Communication and Conflict Avoidance

Yesterday afternoon, I decided to pick up my (electronic) copy of the book on codependency my therapist recommended to me.  I got almost three quarters of the way through it before I stopped reading it almost a year ago.  At the time, I stopped because I had so many positive changes going on in my life that I didn't feel like I needed it any more.  And at that time, I didn't.  The book had helped me identify a number of things about myself and my life that were problematic and develop plans to change them.

Lately, though, I've been having a nagging feeling that maybe I should pick it up again.  Perhaps I felt like the progress had slowed a bit too much.  Or perhaps I felt like I'm becoming more aware of new issues -- or new manifestations of old issues -- that I need to ponder and work through.  Or perhaps I just thought reading it would give me more to write about on this blog.^[1]

This little guy understands
assertiveness.  And courage.

So I bit the bullet and read the next chapter, a chapter on communication.  At this point, I'm ready to make accusations against the gods for plotting against me.  Well okay, they're really not plotting against me.  The chapter proved to be quite beneficial to me, because communication is one of those issues I know I'm struggling with right now.

For example, I realize my communication lately with Sweet Cynic has been a bit passive aggressive.  Because of some recent happenings between him and myself, I've come to realize that a lot of times, I really don't enjoy hanging out with Sweet Cynic all that much.  Sure, he's nice to talk to, and it's nice to actually have someone at a bar with me so I don't have to either sit in silence or force myself to start random conversations with total strangers.

But it's less fun when Sweet Cynic turns into a drama queen and spends the whole time talking about his problems and his misadventures --  never noting how he's contributed to those problems or navigated his course through those misadventures, of course.  It's less fun when he starts getting obnoxious and confrontational -- and then accuses other people around him (including me on occasion) of trying to start something or getting their panties in a twist.  It's less fun when he asks me how I'm doing, and I answer only to have him turn the conversation back to himself -- especially in those cases where I try to express something in my life that upset, troubled, or saddened me and he immediately one-ups me with one of his problems.  And as I've mentioned before, it's less fun when I decide when I decide I need to call it a night and suddenly find myself having to either wait for him or get downright pushy about leaving.

So I'm doing to limit the amount of time that I spend with him and I'm trying to go out more without him.  This is a good thing.  The problem is that I'm not accomplishing this through entirely healthy means.  Rather than simply telling Sweet Cynic, "Sorry, but I'd rather go out alone tonight" -- something I have every right to do -- I tend to avoid him.  I'll hope he doesn't contact me and even ignore calls or texts (pretending to "miss" them, mind you) from him.  On rare occasion, I'll make excuses on why I can't make plans with him.  All to avoid saying that one sentence.

There's a reason I want to avoid saying that sentence, mind you.  I don't want to deal with the drama that will almost certainly ensue.  If I tell him that I simply don't want to take him out with me, he'll demand to know why.  Telling him all of the above would not go well.  He'd deny it.  He'd make excuses why I'm wrong.  He'd try to guilt me into taking him anyway.  And even if he did admit I had some valid complaints, he'd simply try to smooth talk me into believing he wouldn't do those things anymore (a claim I'm disinclined to believe).

This is where I need to take Southern Helle's advice (and that of the book's author) and go with simple brevity and replying to all requests or demands for an explanation with, "I'm sorry, but I don't feel I owe an explanation beyond, 'I don't wish to do that at this time.'"  Granted, that will probably upset him and might even cause him to decide to quit talking to me.  But if I'm being perfectly honest with me, that probably wouldn't be a horrible thing.  Especially if he's not going to respect a simple "I don't want to do this."  I just hate doing things that are likely to end friendships, even friendships that are sometimes broken and unhealthy.  It's much easier to push someone out of your life when they're clearly nothing but a source of trouble and headache.  But when you see some good in the friendship, it's hard to do, even if the headaches and trouble tend to outweigh the good.

Then there's the fact that I still struggle with the idea that I have a right to set such hard boundaries and be so hard-nosed about it -- as indicated by the fact that I classified saying something as calm and friendly as saying, "I'm sorry, but I don't want to do this" hard-nosed.  That's something I definitely need to still work on.  I need to continue to retrain myself to see that as simply being kindhearted while respecting myself and my boundaries.

The author of my book actually recommended another book, "How to be an Assertive (Not Aggressive) Woman" by Jean Baer.  (The author says it's a good book for men too, and I'm sure she's right.)  I'm thinking I may order a used (alas, it's out of print) copy when I get paid next.  Now that I've learned to accept my needs and boundaries, I think becoming more comfortable with expressing them is the next order of business.

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^[1]There actually is some truth to that one.  I've noticed that my most read posts tend to be those in which I talk about my personal struggles and triumphs, so I've considered delving more into my struggles with codependency to see what kind of interest it generates and maintains.