Thread-pulling criticism

Criticism doesn't get us what we want in the moment, but it does lead to something more difficult to articulate.

Sometimes my boyfriend enters our home and we take a moment to connect.

Other times he’ll zoom past me with a quick “hey” while activating his I’m-home-and-need-to-unwind ritual, which includes unloading seventeen bags before chugging a glass of water and disappearing into the bathroom for an unknown amount of time, churning through all of the unanswered group chats from the past week.

The first thought that goes through my head is what the fuck is in all these bags? The second is how I’m just a tiny bit sad. I feel a tiny thread of neglect and disconnection.

His need to unwind is real.

My feelings of disconnection are real.

So out of the infinite options available to me, what combination of words do I say to reconnect us? To get that genuine connection I’m so desperately seeking?

“Why do you always ignore me when you come home?”

Huh. That’s an interesting choice if I’m looking for connection. If a friend of mine said this to their partner and asked my opinion, I’d say, “When you start with criticism, it doesn’t seem like you want connection. It seems like you want to fight.”

Want to fight?

Ridiculous!

Maybe.

Imagine if I had focused on willingness instead of criticism: “Hey, would you be willing to take a moment whenever either of us gets home to greet each other with a hug or kiss or random inside joke? When we take a moment like this, it makes me feel connected to you.”

I’d bet anything that his response would be, “Yes, of course!”

When we focus on willingness instead of criticism, it’s more effective in generating connection.

So why is it so hard?

Because—TWIST!—I’m not actually upset that we didn’t connect. I’m upset about something more nuanced and difficult to express. I don’t even know if I know what it is. So I bait him with that tiny thread of criticism in the hope that he’ll pull on it and unravel the more difficult conversation lurking underneath—revealing it to him and to me. It’s easier to say, “Why do you always ignore me when you come home?” and see where that conversational grenade goes than it is to say, “I’d like to schedule a time to sit down and talk through some difficult feelings I don’t know how to express.”

It’s easier. And likely more damaging in the long run.

This pattern is really common. I’ll be on a double date or in a group and hear someone make a thread-pulling criticism to their partner, and watch as the partner brushes it off, attempting to keep the social discomfort above the threshold of acceptability. And they do. But I can already hear their entire car ride home in crisp detail—like AMC-Dolby-Cinema-100-speakers-level detail, not whatever bullshit amount of speakers they have in their Laser theaters.

The first step in short-circuiting this pattern is acknowledging it.

I’ll let you know when I figure out what the second step is.