It’s me. It’s ME. It’s who I am, not just what I do or say sometimes.
I went quiet for a little more than a few seconds.
We switched from the news to another episode of ‘An Inconvenient Faith’, that we have been watching together for the last few days. Yet another area where we are not exactly on the same page, but this documentary series is palatable for both of us. It caters to the centrists, the All Ins, and the more nuanced members. It’s one of the things that tips the scales towards staying, for me.
And then I went to bed. Replaying the discussion we had had over and over in my head. Contemptuous. Intense. Arrogant.
But I want to be a peacemaker. It has to start somewhere. It has to start at home.
It has to start with me.
Before we had built in cabinets in the kitchen, I had a fridge magnet for years that said ‘When I married Mr. Right, I didn’t know his first name was always’.
We would laugh at it, but it was true. It IS true. It’s infuriating, but it is true. He’s always right. This time he was spot on, and it hurts.
I resonate with this! My hubby and I aren’t on total opposite ends, but for sure we disagree on things. It’s so hard to not roll my eyes sometimes. Loved your thoughts!