Bridges of Communication, that what my college primer to interpersonal communication promised to cross in a 36 pt. Times Roman font of scholastic conviction. According to the cover, communication was a suspension bridge holding firm over a turbulent body of water. Textbooks always approached metaphor with the hopeful sledgehammer of hardhat construction.
I thought the cover should have offered a realist approach: a frame from the Bridge on the River Kwai. Exploding charges detonating years of painstaking effort to make an honest cover, and offer a happy ending for anybody not on the bridge.
“Madness…madness…”
Ok, not so we’re not talking happy feet penguin happy, but happy from a “yeah, that’s how I saw it ending” perspective. that’s how communication ends so often, and when the communication is gone, everything else follows, and yes guys, that means sex too. Still, that isn’t even the most accurate picture of relationship communication.
Communication is two roads leading to opposing sides of a seemingly uncrossable chasm. The roads begin in our past, leading to where we want to live our future. Usually somebody’s on the other side trying to do the same thing.
See them? Go ahead and wave. That’s the next person you’re trying to reach. Say “hi.” Hear it echo back? That’s how most communication ends. Guys think the pretty cheerleader in High School who you ogled from afar. Girls, think that Football player dating the tramp cheerleader you hated so much. Great, we’re on the same page, and there’s no bridge.
The next communication builders are the people we do talk to. Everybody wave. Now, lets agree to build bridges to each other. Yup, we’re spanning the chasm, talking about ourselves, mentioning all the things that are cool to us, and telling cool anecdotes like how our favorite flavor of boxed wine is called, “red.” Yup, all the stories are good, and everything seems cool, except when we get halfway across, their half of the bridge is nowhere to be seen.
Where are they? Look 100 yards to your left. Now wave and say hello. You’ve just missed each other because you were too wrapped in your own story. I say you, but I have quite the collection of half bridges myself. If it’s any consolation, it isn’t all your fault. If the other person had been paying attention, they’d have either said something to you, or corrected their path. We all fail at communication. Bridges are useless when we can’t meet each other half way.
So, it’s back to the drawing board. Communication is a lot of work, and most of it falls on deaf ears. Yeah, that’s what’s at the bottom of the chasm. It’s a raging river of deaf ears down there. I’d tell you to listen, but you can’t hear anything over their din.
Here’s the thing I learned in college communication: all I needed to learn about communication I learned in kindergarten:
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore Robby Boyd.”
“Ok, Mom.”
Fine, I’m kidding, but I do believe we learn how to communicate by watching our parents. That’s where we learn all of our best dirty tricks. Passive aggression, gunnysacking, and avoidance, are not in the genes, they’re learned traits.
How did your parents communicate? As kids we watch and learn. When mom gets a new necklace after yelling at dad for not taking out the trash, we take note. We learn to manipulate, belittle and impugn, just to get what we want.
My dad taught me that if I striped naked in the mall, I could get pretty much anything at all. Usually that starts with a new pair of pants. I’m not sure what that has to do with communication, but it does send a clear message. It was also a great way to piss off MyEx.
“Rob please, leave your pants on.”
“But I like flying free.”
“Yeah, mall security has tasers. You might rethink your naked truth. That’s all I’m saying. Oh, that looked painful…”
It is something important to think about. No, not me naked in the mall. You can stop clawing at your eyes now. I’m talking about communication, because we in turn teach what we learn to our own children. Do you avoid the real and go for the throat on non-issues? This is your legacy. This is what you’re passing down. This is how your children will build their bridges-not with Lincoln Logs.
Me, I don’t have any kids to pass my bad habit’s down to, so I stop kids in the park. That usually goes over well.
“Hey little girl, want some candy?” Yeah, that sends a message.
If only we were that clear all the time. What if we laid all of our tools out on the table and shared them with the other person building the bridge. Then maybe we could build cool suspension bridges, rather than lying like trolls, waiting for somebody to pay a toll of just deserts.
Those of us who’ve been through a divorce have seen the explosive results of bad communication. There must be a way to reach out before everything blows up. Unfortunately ten out of ten of us will let pride block our safe passage. We’d rather believe we’re right than communicate in love.
“madness…madness…”
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