Merriam-Webster defines irreconcilable differences as follows: an inability to agree on most things or on important things.
I was having a discussion with a friend recently about older movies and the movie with that title came to mind. I pulled up the movie on Google to show my friend, who had never heard of it, and felt mildly appalled when I saw it pegged as a comedy-drama. The movie came out in 1984 and seeing as I was four at that time, I highly doubt that I watched it upon release. In fact, I think I was an older teenager when I saw it for the first time. I don’t always remember everything about everything, but I distinctly remember the movie feeling overwhelmingly sad to me and decidedly unfunny.
If you haven’t seen the movie or even heard of it, Ryan O’Neal, Shelley Long, and Drew Barrymore star as a family whose daughter (Barrymore) petitions the court to divorce her parents. She feels torn apart by their endless bickering and the custody battle swirling around her and decides that she would be better off being raised by her nanny. It’s possible that because I was young, the movie felt more tragic to me. Maybe I felt a greater affinity and compassion for the child in the film because I was a mere child myself?
I’m not really sure why and it feels a little silly to speculate, so I’ll refrain. The only thing I’ll share is that today, as a 41-year-old woman, I struggle with the concept of irreconcilable differences. I know they exist. Hell, I believe I have them with a few people in my life (hence the real heart of and motivation for this post). I just always feel like I want to do the work to make things nice, to fix things. I loathe the concept that things can be so broken that there is no patch, no compromise. So, perhaps I felt that back then? I definitely feel that now.
I suppose if I’m completely honest, the struggle I feel has more to do with the notion that somehow, I’ve failed if I “give in” and admit that something is inherently and irreversibly broken. I want so badly to be the person that is able to bend enough to make things work. Anything. I want to be able to compromise and be the bigger person and stretch the boundaries of my comfort zone to preserve relationships.
You see, I’ve spent most of my life being that person, but that role took a significant toll on my psyche. Even when I raised my hand and voiced my harm or discomfort, I always shrank the face of someone else’s push back or wrath. I couldn’t handle being the one who couldn’t hack it. I couldn’t handle just giving up. I also couldn’t pretend that things didn’t bother me. Not at first. Thus, my first action was to acknowledge the thing, to bring it to light. To call it out as something that troubled me, harmed me, caused me pain. It was only when the other person refused to budge that I started tip toeing closer to the line. It was only when it became clear that the other person was resolute in their feelings and behavior, that I pondered how I could make things work.
If I’m completely honest, no one had to do any real work with me, because as soon as things got a little wonky, I worked my fucking ass off to make it nice again. I felt better with the status quo and so, I worked diligently to get there. I think that’s why some people are struggling mightily with where I am today. I am told that I am being overly principled or difficult or spiteful or punishing. I am not doing anything of the sort. I actually have wished from time to time that I have some of that within me. I wish there was some part of my insides that desired a push back, a hard and definitive push back. I don’t though.
Picture a toddler who is learning to walk. Have you seen it? I’m sure you have in some respect. They are wobbly, right? Unsure. They stumble and fall. It’s incredibly awkward (also kind of cute). I’m the same with standing up for myself except it’s not as charming. I’m just starting to sort it out. I don’t really know what makes me happy. I know less about how to express that to others. I know far less than that about how to articulate when I’m unhappy and I’m completely jammed up when it’s time to let go.
It’s not an easy thing, at all. I’m not suggesting that there’s something wrong with me that I can’t seem to figure this out. Maybe you are in the same boat or maybe you have this down pat. I have to say that even some of my friends or acquaintances who are working on other parts of themselves, seem to have the ‘making themselves happy’ bit down. They are able to move forward in a way that best serves them and their needs. I’m not there yet. I feel guilty, or at least I have historically.
I’ve changed though. I’ve changed my perspective and analysis. I see things differently now. It’s a choice. I realized that it’s not about what’s right or wrong. My feelings are my feelings. Sure, my feelings can be misguided and misplaced. I can absolutely reserve the right to change them, but as for the validity of them, that shouldn’t be in question. I can allow myself to feel what I feel.
Except that I haven’t allowed myself that in a very long time. Except that when friends of mine with stronger personalities have pushed back, I’ve folded. My desire to make nice has overwhelmed my need for self-expression. This is how it’s been historically. I’m changing though. I’m working very hard to get to a place where I find adequate balance. The person who I am doesn’t crave always putting myself first. I wouldn’t be happy there. I know that I need something in the middle. I have to be able to tell people in my life when they have hurt me and I have to be able to close a door if it doesn’t feel like a workable situation. What does that mean? Well, stay tuned…
L.
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