Fighting the Italian way

[breakinglight11]

Whenever I see a family, or a depiction of a family, that has extended, ongoing arguments, I'm always vaguely amazed. I'm much more used to GINORMOUS ANGRY EXPLOSIONS that are forgotten about the next morning. My family is loving, close, and affectionate, but of course nobody can get to your sore spots like the people you're closest to. My dad calls the way we fight "the Italian way." We YELL, we SCREAM, sometimes we say TERRIBLE THINGS WE DON'T REALLY MEAN, then we stomp off to our separate corners to cool down. And after the cool down, the next time we see each other... everything's okay. The argument's pretty much forgotten, and we get along better again. It is predicated on the assumption that nothing can ever break the bonds of our love for each other, and that the right thing to do is always forgive. I am grateful to have that; it's taught me trust my loved ones, and of course, to be forgiving as an act of love.

The downside, however, is that it's also based on the assumption that people don't really change. They act the way they way they're going to act because that's just part of who they are. To a certain extent I do believe it. Change comes slowly and only with a lot of work and focus. Sometimes when you love somebody you just have to accept that there's always going to be things about them that you don't like or find frustrating.

But often that means that nothing gets resolved. I mean, yeah, I do think that sometimes you can't work through differences and you just have to agree to disagree. But if there is a chance that they can, you never find out, because nobody tries. There's just an explosion that you have to get over immediately. It's nice to have people who always love you and forgive you NO MATTER WHAT, but sometimes it might be nice to see something change for the better next time. Or hell, even hear somebody say "I'm sorry."

Comments

[lisefrac.livejournal.com]

Oh man, do I hear you. This is a hard thing for outsiders to understand/explain--what can look like a horrible, relationship-destroying row will be promptly forgotten.

I don't think it's a better or worse way of doing things, just different, as you've explained.

[jimnuzzo.livejournal.com]

Men often have arguments like that-- explosions and then all is forgiven-- women, not so much-- much more kept inside and then festers. Italians (written as a pure blood LOL) get it all out in the open -- In both Italians and males (and if you are dealing with Italian males--Oh, Sweet Madonna!!) catharsis occurs and so both parties can move on.
Where things get sticky is not the external volatility, it is the emphasis on preserving "face." To say "I was wrong" or "I am terribly sorry" is to risk losing face. Of course, the paradox is that the more one is concerned about preserving face the less one has to begin with. The secure, strong person has no problem apologizing because the essence of who she or he is does not get compromised by the apology.
So the next time you get frustrated that the other person refuses to apologize (or maybe it is you who should...) remember it is because of basic insecurity. That may make the situation easier to handle.

[acousticshadow2.livejournal.com]

I know this form of argument. I grew up with it, but as none of the issues ever get resolved they just get pushed aside they keep coming back. Until I met Ian I really didn't know any other way to argue. I have to say my current relationship has spoiled me. We fight, we resolve our issue and we purposely avoid blowing up and saying mean things that we don't really mean. I don't think I could ever go back to the old way. When I look back at the way I acted when I used to fight, I know I don't ever want to be that again. I'm so spoiled now.

[oakenguy.livejournal.com]

Oh, the fact that you call it that is hilarious...see, my first real exposure to this came not just through my wife being part-Italian, but it actually happened in Italy when my brother-in-law got so frustrated with his daughter being late that he, and she, and two other relatives had a screaming meltdown in front of the Florence cathedral.

Now my family's the exact opposite: we're quiet, but we take every insult or slight with deathly seriousness and treat them like bulldogs with fossilized bones: we store them away and gnaw on them for years and years. (My dad refused to speak to his twin sister ((!)) for nine years ((!!)) over a set of silverware). If ANY of us had yelled ANY of the things I heard that day, there would have been a cold shunning that lasted for decades. So they were fine a half hour later, but I was in a state of shock and dread that lasted two days just from being near it.