A friend recently posted on Facebook that her husband “thinks that two monologs makes a dialog.” It got me to wondering. How many people think like that? And of those who believe they don’t think like that, how do they actually act?
In my couples workshops, I often ask participants, “Who here
thinks that everyone should simply accept the fact that you’re right?” A few brave souls raise their hand and we all
get a good laugh at their honesty. But
for those who don’t raise their hands, it’s because we all know what the “right”
answer is. We know that it would be
ridiculous to believe that everyone should agree with our opinions and
perspectives.
Nevertheless, what we know is “right” is often not in
alignment with what we do or what we say.
Take for example, the case of “two monologues equal a dialogue.” Many of us would disagree with the statement,
but what in fact, do we do? We state our
opinion, monologue style, and our partner then states his/her opinion, also
monologue style. And so it goes,
back-and-forth, like a verbal game of ping-pong, until one person concedes that
the other is right – or so we secretly hope. Sadly, that, in most
relationships, is what passes for dialogue and communication. “If you don’t agree with me, clearly I haven’t
given you enough information. So I’m
just going to keep talking until you see how right I am.”
Not surprisingly, though many adhere to the 2
monologues = 1 dialogue formula, it is not true communication. One definition of communication is, “two-way process of reaching mutual understanding…” And another is, the “means of connection
between people …” However, if my agenda
is to convince you that I’m right, and your agenda is to convince me that you’re
right, then there is little chance of “reaching mutual understanding” or “connection.”
A few primary assumptions that drive the 2 monologues
= 1 dialogue dynamic are:
- If s/he’s “right,” that means I’m “wrong.”
- If s/he doesn’t see that I’m not “wrong” (aka “bad”), s/he may be angry or disappointed with me and leave me.
- Therefore, I must convince that person that I’m not wrong or I may be abandoned.
At a survival level, it’s irrelevant if this “abandonment” is physical or emotional, short-lived or permanent. Like so many of our relationship habits, this fear is driven by our hard-wiring for survival. And if an individual was punished for being “wrong” as a child, that fear is intensified even more.
As a baby, the part of our brains that grows the fastest in
the first 18 months of life is the limbic system: the emotional part of the brain and the part
that helps interpret non-verbal communication, such as a mother’s smile. Why would that be so important to an
infant? Because if that baby can’t get
mommy to connect, to engage, to care, to smile, to approve, then mommy is going
to leave baby out in the cold where it’s either going to freeze to death or get
eaten by wolves. Does baby know this? Of course not. But does our wiring for survival depend on it? Absolutely.
And this hard-wiring does not fade away as we get older.
We do, however, have the ability to use our frontal lobes,
our capacity for reason, to incorporate this insight into our communication and
into our relationships. We can better
understand the drive we often feel to express our perspective and reject our
partner’s as part of our survival dance.
We can learn to soothe that reptilian part of the brain that
feels threatened when others don’t agree with us. And we can learn new ways of dialoguing that
create true communication: “reaching mutual
understanding” and “connection.”
