When I was at St. Martha’s grammar school in the early 60’s in La Puente, California, once a week we would practice getting ready for a nuclear war, which in those days seemed imminent.  Here was the drill: go under your desk and put your hands over your head so you will survive.

That’s what we did, once a week.  It made sense then. It was the best practice at the time.  Unarguably it’s not the best practice now. 

In a similar way, all of us adult children of divorce had to engage in some practices in our home life that made sense at the time; heck, they might have been a best practice in the difficult or chaotic situations we were in.  But looking in the rear view mirror, we can see that it was just the best coping reaction we could muster as children or young adults in a trying situation.  Knowing this implicitly gives us permission in our adult life to freely change things up and engage in better practices and better responses. 

For example: when I was dating my future wife, Laraine, it was time to go to Reno, Nevada, and meet my future in-laws: Bill and Teje (pronounced Tay-Ya). Laraine was an only child from an intact family. I was the oldest of 6 from a quarreling and soon to be divorced family. 

While the four of us were dining, Bill said to Teje something like the following: “Teje, haven’t we discussed this before that you keep putting too much garlic on the pizza? A little garlic is fine, but this is way too much, and I don’t understand why you keep doing that!”

This type of criticism I had seen plenty of times dining with my family, with my dad unpleasantly criticizing my mom.  That was not new. How Teje responded was new and unforeseen, and became memorable enough that here I am writing about it, all these years later.

Before I disclose Teje’s response I want to hit the pause button and share my reaction when Bill criticized Teje’s cooking.  My amygdala in the back of my brain was firing and I became not only anxious but fearful right away.  In the Bennett family, these criticisms were declarations of war.  My brothers and sisters and I would start to get very nervous because some ugly things were about to be said, leading inevitably to yelling and extreme tension.  We kids held our breath and hoped that it would not be too painful, loud, or disturbing. But it often was. We wanted to hide under the dining room table to survive the wrath.  So when Bill criticized Teje’s cooking, I was very anxious and nervous about what would follow.  I’d seen this movie before and it’s not going to go well! Like when I was a kid in school, I’d done this drill plenty of times before.

But I was wrong, and I witnessed something I had never seen before and never thought was possible. Teje responded calmly, saying something like this: “Bill, you know you’re right. I did promise to tone down the garlic, especially when we have a guest over for dinner who might not like garlic as much as we do.  Thanks for reminding me. I’ll try to make a change and not do that again.”

Bill said something like, “Thanks, Teje.”  And that was that.

No harm. No foul. No damage. No hard feelings. No mess and nothing to clean up. In my mind, it was a miracle.

I was mystified: “Is this even possible? Can someone really react to a provocation in that way? Is she being sarcastic? No. She means it. Oh my…”

Then we all continued eating and talking as if nothing had happened – because nothing bad had happened.  But in my family, that first comment would have ignited a nuclear war. Commence hiding under desks.

Once I married Laraine, who came from that kind of forthwith family, I had to “re-engineer” my sense of how to respond to honest comments and disclosures. My amygdala was trained to panic and get ready to fight back defensively whenever a criticism occurred, so it took a while for me to re-calibrate my response. I had to learn that Laraine was just being honest and helpful when she pointed out some foible, and I didn’t need to respond with defensive fury (fight) or shut down and brood (flight or freeze).  I had to train myself to have a calm and appreciative response to a constructive criticism and to reframe it as an opportunity for growth. This process didn’t happen overnight, and I can still fall back into my old ways, but it eventually did happen.  

I grew up in a volatile family where hyper-sensitivity to criticism made sense: what’s a kid in such a family supposed to do? That was then, but now I had the golden opportunity to recalibrate and build a family with honest and respectful communication which, under Laraine’s leadership and mentoring, we tried our best to do.

“Our past is understandable, and our future is shapeable,” says the Harvard psychiatrist Kevin Majeres. My initial panic reaction was understandable; but there was a whole lot of internal “shaping” that needed to happen with me to create a more pleasant and open conversation in my new family than I had in my family of origin. No matter what unhealthy or unhelpful reactions you’ve acquired from your family of origin, take heart that with practice and good will it is possible and often necessary to change your reactions into prudent responses, and to live in a better and different way.

About the Author

Art Bennett has co-written three books on the temperaments with his spouse, Laraine (The Temperament God Gave You, The Temperament God Gave Your Spouse and the Temperament God Gave Your Kids). Laraine comes from an intact family. Art is an ACOD and also a board member of Life-Giving Wounds.

Reflection Questions for Small Groups or Individuals

1. As Art described his dinner encounter with Bill and Teje in contrast with his own family, did it recall any experiences from your past?

2. How did your parents handle conflict and/or criticism from the other?

3. Art ends his post with a reflection of hope, in that things can improve in your life if you will work at it and allow the change to occur. What might you integrate into your life to become more like Bill and Teje in your relationships?