Last month, my husband Jason and I had our fiercest argument ever. In our six-year history, I have accepted that occasional spats are part and parcel of every couple’s attempt to weave two independent lives into one harmonious fabric of existence. Even marital vows oblige us to respect the glaring reality of love’s peaks and troughs, as we openly recite “through good times and in bad” like an ominous premonition.
However, this bad time was as explosive as a nuclear bomb. Jason made himself scarce and I refused to speak to him for almost three days. After our respective time-outs, our cooler selves regretted hurt feelings and longed to reclaim the sense of closeness forbidden by our passive aggressiveness. After a long deep and meaningful conversation, our mess was sorted, apologies were exchanged, and our issues were put to rest. Life has marched forward since, but my spiritual side insists that there is a life lesson to be learned. Do inevitable outbreaks of oral fireworks light up the relationship landscape or inescapably end in matrimonial discord? Likewise, is there an acceptable level or frequency of conflict all relationships should abide by, or should conflict be subjected to a zero-tolerance policy?
