Why Most Marriages are Car Crashes (Daring Greatly Chapter 3)

As a boy growing up, the worst possible insult is be called a pussy. It's a horrible word, even to read. If you were to line ten boys up in a row and give them the choice to be punched in the face or to be called that name in front of their friends, every single one of them will choose the punch, every single time.During one of my soccer games as a senior in high school, my coach called me that name.At one point in the game, the ball was high in the air, and I decided to trap it with my feet versus jumping up to head it. Truthfully, I hated heading the ball. I found that it was very difficult to actually get it to go where I wanted it to go. And one time while trying to head the ball, I headed another guy's head, and probably suffered a concussion. But this was the 80's. You just "walked it off" back then.During the next stoppage of play, our coach furiously waved us over to the sidelines. I'm sure he had some experience with soccer, but he looked more like a wrestling coach. His massive calves were covered with long white socks pulled up to his knees, and he always wore those polyester BIKE shorts. Barrel-chested and five-foot-five, he overcompensated for his lack of height with a swaggering bravado. What he said next shouldn't have surprised me. He screwed up his face and spit the word at me, rather than simply saying it."Pussy!"He continued this encouraging conversation with an eloquent question."Why the f&*k didn't you head the ball?"Immediately, I lowered my head in shame. He knew I didn't head the ball because I was afraid, so I didn't say anything. I remember wanting to punch him, and also wanting to punch myself. I kind of wish I would have punched him, but that would have cut my soccer career short, and I might get called worse things in juvvy, so it's probably good that I didn't speak.But here's the saddest part of the story: I never told anyone about it. The locker room isn't exactly the greatest place to debrief when your feelings get hurt by your soccer coach because he called you out for being afraid of the ball.Brené Brown writes in chapter three of Daring Greatly that for men, our worst fear is being criticized or ridiculed, and you can't be afraid, no matter what. So to be ridiculed, in front of your teammates, for being afraid, pretty much tips the shame scales.But this happens even to adult men. Have you ever been at a dinner party with a couple, and all of a sudden, sarcastic jabs start flying between a couple? Have you ever seen the look on the face of a man who is humiliated by his wife? Everybody is laughing, but he's still feeling incompetent because of what happened at work, and now that she has made fun of him in front of their friends, all he wants to do is escape, immediately.And he'll never tell anyone about what happened.For women, it's even more complicated.Brené writes that women have to be willing to stay as small, sweet, and quiet as possible, and have to be willing to use their time and talent to look pretty. Below are some of the shame messages for women, according to Brene:Be honest, but don't make anybody uncomfortable.Just be yourself, but not if that means being shy or insecure.Be perfect, but don't make a fuss about it. If you're really good, perfection should be easy.And women are constantly sizing each other up, with an elaborate system of measurements and an unwritten grading scale which everybody feels is ridiculous, but nobody changes the rules. Maximum scores go to women who are thin and pretty (but not so sexy that your husband stares), confident (but not bitchy), and who can handle it all without seeming to try all that hard. But when a woman is all of those things, every other woman hates her for being so perfect.The man is deathly afraid of being seen as incompetent at anything, especially at work or in the bedroom. He just wants to be seen as good at something. He dials up the pornography because he feels like a man for a few minutes and nobody asks anything of him. Or he rages at his wife and kids and dog, silencing them all. And it's all because the little boy inside doesn't know what to do with the shame he feels.The woman is withering under the pressure to be totally in control at work and home, and to be thin & sexy, but she really just wants to be heard, noticed, and loved for who she is, not the image she projects. So she lashes out, not because she's necessarily all that angry at her husband and kids, but she's just so desperate for someone to notice her, to engage with her, to say that what she brings is good; that it's enough, as is.This man and this woman, the ones that vowed to be in it no matter what. It's like watching a car wreck.There is another way to live as husband and wife. And it starts by recognizing the actual human being that is you, and the actual human being that is your spouse, flaws and soft bellies and all. It starts with burning the list of what  you're supposed to be (to the ground, until all that's left is ashes; then burning the ashes), and loving what you actually are.I love how Brené ends the chapter (page 109):"Remembering that shame is the fear of disconnection - the fear that we're unlovable and that we don't belong - makes it easy to see why so many people in midlife over focus on their children's lives, work sixty hours a week, or turn to affairs, addiction, and disengagement. We start to unravel. The expectations and messages that fuel shame keep us from fully realizing who we are as people... As I look back on what I've learned about shame, gender, and worthiness, the greatest lesson is this: If we're going to find a way out of shame and back to each other, vulnerability is the path and courage is the light. To set down those lists of what we're supposed to be is brave. To love ourselves and support each other in the process of becoming real is perhaps the greatest single act of daring greatly."So what is your first step away from shame and towards vulnerability? Can you burn those lists of what you're supposed to be and actually support yourself, and your spouse, for you who actually are?This is my Daring Greatly book club, week three, which covered chapter three. Next Monday (chapter four), we'll look at the armor we use to protect ourselves from being hurt, diminished, and disappointed.