Conflict and consent – the other side of the story
Recently, when it was snowing heavily outside, I crossed a colleague at work, who was wearing a pair of beautiful fake fur legwarmers. Enticed by their softness, I reached out to stroke them, and she said to me jokingly “And I thought you were big on consent…”. It’s true; I hadn’t thought to ask her permission before I started to stroke her!
This made me think of a situation from many years ago. It was summer, scorching hot and I put on a dress in order to feel more comfortable. It was a flattering dress, and I looked pretty good in it. I went into the kitchen, and there was my at-the-time partner who took one look at me, made a sound of approval and reached out to touch my chest.
In another situation I would have been very enthusiastic about this part of my body being touched by the same partner, but there are times and places for everything. I recoiled, and rather clumsily expressed my outrage, indignation and humiliation about being treated as an “object” and having my personal space violated without my consent. (My own experience of the situation). My partner, not seeing what the issue was, and being somewhat sensitive, took my response as a personal attack and rejection, and immediately got hurt, angry and defensive. The whole situation led to feelings of resentment and shame on both sides.
How might that have gone differently if I already had the experience of the furry legwarmers in my psyche, reminding me how some things in life can just be so enticingly sensual that reaching out to touch them is almost an automatic response? (I am in no way excusing non-consensual touch here.) Maybe I would not have let the experience trigger my personal issues around being disrespected as a woman. Maybe I would not have responded so vehemently. Maybe I would have said “I really would rather you asked”. Maybe, in response to my polite yet firm request my partner would have realised that his reaction bothered me, and maybe he would have simply apologised and made a note not to do it again.
This brings me back to my sessions working with couples. As I listen to each side of the story, their experiences are so vastly different you would never tell that they were talking about the same physical situation. It’s fascinating. Each person has their own interpretation of their partner, which more often than not is completely subjective, and far removed from the partner’s direct experience of what’s going on.
This is a normal human trait. We all unconsciously project onto others. We assign them roles and places in our lives, based on how we perceive them and what they represent for us. We make assumptions about how they act without verifying their actual reasons first hand. We don’t stop to consider the other possibilities that could be behind their response or behaviour.
And this isn’t necessarily a problem. We can happily get along with a friend, a lover, or a partner, with each person acting out their role in the other’s film beautifully. It’s only when conflict shows up (and conflict always shows up), that we are forced to confront the messy space where two worlds overlap, define who is who, and acknowledge the fact that despite our points in common, the other’s reality is indeed very different from our own.
So how do you navigate these spaces, and grow in understanding of both yourself and the other? How do you let differences reinforce your sense of identity rather than diminish it, and use conflict as a route to deeper connection? You breathe. You pause. You remember that when you interact with someone they are more often than not a canvass of your own projections. You bring your awareness to what is going on for you and you own that. You step out of yourself, just for a moment, and go into a neutral space, a curious onlooker. You ask questions and you listen with an open mind. You keep breathing. You give yourself time to assimilate this new information. And from there you decide what to do with it.
There is a certain art to staying firmly rooted in your own sense of self whilst listening to how another person experiences a particular situation, especially if that situation involves you. When it comes to conflicting opinions it’s no easy feat to remain detached and let another express their truth without taking it personally. I often use the mental image of two circles, one representing the universe that is myself, and one representing the other. The two circles are separate and independent, and when you bring them together there is a space in the middle that represents the area in which relationship is possible. It is a space that has been created, and it can be made bigger or smaller depending on the proximity of the circles. But in all cases, both circles remain whole.
What is the conclusion of this article? There are always 2 (or more) sides to the story. Each side is of equal importance. You cannot have a true understanding over something that you have not directly experienced. You CAN try putting yourself in the other’s shoes or simply asking them to describe their experience firsthand, while you genuinely LISTEN. And the more this happens, the better we can understand the needs of the other, the more we can define and express our own needs, and the more satisfaction we can create in our interactions.
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