Self-Responsible Self-Revelation

The Phoenix Philosophy - part 10

For the next several weeks, I'm going to pull quotes from Passionate Marriage, and use the quotes as a means of discussing the idea of healthy inter-relationship.

For some time now, I've been working with a couple that had really gotten themselves off track. They'd "lived" in a place of verbal violence since the beginning of their relationship and, just before they came in, there'd been a physical episode too. This had sufficiently "scared" both of them that they separated (OK, that was court ordered, but both agreed) and both entered therapy individually. We worked in this configuration for a while, then shifted, about three months ago, to couple therapy.

There has been nothing "easy" or "automatic" about the therapeutic process. The detritus of the years had accumulated to megalithic proportions. Initially, they thought they'd have to shovel through all the old stuff before they could ever get to the "new stuff."

One of the toughest "sells," both in therapy and in life, is this: there is no need, nor is there any way, to resolve the issues of the past. There is not a hope in hell that water, once under the bridge, can be pushed back upstream and filtered until clean. There is letting it go, or letting it own you. Letting go of the past is neither a pleasant nor an easy choice.

This couple, in "old talk mode," can loop back 10 years in 30 seconds. They'll be discussing something that is currently happening, and poof, back they go, in stages, reminding their partner of past sins. It's sort of "cute," as they are polite enough to take turns. As opposed to the harridan approach, where one person yells and screams and jumps up and down for the full 30 minutes, while the partner gets to watch. Neither is very productive.

I've taken to cutting them off mid-sentence, asking them to return to the present moment. I ask each of them to reflect on their own "stuff." I ask them to listen to their partner - truly listen - as opposed to deflecting or correcting what the partner is saying. In other words, part of growing up is being able to listen to and absorb the "truth" of what is being said to me, while not "taking it personally."

Over the course of the last two sessions, I've encouraged each of them to pick a current topic and to "just talk about it." I've then helped the partner to ask questions designed to extract more and more information and feeling. When they slide off topic, (god, spare me another rant about a misspent youth or how lousy their parenting was - as I said, this is about growing up,) I raise my hand and ask them to go back to the topic at hand. Initially frustrating, this discipline is essential.

What they are trying to learn here is self-validation. Often, relationships are used (or perhaps better, the people we are in relationship with are used) to validate us. Even picking a fight with someone is a way of validating. The poorly differentiated person is saying, "At least, when you fight with me, I know you care and are still there for me to use." It also works in the opposite direction. Poorly differentiated people often possess inflated views of themselves. They say, "See! Look how together I am! (sly look) Don't you think? (Please validate me.)"

As David Schnarch puts it, in Passionate Marriage: "Arguing can be a way of checking that the other person is still there… When we have little differentiation, our identity is constructed out of what's called a reflected sense of self. We need continued contact, validation and consensus (or disagreement) from others… We develop a contingent identity based on a "self-in-relationship." Because our identity depends on the relationship, we may demand that our partner doesn't change so that our identity won't either. " pg. 59

Often, within a relationship, there is this weird thing going on. One or both parties are saying, simultaneously, "Here is the way I am. You'll just have to accept me this way." At the same time, they add, "And here are all the things about you that need changing. You'll change, if you love me." All of this is happening for two reasons.

First, the person doesn't want to have to do the hard work of growing up. They therefore indicate that the loving action is to accept them as they are.

Second, the person expects that others should be willing to do the hard work of changing, again to demonstrate their "love."

I find it hard to believe that anyone ever gets away with this crap, but it's painfully common.

Any time I hear a demand (or a manipulation) for external validation, then, I know the person is an infant in search of stasis.

The way out, or one way out, is through the process of simultaneous self-revelation and self-reflection. In the case of my couple, one takes the opportunity to express or vent what, say, he is feeling and thinking about a current situation. His situation impacts on her from the perspective of their shared life. Now, in the past, she'd hear what he was saying and think she had to defend herself. She'd be jumping in, disagreeing, correcting or picking a fight to get him to stop. With discipline, she is learning to ask him to continue, to dig deep, to tell more of what he knows.

What happens is, without the challenges and provocations, he tells his story as he chooses to, and notices some tears, a lot of sadness, and a feeling of release - doneness. On "her side of the couch," her job is to self-soothe and self-validate.

What this means, in a nutshell, is that she reminds herself that she is not who he thinks she is, and that her "self" will not disappear if he is not focussing on it. Her discipline, her "being an adult" is expressed in her willingness to do nothing that will bring the attention back to herself.

When he finishes, it's her turn to unpack her feelings and thoughts, in the moment. It is emphatically not the point to be clever, trot out Communication Theory 101, quote a book she just read, or demand that he somehow validate her. She, in other words, does what he just did. She looks deeply at herself. In that process, she may begin to own her own "stuff" -- the things she does to remain a child.

I remember working with a couple a few years ago- she'd been to Phase 1, he to a Come Alive. She also was working on a degree in counselling. (She never worked as a therapist. Upon graduating she discovered, to her horror, that she'd be required to "work all the time with people with problems." But I digress.) No matter what he did, she'd correct him.

We were in a workshop I was leading. They were practicing breathing. He was breathing, she was coaching. I wandered over. He was doing OK, for a baby breather. She was sobbing. I asked her what she was troubling herself about. "He's not doing it right! I tell him and tell him!" Later, as clients, this refrain would repeat. He'd go deep (for him) and reflect on his life. She'd take on the face of someone who was listening intently. He'd stop. She'd immediately tell him what he did wrong, or she'd say, "You don't understand how much you hurt me, saying that." He'd immediately move into trying to make her feel better. When she talked, she'd excoriate him - her entire miserable life was his fault, including the part before he showed up.

Because she saw her role as the great, wise therapist, she could stay away from any form of working on herself. They were well and truly enmeshed. Her job was to correct him for making her miserable, and he accepted the role willingly.

Next week, we'll look at the opposite to all of this. Let me say, going back to my original couple example, that what is happening is that each is taking responsibility for his or herself. They are, in Schnarch's language, entering their own "crucible." They are looking deeply into the only game there is - they are looking into themselves. There, they are discovering things they need to work on, and that's hard.

Next week, a look at life in the crucible.