Burying the Hatchet

I’m not sure whose idea it was to bury a hatchet, but it leapt up out of a conversation like a clown out of a cake. And it was perfect. We buried it deep, at the bottom of our nine foot deep trench, in the dark back corner of the house, where it will lay forever. But since everything changes, ‘forever’ is a concept more suitable for those who need comfort than for those who want the real story. So imagine a cataclysmic upheaval of earth, epochs in the future. Imagine Wall-E and his pal Eva, the last robotic creatures on earth, stumbling across our hatchet in their futile attempt to clean up all the garbage people like us casually tossed into holes.

The rubber handle would have been eaten by microbes long ago. Perhaps the red nail polish on the blade would have survived. Wall-E will turn it over in his little clawed hands, wondering at the shiny red words. Judgment. Blame. Criticism. Negativity. Greed. Rivalry. What sorts of hideous earthlings felt compelled to bury this dark side of themselves?

Us, that’s who. Ever since we started this project, seven months ago, the universal reaction to our endeavour has been a barrage of stories about wrecked marriages, half-built houses, project budgets blown apart by couples therapy, and general tales of gloom and misery that trying to build a house together can bring to otherwise happy couples. The story would inevitably be followed by a slightly raised eyebrow. “And how are YOU two doing?”

Until recently, we laughed this off. Ha! We’re doing great! And it was true (except for one notable interaction on the roof of the old house, in the howling winter wind). We’d been thoroughly enjoying each other’s company, sharing the excitement of co-creativity, and appreciating the gift of having a life partner to do this with. But in the past few weeks, we’ve discovered that the pervasive myth of house-building as relationship destroyer could happen, even to us.

Enter, stage left, the evil villain- stress. As the pages of the calendar fly by at an alarming rate, enter weeks of snow and rain (seven and a half inches of moisture in five weeks!), and their partners mud and muck. Enter the un-reversability of any mistakes in the foundation or under the slab. Bring on some deadlines for subcontractors, unexpected extra costs, and an increase in rent. And there you have it- high drama on the stage. This is where Miss Quality Assurance and Miss Quick and Efficient play out repeating scenes of butting heads, exchanging the kind of toxic energy that you would never subject to anyone but the person you love most in the world.

Fortunately, neither of us is a shouter or a thrower, but when you’ve been together for 19 years it doesn’t take a yelling match to get your point across. An entire argument can take place in the tiniest tweak of a facial muscle, or the nano-decibel raise in tone of voice, or the accent of one word instead of another. Give us a decision to make, and we planted our feet in opposing stances, approaching the problem in the language of right and wrong, you versus me. We tossed slow poison back and forth, rather than bullets. And it churned through our veins for weeks, until we were so sick of it that there was nothing to do but give up the fight. Thank god for our friends who kept reminding us that it’s never as much about the other person as you think it is. That the only way out is to take full responsibility for the whole mess, and shifting your own attitude to create something different.

I’ll spare you the details and the many conversations that turned back into arguments as we tried to untangle ourselves, but eventually, we did. Instead of giving up on the project, or our relationship, we decided to give up our most treasured weapons- judgment, blame, and negativity. We’d had an old hatchet laying around, and Rebecca went to the dollar store for red nail polish to decorate the blade. Chris and Ray were in the process of backfilling the foundation, so the timing was perfect. After some ceremonial photos, we dropped it to the bottom of the trench, and watched as Chris maneuvered his bulldozer in to drop another load of dirt on top, and then pounded it down with his compactor. It felt great. Our intention is to keep that hatchet buried for a long time.