In The Imitation Game, a biopic about Alan Turing, the father of modern computing, a school friend proffers the young Alan a book about codes and cyphers. He explains that codes are “messages that anyone can see, but no one knows what they mean unless you have the key.” Confused, the socially challenged genius says, “How is that different from talking? When people talk to each other, they never say what they mean. They say something else. And you’re supposed to just know what they mean. Only I never do.”
Communication is inherently difficult for all of us, not just Turing. Just look at what’s involved:
The fact that every discussion doesn’t quickly devolve into confusion is a miracle. The messages we receive are seldom exact replicas of the messages that were sent. They are a blend of the intended meaning and the distortions produced by our own hopes and fears about what the person really meant. Our interpretations slide in so readily and automatically that it’s easy to miss them. This affords us a perfect opportunity for the creation of unhappiness.
One strategy is to presume that what we heard is what the other person intended to say. This alone is sufficient to create reams of confusion and discord.
No need to stop there, however. Rather than sticking with the words spoken, we can put on our Sherlock Holmes hat and use the message as a starting point for a deep interpretation of the other person’s meaning, motives, and overall personality. With every interpretive step away from the actual words of the message, we create more room for distortion. Error after error will creep in, until the meaning we think we are responding to is entirely of our own making.
When a friend asks for the salt in that particularly quiet way, for example, you can convince yourself that she has revealed her intense dislike of you—as well as her general snobbishness—when in reality she is just shy. And you’re off and running:
The lovely forest of your friendship will have been set aflame, and you can warm your hands as it burns to ashes.
The closer the relationship, the greater the opportunity for misunderstandings and unhappiness. You can tell yourself with assurance that you truly know the other person, so you can believe in your interpretations even more than you ordinarily would.
Married couples, for example, frequently come to know one another so well that they stop checking their understanding with each other. Two sailboats on virtually the same course—only a single degree’s difference on the compass—will be thousands of miles apart after a few years. The result is that long-term couples often have tremendous faith in their understanding of the other person, when in reality they understand their spouse less than they do the plumber.
One of the maxims used by relationship therapists is, “Whatever the argument is about is not really what it’s about.” A dispute over emptying the cat litter has nothing to do with the cat litter—it’s about whether one feels valued or important. Half of marital therapy is getting each partner in turn to listen while the other has a chance to fully express his or her thoughts and feelings. The revelations about what’s really going on inside one another can often produce the greatest progress.
So if it is your goal to be less happy, consider this your license to over-interpret. Don’t check out people’s meaning or intent. Assume you know it already, and react accordingly. Here are some signs that you are doing well:
You can’t really read minds. But if you want misery, don’t stay in your own head. Guess what they meant, and then act on it. It’s like setting a match to gasoline.