Fight Club
In the movie Fight Club a bunch of poorly–fathered-yuppie-man-boys came of age by testing themselves in nightly bare-knuckle brawls. They may have gone to work battered and toothless but they followed the one rule of fight club; you don’t talk about fight club. Most couples also avoid talking about fighting. We act as if it were something unexpected that we should be ashamed of. We entertain the fantasy that healthy couples don’t fight. All couples fight, some with stealth and some with frightening vitriol; so let’s talk about fight club.
No one needs to teach you to fight. We come into the world shocked, blinded, and cold only to be slapped on the butt. We may improve our technique as we argue with our siblings over food, toys, and fairness. We watch with fear and trepidation when our parents argue. Their methods of entering and resolving conflict shape the version of normal we will take to our own relationships. Our competence and techniques develop, but we know how to fight because it is in our nature.
If you google conflict resolution you will find hundreds of sources and lists on how to have a fair fight. Most of these will include encouragement to use I messages, avoid blaming and character assassination. It’s great DIY material and I trust that you can find it. What is more interesting to me is why we fight, and how to grow personally and relationally when we do. Accordingly, I will keep my comments to why we fight and how to improve our recovery time.
I fight because I am selfish. I can come up with other reasons like self-respect and self-preservation, but all my reasons start with self. James (4:1) asks the question bluntly, “What causes quarrels and fights among you? Is it not your selfish desires that war within you?” If I choose to believe him then I should be able to resolve the painful conflict much sooner by asking questions that get at why we are fighting. More often I skip this altogether and just try to win.
But let’s focus on that rare occasion that I interrupt the pattern to answer the question why are we fighting, or more to the point why am I fighting. This is hard to accomplish because there is no more patterned ritual in a relationship than how we fight. Don’t believe me? Next time you verbally box with your partner think about this: mentally freeze the action and predict what happens next. I have had this conversation with hundreds of couples and every one of them could accurately predict the future.
Why am I fighting? What do I hope to gain? Is it something I should just ask for or would that ruin it because I not only want her to give me what I want but I also want her to use her godlike omniscience to figure out what it is?
Is the emotion I am feeling in scale with the real or imagined offence that spurred this reaction? Emotional physics quiz! Every action has an equal reaction, so if the reaction is greater that the action I’m adding something to it. I may be adding expectation or ascribing motive, or I may have been primed for a fight and looking for a sparing partner.
My sparing partner appreciates it when we begin by tapping gloves, usually by saying what I’m upset about, acknowledging that we are about to engage. This is part of what makes the fight fair, if you just start swinging it’s not a boxing match it’s a mugging.
Another helpful hint I can’t resist sharing is to avoid multi-tasking. This is an activity that accomplishes little more than reducing the boredom of a person who is giving less than optimum attention to two or more concurrent tasks. The more dangerous or important the task the less effective multitasking will be. Ali never tried to watch the ballgame while in the ring with Frazier; I’m just sayin.
Admitting why I am fighting helps me to speak the truth about what is bothering me and why it troubles me so much. The reason it doesn’t happen as often as it could is that it would require setting aside my desire to win, which involves serving my selfish desires rather than doing what’s healthy. I still might be too worked up to talk about it immediately. It may take solitary time in prayer before entering the conversation. If I do need time to calm down then its important that I verbalize that this is what I am doing and set a proximate time to return.
It’s easier to aggressively rant with righteous indigence and attempts to turn the tables of blame. It’s also simple, when the tactic serves, to give the silent treatment. Going incommunicado for a long stretch without agreeing upon a time to work toward resolution looks like the silent treatment. Even if I am praying about my anger, my attitude, or how to best communicate, it feels like the silent treatment. There new are in the clinch, no punches are thrown and the clock running down. If I can’t win with force I will run out the clock.
With aspirations to fight fair, with less frequency and faster recovery, I pledge speak the truth, as I understand it, in love. I will admit why I am fighting to God and me and you. I’ll tell you what I am upset about and I’ll agree to discuss it with the goal of understanding rather than victory. If composure will require taking a break to be quiet and pray then I’ll say as much. And when we do sit down to talk I resolve to be quick to listen and slow to speak.
Being honest about why I am fighting interrupts the whole lifelong pattern I’ve used for a fight. It helps us avoid the clinch, the evasive dance, and the shots below the belt. On a few occasions I have asked God for help to do the unexpected thing, to set aside ego and be honest right at the sound of the opening bell. It has resulted in short fair fights where the wounds teach me the honest truth and the recovery is swift.
“Faithful are the wounds of a friend” (Pr 27:6). Put up your dukes friend, let’s give them something to talk about.