Lesson #1: Never Say "I Don't Believe You"
The sneaky ways we fail to acknowledge each other
This post is #1 in a multi-post series called Relationship Lessons I Learned the Hard Way.
1/ You definitely farted...
I once accused my wife of letting out a fart that smelled really bad. My friend was also nearby, and it was very possibly his doing, but she was closer and I quickly pointed my finger: “Hey, did you fart? It’s god-awful.” No, she responded sharply, and explained that my friend had just gone to the bathroom and it was very likely his. I didn't listen. “Well, it really smells like your fart (because I am an expert in distinguishing farts), and I think I’ve smelled it before.” She gave me the look.
For some reason, I didn’t drop it. I needed to get to the bottom of this. God knows why. As you can imagine, I ended up pissing her off. Out of all the stupid things in the universe to get into a (small) fight about, fart accusations was probably in the top five.
There's nothing wrong with disagreeing with each other. Conflict can be very healthy and required for growth in any relationship. But when you don’t believe someone, you’re setting yourself up for failed communication. When I say believe, I don't mean trust. Trust means that you have confidence in their behaviors and actions. You can rely on them. When I say believe, I'm talking specifically about accepting that person (and often their feelings) in the moment.
You may not outright accuse someone of lying over a silly thing like I did, but you might’ve – knowingly or unknowingly – told your partner that they should cheer up, or disagreed with them on how they felt about a topic ('I can't believe you feel that way, that's ridiculous!', but how is someone's feeling any more ridiculous than yours?), and perhaps even tried to outsmart them and prove why your point (which is often just your opinion) is right and theirs is wrong. These are all different forms of saying "I don't believe you."
There are a few problems with this.
2/ You are denying the other person’s feelings
Often, we just want to be heard. We want to be acknowledged, for who we are and what we feel. We're out all day fighting dragons and demons and annoying bosses and need somebody to be on our side. And if we have to continue that battle at home, it's exhausting. We'd rather just be accepted.
Example: At the dinner table, your partner tells you about a colleague that gets on their nerves or a botched project. "Oh, that's not so bad," you respond (or something along those lines). Wrong answer! You open yourself up to the rebuttal: “You don’t care about me or what I'm saying.” No, you insist, I’m just saying that I'm sure it will be fine, it will work out...“You’re an asshole.”
You see, the worst thing you can do when your partner tells you how they feel is say, “Oh, that’s not so bad.” You’re implicitly saying, “I don’t believe how you feel.” That may not be at all what you mean, but that's how it sounds. That’s unsympathetic and, while you may mean well, it’s a really shity feeling for the other person. Disbelief is a form of denial.
You know that poster you see around sometimes (or maybe it’s a Tshirt) that says, “Good vibes only?” Yeah, this one here:
What if I’m having a bad day, though? And I want to complain and I’m negative? Do I put on a fake smile and just give you ‘good vibes?’ No. This would be dishonest and holding back your emotions. Telling someone “you should always be happy” or “you should always be this way or that way” around me is a reflection of your desires, and it is a denial of their feelings.
So, you should never get a T-shirt with the words “good vibes only.” And if you do, you know that you’re not being inclusive of other emotions.
The main point is that simple acknowledgement of the other person's feelings is under appreciated. But it goes a long way.
To acknowledge someone means to say, “Hey, I’m sorry. It sounds like you had a really tough day.” Or “Hey, I believed you when you said you didn’t fart.” (and perhaps being smarter about choosing your battles) Or “I don't really get what you're saying. I want to understand exactly where you’re coming from, can we talk about it more?”
A lot of the time, that's all the other person wants. It’s really that simple.
3/ You are not listening
You can't believe without acknowledging, and you can't acknowledge without listening. If you immediately jump into giving your partner a solution — I tend to do this a lot — then you’ve probably jumped the gun too, because you assume that they even want a solution right now. Sometimes people just need to vent. Sometimes they just want to be heard.
My cue to shut up is when my wife tells me something, I respond (often with verbal diarrhea), and she doesn't respond back. Usually this means I've said too much and listened too little. I'm still working on this, but I'm getting better. A powerful, clarifying question you can ask: “What kind of support are you looking for right now? Listening or advice?” This question could save you a lot of suffering.
Why is it so hard to just acknowledge the other person's feelings? Why can't we just accept it? Sometimes, we mistake stories for facts and want to comment on the facts. We mistakenly acknowledge the factual details of why the boss is an asshole at work, instead of acknowledging the feeling your partner has about being in the situation with the boss. But wrapped in every story is an emotion that is being expressed, or trying to be expressed. We shouldn’t forget that.
Other times, it’s not always so clear cut, and our own biases get in the way. There are some insidious ways that the tendency towards disbelief sneaks in and your ego takes over. Often you don't notice yourself being judgmental instead of listening. And it's hardest of all when your own emotions get in the way.
The most painful example I can remember is when my wife and I lost a baby. We both needed time to grieve. My coping mechanism was a futile attempt to make sure it never happened again. So I responded by doing research on the science of IVF (in-vitro-fertilization), leading me down a rabbit hole about fertility where I adamantly laid out my case about the future of genetically modified embryos and couples that will have a 100% chance of healthy pregnancies. After listening to what I felt was a very well-thought-out and researched opinion, she responded with: "Yes, but we lost a baby."
I had failed to acknowledge that she was still grieving, that we both still needed time to accept what had happened, and that any discussion beyond this was too soon to have. In short, my rant was my own disbelief— an attempt to escape my own feelings and change hers, and saying it out loud made it clear that the solution wasn't in planning the future but in accepting the present.
God damn. Sometimes you just have to learn the hard way.
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Thanks Misha for sharing.
I've often struggled with communicating with empathy and found your tips and examples quite useful.