This is a continuation from the previous post.
OLIVE OYL GOES BLUTO
Anne had her own version of Popeye -- "I want what I want but I don't want to ask for it." She told me that her anger at Ted came from an abiding feeling that, "he just isn't there" with her and the kids. She said, "Ted is the kind of guy who will come home, step over a pile of stinky diapers to give me a kiss, and not even think to pick them up. I have to manage the house, the kids, our social calendar..." She summed it up with a phrase I hear over and over again from women: "I feel like I don't have a partner."
I asked Anne to spell out what more partnering might look like. She said, "I shouldn't have to tell him what to do!" Then I asked if she could think of any ways to help him rise to the occasion. "But that's just the point," she said. "Why do I need to take responsibility for Ted's behavior? I spent years in therapy learning how not to do that. Are you kidding?"
"Well---" I said,
She said, "I am not going back to that codependent stuff. Why should I make his problem my concern?"
"Because you love him?"
"Right," she snorted.
"Okay, then. Because you live with him. You have to deal with him."
She shook her head.
"I don't know Anne," I said. "I didn't pick him. You did."
Anne's refusal to give her husband direction came from an understandable and healthy impulse to stop taking care of him. But there's a difference between babying someone and helping him out. Anne's new stance was rooted in the same old underlying assumption as the most traditional fairy-tale vision of happily ever after -- a good husband should have to be told what I want.
"I'm sorry, " I said. "But Cinderella is dead and Prince Charming most likely just got out of rehab. If you're going to get your needs met, you're going to have to state them effectively."
I believe the quality we bring to relationships with friends and co-workers but leave on the front steps at home is thoughtfulness. I don't mean remembering birthdays. I mean reining in your annoyance when you know someone's going through a tough time, or giving the other person the benefit of the doubt, or saying, "Let's figure out a solution together."
Spontaneity is great for positive emotions, but handling life's challenges takes care and skill. Contrary to the idea that we shouldn't have to be so calculating with our mates, we need to be even more conscious, more on our toes, because no one pushes our hot buttons better or more often.
In the Relationship Skills Workshop, Anne laid the blame for her bad behavior squarely at the feet of her partner. She admitted to yelling, calling Ted selfish and uncaring, and even throwing things -- but only, she said because he was so difficult. Hers wasn't the only destructive response to conflict I've seen in my practice. Another woman might have blamed herself; someone else would have withdrawn from Ted, or tried to "fix" him.
As we all do, Anne brought her characteristic reaction to difficulty into the marriage with her. She could have married Mahatma Ghandi, and sooner or later the plates would have flown.
Anne's default setting, what I call first consciousness, is rage. But with a little coaching, she could develop an inner voice that would help her choose a more constructive response. She could take a moment -- the time it takes to draw a breath -- to practice using second consciousness, a learned, adult way to react.
"Guys are enormously skilled at dealing with a woman having a fit," I said. "The duck under the wave, let the storm pass, then go on doing whatever they want. What guys are not used to is moderate firmness that doesn't back off."
PART 3: DID ANNE & TED LEARN THEIR LESSON? Find out in Part 3 on Thursday, October 18. We invite you to comment or feedback on this posting.
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