Fight Club: How To Fight Fair With The One You Love

Because we can stand our ground without scorching the earth.

Conflict is a part of life. But when we argue, when we fight for our space, our needs, our beliefs and values, we don’t have to hurt each other, or our relationship.

Couples fight. In books, in movies, and yeah, especially in real life. It just comes with the territory of being a twosome. Of breathing each other’s air. Of facing big things, small things, and scary things. We’re constantly facing the unexpected. And we’re living two lives so deeply intertwined, they almost become one.

I’ve been in the same relationship for over 20 years, which means my boyfriend is a supremely patient and forgiving man. It also means that I’ve somehow become supremely patient and forgiving myself. And so (mostly through this patience and grace of his), I’ve started to learn the art of fighting fair. I’ve even managed to pick up a few fight club rules along the way.

And the first rule of fight club is you do not … well they’re actually all first rules, so here we go … in no particular order.

The angry bed

Some say it’s okay to go to bed angry. Others say it isn’t. I’m with the latter tribe. I’m not saying that you should resolve all your issues before you go to club duvet, because let’s be honest – that not always possible. But at least declare a ceasefire and say some decidedly un-harsh things to each other before you drift off into lala land.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to say something like, “Even though I’m mad at you, I still love you. And I still wish you sweet dreams.” And I’ll hold him, and I’ll look into his eyes, and I’ll mean it, every bit of it, the angry parts and the loved-up parts. Because it can be that complex. And that simple.

The things you can’t take back

You know those nasty words with the sharp edges? Those barbed expressions twitching on your tongue, just recklessly hankering to be unleashed in all your spite and all your fury. Yeah, those words. The ones that you can’t take back. The ones that you’ll wish you never said. Don’t say them. Don’t get personal. Don’t get mean. Don’t aim to hurt. Sure, the truth needs to be said, and sometimes that in itself hurts, but find a way to be honest and authentic without the sharp claws and the barbed wire.

If I have to, like really have to say something spiky and bristly (because I still have to honour my voice and my feelings, right?), instead of calling him an asshole (because he’s not), I tell him that I feel like he’s being an asshole right now (because he is). And there’s a huge difference between calling him something nasty and describing my take on his current behaviour.

The shut-up-and-listen thing

It’s not just about you, you egomaniac. I know we’re all the stars in our own movies, but in real life, it’s not just about how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking, what you know, what you don’t know, and what you absolutely have to keep saying over and over right at this very second. There is another being in the relationship. One who also has things to say. So yeah, shut-up and listen for a bit.

This is where I’ve learned a lot. And have been humbled. Omg so humbled. There is another way of seeing things (even if it doesn’t seem like it), and often, when he actually gets a chance to talk, and I see his side of the story, I realise that actually, I’m the one who got it all wrong. I’m the one who’s acting like the asshole this time.

The dramatic exit

When the anger runs high and the emotions are blinding, it’s really not a good time for a fight. So take your exit. Temporarily. Walk out. Walk away. Even if you have to (so gratifyingly) slam a door in the process. It’s not always easy to let it be for now, especially when you’re feeling the rush of adrenaline and the urgency of a whole bunch of words that just have to get out, but almost always, it’s better to walk away, to take a breath (or many), and hit the reset button. Things aren’t always as big or as difficult or as impossible as they seem in the intensity of the moment.

This is especially important for me as a person living with bipolar disorder. Bipolar rage is a very real thing. And it’s so overwhelming that sometimes I literally go blind. And even though the most well-adjusted person can do things and say things that they’ll deeply, deeply regret, bipolar rage takes it right over the edge. So when I’m triggered, part of my bipolar self-management strategy is to walk away. It’s not always possible, but believe me, when I have the ability to walk away and fight another day, in a healthier way, it’s a battle already won.

The big illusion

Don’t even think for a second that your way has to be anybody else’s. Just because you’re seeing the world in a certain light and you have an idea of “how things should be” doesn’t mean that this is the way. I wish more of us knew just how deeply indoctrinated we’ve been by society. We’ve been conditioned to want things and expect things and shape things without questioning what we really want or need.

So there is no greater clash in a relationship than when two people suddenly realise that they want two very different things. And so often this becomes rigidly divided into totally misaligned fields of right and wrong. But know this: there are as many ways to live a life or see the world or view a situation as there are people on this planet. Yeah, that many.

The way that “things should be” is an illusion. So instead of getting sucked into the divisiveness of right or wrong, of this or that, of you or me, rather put your hands into each other’s and your energy into getting to the other side. For this, I love Rumi’s words, “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”

The blame game

Believe it or not, not everything is the other person’s fault, so don’t lay the whole package on their doorstep. You do have some kind of role in all this (whatever “this” is), even if that role is just that you’ve been putting up with it for too long.

I think sometimes we lay the blame at someone else’s feet so that we have a greater sense of power. But what that really does, in fact, is the opposite. It makes us the powerless ones. Because it makes us the victim.

I’m not talking about domestic violence here, or about abuse or gaslighting in any form. I’m still talking about natural, healthy arguments between two people who love and honour and respect each other. And within a healthy argument, when you deny your part in whatever it is that you’re arguing about, you’re denying yourself … and therefore your power to make a choice.

Instead of blame, think “accountability”. What do you owe yourself right now? Give yourself the options. All of them. Even if one of those options is to end the relationship. Sometimes this is where arguments lead us. They show us where the work is. Sometimes that work is “us”. Sometimes it’s “me”.

The flying glass

Yeah, don’t throw things. It might look romantic and passionate on the big screen with the requisite lighting and a dramatic soundtrack, but people flinging glasses, vases, cups and saucers and kettles and plates and bottles at each other’s heads is not a pretty sight in real life.

Plus it gets expensive. Ask me. I know. That bipolar rage I mentioned earlier? Yeah, that. And it’s pretty mortifying when you have to clean everything up the next day, squirming under the smug glare of your lover who knows just how much you loved that vase and how you’ll never, ever find another one quite like it.

But mostly? Fighting fair is about compromise.

I’m not saying that you give parts of yourself away. No, I’d never want you to do that. Rather, it’s about creating a little space for more parts of them.

And if you’re fair, with yourselves, with each other, if you find your balance, if you love each other enough, the compromises will be worth it. In years to come, they honestly won’t even matter anymore.

If it’s a love worth fighting for.