Secret language

We’re driving together, my wife and I.  I crack the window for fresh air.  Ten seconds later she touches her shoulder, as if to ward off a chill.  I close the window.

I turn up the radio for a Bach cello passage.  Her sigh is barely audible.  I turn down the music.

We’re married 38 years.  I know her moves, she knows mine.  (For example, I have a special cough that reminds her I hate Frazier reruns.)

We share a secret language.

Pretty normal.  All couples find such ways to communicate with — and yes, control — each other.

We signal feelings, preferences and reactions to our partner, and our partner adjusts accordingly.  Secret-language messages fly back and forth between us all day long.  Couples together a while speak it automatically, even unconsciously,

It’s mostly harmless, even helpful.  Saves time, energy, strengthens our bond.

But some people depend on secret communication because they don’t know how to express themselves in an unsecret way.

Most couples I see for marriage counseling lack this ability.  Usually they grew up in families unable to model healthy emotional communication.  They’ve no clue how to talk about feelings.  Secret language – what therapists call acting-out — is the only one they speak.

They also tend to expect others to intuit their meaning.  If you really loved me, they rationalize, you’d know how I feel.

But that’s silly.  My wife and I love each other.  We still can’t read each other’s minds.

Back in the car I notice a tinge of resentment.  That Bach I turned down is Yo-Yo Ma playing the deep, gorgeous prelude to the First Cello Suite.

“I’m turning this up,” I say.  “It’s short.  Okay?”

“Sure,” my wife says.

Most relationships are ruined not by what we express, but by what we hold back.