And, oh, how I know that feeling. Sleeves rolled up. "This time, things are going to be different!" Get ready for the new me – assertive but not aggressive, firm but not unreasonable. I will move mountains. Or, at the very least, get people to put their dirty dishes in the dishwasher rather than leave them on the counter. Right? Can I get an "Amen"?
Except that, so often, it doesn't exactly go like that. A situation arises in which my newly declared rules can be enacted – I will state clearly what I need, I will enforce my boundaries, I will not let him twist my words – and it all goes to hell. I can hardly remember what the rules are, let alone how to enforce them. I get sucked into some discussion that may or may not have anything to do with what I originally set out to discuss. I find myself on the defensive. I find myself muddled. I find myself sounding whiny and screechy instead of firm and reasonable.
And then I beat myself up for being so bad at this.
It took awhile (I'm a slow learner) but I realized that what I was envisioning – a calm conversation in which everyone agreed with me – was not going to happen. At least, not without a lot more practice. Instead, I (almost) always encountered pushback. Or, as I've written before on this site, countermoves.
Countermoves are inevitable. They're part of the dance we've been doing for much of our lives but especially when we rewrite the rules. If you haven't been dealing with countermoves, it's likely because you've been just going along, being the good girl, not making demands, putting your wants/needs last or completely aside.
Rewriting the rules – ie. setting boundaries and following the badass survival guide – is going to create pushback/countermoves.
What I've discxovered, that changes the whole dynamic, is to expect it. And not waver when it shows up.
What's pushback, you ask? Well, it's someone asking "what's your problem?" or "why are you in such a bad mood?" when you point out a lack of consideration or lack of respect. It's a response of "are you seriously asking me to xyz?" or "that's just not realistic" when you ask for something.
The result?
A whole lot of us will back down, and question ourselves. "Am I being unreasonable/ridiculous/demanding/whatever?" says the little voice in our head.
The countermoves have worked.
They can take many forms. Anger, perhaps. Sulking. The silent treatment. Eye-rolling. Exasperation.
But all have one goal: To get us to erase our boundaries. To get us to go back to being acquiescent. To prioritize their comfort over our own.
That's the bottom line, isn't it? When we insist that our needs not only matter but take priority right now (not always but RIGHT FUCKING NOW), we're rocking the boat. It can feel terrifying.
But the overarching message of the badass survival guide was this: You must be prepared to put yourself first right now if you're going to heal from this. Or as She Who Must Not Be Named put it, "He can either keep up and stay or fall behind and leave."
Notice the lack of wavering. There's nothing equivocal about that. He put her/you in this position and you're just swimming like hell for the shore. He can either keep and stay or fall behind and leave. But you are not going to stop swimming. Not now. Not ever.
He'll beg you to believe him when he gives you some bullshit excuse about why he's late. He'll insist that you're being difficult or unreasonable when you demand he quit the company where he works with her, or ask for a transfer. He'll call you "crazy" when you tell him you need to sell the house where she lives around the corner, or slept in your bed.
But if what you're doing is creating the conditions for your healing, or creating the conditions for your marriage to survive, then that's what you're doing. And he can either keep up or fall behind.
Either way...you're headed to shore.
