When I was growing up, if my mom happened to be in a bad mood about something, my dad often shrugged his shoulders like, “Oh well.” And vice versa—if my dad was in a bad mood, then my mom basically said, “Your mood, your problem; don’t take it out on the rest of us.” I viewed this dynamic as a little strange. Weren’t you supposed to be concerned with the feelings of the person you loved? Then I got married, and I realized I had it all wrong. As much as I genuinely wanted to bring warmth and joy and positivity to my husband’s life, I also knew it wasn’t my job to make him happy. I promised to love and cherish him, for better or worse, and I would do everything in my power to lift him up and support his needs, but at the end of the day, I can control only my words, my actions, my attitude. And he’s in charge of his.
Relationships often seem like a thing that happens to us, and love is usually depicted as an item we receive. No wonder many of us spend our waking hours looking at our spouses and friends and siblings, thinking some version of So what are you going to do for me today? Meaning: what am I getting (or not getting) out of this exchange? But healthy, strong relationships don’t necessarily function that way. They’re not transactional in terms of receiving and reacting and controlling; they’re living, growing entities that require care and attention. This challenge is all about relational responsibilities: how much you should expect to give, why you need to keep your side of the street clean, and ways to be responsible for the energy you bring to the room.