It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I can be relentless.  A Jackson County judge once took judicial notice of this fact, sua sponte and with a great deal of heart-felt vehemence.

This fierceness manifests itself whenever I have to defend a position, or feel that I do.  It serves my clients well. I fight their battles and often win.  Well do I remember a bankruptcy judge who sustained opposing counsel’s objection to a question that I wanted my client to be able to answer.  I argued the point.  “I sustained the objection, counselor, move on!”   I argued some more.  “Counselor, I said, I sustained the objection!”  Then I offered a third rationale for the question’s relevance, and she paused.  “Hmmmm….” she muttered.  “Yes, I guess I can see that.  Objection over-ruled.”

I refrained from air-pumping but just barely.

I have come to realize that I employ the same method in my inter-personal relationships.  When someone tries to tell me how they feel about something I have said or done, my predilection takes over and I immediately start listing all the justifictions which back my position.

You’re asking me this question — I can hear you: “How’s that workin’ for ya?” Aye, well, in truth, not so much.  To be quite honest, it translates as more “I’m right, you’re wrong” than anything.  And in the context of my quest to go a year without complaining, the game of right and wrong has no place.

Complaint-free living honors the other person’s feelings, without putting yourself into the equation. If someone grouses at you, “I feel bad when you don’t talk to me!”, rather than meeting this with defensiveness (a complaint about their  honest expression of how they feel) you meet it with empathy.  I see you are feeling sad and lonely.  You have a need for conversation, and you would like me to stop running around, and be with you.  Is that how you feel?  You allow the other person to request  change in your behavior, and you consider whether you can freely give it.  It’s not about right and wrong; it’s about meeting needs, and understanding feelings.

I’m heavily motivated to embrace these changes.  Here’s a secret about me:  I have a bleeding ulcer which rears its ugly head when my life careens out of kilter.  I’ve been learning the physiology of ulcers, which unpleasantly involve massive influxes of Cortisol.   I’ve been told that I need to catch my emotions before they trigger the flood of Cortisol, and this means after the stimulus and before I respond.  You’ve heard the expression, “Count to ten”, and in essence, that’s what I need to do.  But here’s how I think of it:  Just breathe.  There’s no hurry.  My conversations with the people in my life are not on the record.  The jury isn’t watching intently, and the gavel isn’t lifted waiting to bang.  Just breathe.

And while you’re breathing, I tell myself, try listening.

I’m a work in progress.  And yes, Linda and Cindy:  The fish is still on the door.