“What we have here is a failure to communicate." Cool Hand Luke, (1967)
This morning, after checking the water troughs on the ranch and putting out feed for a calf that isn't growing as she should, I spent some time in the chicken yard with Lucy. I was minding my own business while she chased grasshoppers until one landed near me in the unfinished portion of the new addition to the chicken coop. I didn't want her to miss the opportunity, so I started clucking excitedly and pointing toward the insect.
Yes, you read that right. I said I started clucking and I clucked with excitement. Lucy and I have been hunting partners since April and I believed that I had mastered a few key phrases in Lucy's native tongue because when I cluck, Lucy comes running. This morning was no exception. I clucked and she dashed to my side. She was looking for him where I was pointing, but he was too fast and would spring away before she could get him. After the third time he jumped out of reach and vanished, I was still pointing as I searched for him. And I was still clucking for Lou when she chose violence and jumped about three feet into the air to peck my pointer finger, and walked back to her coop.
It left me curious about what I had been saying to her in Chicken. Do I say the same thing all the time but this time she'd had enough? Was it inflection that offended? Or application? Tone of voice? Did I roll my eyes like a girl lip syncing on the tikkitytok? Does it really matter? She's just a chicken after all. I'm not sure she knows I'm helping her when we hunt together instead of competing with her. I'm confident, though, that as long as I keep feeding her and taking her treats she’ll forgive me and our relationship will survive.
Unfortunately, communication breakdown with Lucy isn't the only breakdown I've experienced lately. When it comes to George and I understanding each other, well, we don't. Not only is it unfortunate, it's pretty demoralizing and discouraging. We've all but stopped talking to each other because of it. Of course I don't know that for a fact from George's perspective—because we haven't talked about it—obviously. But he gives clues.
This morning, before Lucy almost bit my finger off, George almost bit my head off. I had done something incorrectly and he offered a better way. Before I could ask a question about it, he acted out an entire argument between us about him mansplaining to me all the time. He even mocked my voice as he played my part, applying his labels to the words I might use if his assistance had been unwelcome. Last night, he hung upon me while I was trying to let him off the hook for building part of the new coop before going back to work.
It's not like we speak different languages. It's more like we speak using the same language we've always spoken, but the words mean dramatically different things to us (and sometimes we're both wrong). His "boat" could be my “doorbell” but the accurate label could be "ocean” as far as I know.
An example of our communication challenges from this evening:
Me: Did you clear out any of the area behind the tree where you installed the power outlet?
Him: What do you mean?
Me: Did you clean up between the pine trees where you mounted the power outlet?'
Him: I don't understand what you mean by clean up.
Me: Did you remove any foliage or baby trees that shouldn't be growing but were? I glanced back there earlier and thought it looks more open between the trees.
Him: Do you mean did I pick up pine needles? Because all I did was dig a little trench for the electrical line.
Me: So the answer was "no” and it didn't matter what I meant because you knew you hadn't done anything. You were making me try to explain what I meant for no reason?
And every conversation is that painful, I believe, because we are both trying so hard to give the other what they need or want and we don't want to screw it up. And I'm still struggling to not fall back into people pleasing, which would be much easier than learning a new language.
He's still living in the garage apartment, which seems to be working out pretty well, but it also makes conflict avoidance easier to do for both of us. That's not helpful. We should be engaging about our inability difficulty communicating, but I'm afraid that the conversation will sour quickly. We've considered therapy together, but there hasn't been any motion that direction. At this point, I think the best course is to have a mediator/translator present while we learn how to come together more like we used to.
In the meantime, I've become genuinely fearful of words because of this disconnect between me and George. I feel like it's affecting my ability to communicate in general, because I'm always searching for the right words. Writing has been almost impossible, causing the lapse in my newsletter (maybe you noticed). The more important it is to apply the best wording, the less likely I am to find it. I have to get myself together and find a solution before I go crazy and lose the ability to communicate altogether.
Tonight is George's last night home before he goes to work for two weeks. I'm going to bring up therapy again and try to keep the conversation brief. Hopefully he'll agree with me, and we can get started when he comes home from work next month.
Until then, wish me luck trying to explain to Lucy the reason for the expansion of her coop is to accommodate her six new baby sisters who arrived from the hatchery last Thursday. Those are clucks I'll want to choose wisely. Maybe I'll just show her the ‘documentary' and let her figure it out.
Chicken scratches the surface. Let’s you know something is there. Your conversation is hen pecking over trivialities. No time to waste. Make up and get together with mate before too much time passes. Tango time.
I'm no expert, but the dialogue you used as an example (and your comment immediately afterwards "You were making me try to explain for no reason") sounds like gaslighting...specifically the withholding type.
And your description of how he mansplains and mocks you speaks volumes about him. A grown up, mature, well adjusted man doesn't communicate that way. I know what it's like to be talked down to.
You've worked hard to get to a better place and don't deserve that type of treatment. Don't let him drag you down. He needs therapy in a big way. Good luck trying to convince him to go...mine never did.