June 23, 2023
Dear Leland and Everett,
You are both attending a sports camp this week, as part of your summer break. You are both getting lots of exercise and time outside, and are coming home physically exhausted. You aren’t learning traditional sports in the way that I had hoped, but you are playing active games that mix in aspects of traditional sports. Most importantly, you are both having lots of fun.
This morning I asked you both to get in the car. When I walked outside a few minutes later, you were still standing outside the car arguing. After we got in the car, you were still arguing. As far as I can tell, you were arguing over how many attempts you both needed to tie a proper knot with a bow when changing a duvet cover (when your mom and I asked for your help earlier this week). If there can possibly be a sillier thing to argue about, I can’t imagine what it would be. And yet, even after I attempted to intervene, you argued for most of the car ride. Neither of you could help yourselves.
As far as I could tell, the crux of the argument was that Leland believed Everett needed far more attempts in order to successfully tie the bow, whereas Everett believed that you each needed the same number of attempts. I pointed out that it really doesn’t matter (which is especially true given that Everett just learned to tie a bow, and even Leland only learned a few months ago), and that what matters is that you are both trying your best. And yet, you took turns insisting that you were right and the other was wrong the whole way to camp.
What floored me about the interaction is how it reminds me of so much around me. I watch adults, especially spouses and parent/sibling combinations, argue similarly all the time. We find some trivial source of disagreement, and just can’t help ourselves but respond, and respond, and respond, until we turn a trivial disagreement into a much, much larger disagreement.
As far as I can tell, these arguments are rooted in insecurity. We don’t feel safe, and so we try to control those closest to us in an attempt to regain a sense of security. Of course, no one likes being controlled, so attempts to control others inevitably fail, increasing our sense of insecurity. Even when we ‘succeed’ in convincing others to do what we want, the comfort is pyrrhic because our efforts to control those closest to us don’t really address the insecurity we feel.
To be clear, this is not a ‘they’ phenomenon; this is a ‘we’ phenomenon. I find myself regularly wanting to control your mom, my mom, my friends, my boss and coworkers (back when I worked), and in my lower moments, you two. And of course I experience all of those parties regularly wanting to control me.
I wish I could tell you that I’ve identified tools that allow me to deescalate these arguments as they occur. The best I’ve been able to do so far has been identifying the underlying fears and insecurities driving the argument (at least from my side) after-the-fact, and then working to let go of those insecurities so that they don’t trigger (or at least contribute to) unnecessary future arguments. In my best moments I even circle back with the counterparty to ‘clean up’ the argument and explain the insecurity that drove it, at least from my side. Someday in the future I hope to be able to identify my emotions in real time, so that I am more able to prevent unnecessary arguments and stick to what’s real (e.g. how I feel about the situation). At some point I even hope to be able to help those I love notice when they are triggered, so that we can move beyond the argument to the source of the insecurity driving the argument.
I still think your argument this morning was silly, preposterously so. And yet, I can’t begin to express how much adult human energy (including my own) I see wasted on equally silly arguments. I’m very much convinced that these silly arguments are manifestations of deeper hurt, and are actually meant to help distract us from identifying or feeling the hurt. The increasing frequency with which I see these arguments only reinforces my believe that we are hurting, afraid, and often responding with misguided righteousness. I’m also coming to believe that the way we address these arguments is, first and foremost, to focus on our own healing. Again, I’m learning that only by identifying and letting go of my own fear and sadness can I avoid repeating these silly arguments. As I write, it occurs to me that these arguments can be seen as gifts insofar as they help us identify areas of hurt wanting to be identified and addressed.
Regarding the two of you, I’ve noticed a few of this type of bitter, entrenched argument take hold recently. I’m not sure if this is normal for kids of your age, but I’ll admit I’m a little concerned that you are both holding onto some hurt that is manifesting in your relationship with each other. I’ll be spending some time with each of you attempting to identify the sources of your hurt so that you can try to heal while you are young. Barring that, it will be something to watch out for, especially in your interactions with each other, as you grow into adulthood.
I love you both.
Love,
Dad
Letters to Leland 