Do You Really Want to Know?

Sometimes here's what happens when couples talk to each other.

Woman: Why do you love me?
Man: I don't know. I just do.
Woman: No really, I want to know. Why do you love me?
Man: You're a good mother.
Woman: Seriously? Really? You love me because I am good mother?
Man: Yeah, why?
Woman: That's not an answer. Why do you love me?
Man: Well, because you're you.
Woman: What about me?
Man: I like being with you.
Woman: That's not even about me. It's about you. And you don't even sound sure. You can't even tell me why you love me.

Or it goes like this:
Woman: Why don't you come home for lunch more often? You have time to go out with the guys but won't come home to have lunch with me.
Man: We just go grab a quick bite, and we talk shop.
Woman: Well, you could come home for a quick bite and talk to me.
Man: (silence)
Woman: Tell me, really. Why don't you come home for lunch more?
Man: Do you really want to know?
Woman: I am asking you aren't I? You won't even be straight with me about a simple question. Man: Okay, well...

Or:

Man: You look so down all the time.
Woman: What are you talking about?
Man: You never want to do anything or go anywhere. Is something wrong?
Woman: Well, since you asked. I don't like going out with you when you drink.
Man: I don't drink that much...

So the answers vary of course. And the conversations can go either way. They can take a turn for the good, the connective, the loving. Or they can take a turn for the worse and lead to a disconnect, a distance, an argument. Usually when a woman starts asking her man about why he loves her, or why he does not come home more, or why he is with her, she is looking for an emotional connection. She is looking for some kind of real affirmation of their love, their commitment, their feeling for each other. Sometimes, it means she is angry with him for some reason and does not know how to, or want to, or is afraid to come out and say it outright. Men too are looking to keep things connected, though sometimes with slightly different goals.

The thing is, there usually are good answers and good outcomes to the above conversations but sometimes partners don't really know, on the spot, how to answer, or what their partner is actually looking for or needs. Or how to cultivate a good dialogue. Also, sometimes the answer is not exactly what the asker wants to hear. Sometimes men will say, "well, I don't come home for lunch because when I do, you talk to me about all the things I do wrong, or give me your list of things I need to fix in the house." Or a wife (or husband) will say "well, when you do drink when we go out, it takes away something from the evening. " Sometimes when we ask, we may hear something we may not want to hear, may not like, or may not agree with. Even if perhaps, our partner is saying something true, or is telling us what is in the way of closeness or problem resolution. How we respond can make all the difference in finding out what our partner's perception is.

Sometimes we hesitate to say the truth because we are afraid that if we do, we will hurt our partner's feelings, or trigger rage, or criticism, or defensiveness. It's not always clear what the best answer is, or what answer will be the most conducive to creating closeness or working out real issues.. Sometimes couples have to help each find the right words, uncover our motives and be willing to hear the answers, even if they see it differently or want a different result. If we really want to know the answers to our questions, we have to be willing to hear the answers with respect and curiosity, even when feelings and wishes run high, even when we may not agree, and even when we may have to take a look at our own role in things.

Is Being Understood Overrated?

It depends.

It is so basically human to need to be understood. And so connective to be understood. But sometimes in seeking to be understood, we may do ourselves a disservice. I think this happens when the quest for understanding hinders our relationships or becomes the foundation on which we believe our self worth rests.

If we are excessively seeking understanding from others, why? And what are the origins of such a search? What are our motives? What are the outcomes? Do we think that if someone, particularly someone who has hurt us, or on whom we depend or love understands us better, that they will change? Perhaps if they just understood, they would do what we need, or stop doing what hurts us. (Sometimes they do!)

It's not always a given though. In here, in the therapy room, being understood, understanding yourself and others is certainly on the agenda. It does help bring relief, new ideas and a better way of living and being. But excessive understanding seeking can also be detrimental. Not everyone can understand us, and even if they do, this may not be enough for them to change. And understanding does not always mean agreeing. Sometimes, we may have to learn to live with someone even when they don't understand. Doing so might even bring a relief of its own, freeing us from pursuing something that we think will give us relief, when in fact, the relief can come from our own willingness to not have to be understood.

One woman I know had a life pattern of pursuing understanding from people. She desperately wanted people to understand her feelings and intentions as well as their own behavior and how it effected her. If they didn't, she felt deep despair, frustration and helplessness. Sometimes she persued being understood to the point where people around her often felt criticized, bothered, or pressured. In fact she herself recognized that she was often insistent with a tendency to over explain herself, argue her point or demand time to be heard. This was often was off-putting to those around her.

In talking about it for a while, she recalled a memory of being yelled at as a child by her parents for an invasion of ants in her bedroom. She told me that she was often yelled at as a child for things that she did not do or cause. Ants were common where she lived and they often invaded houses. She did not leave food or put signs up inviting them in. If only her parents understood this, she reasoned, they would not yell at her or blame her. Once we understood how she had been effected by not being understood as a child, we had some new light on her intense pursuit of being understood as an adult. In this way, being understood and understanding herself, did bring relief. She also came to understand the effect her pursuit of being understood had on others. It did not often have the desired effect.


She is less insistent with others now and somehow, has an easier time in her relationships. She has come to believe that others do not have to always understand her in order for her to feel good about herself or for her to know she is worthy, okay and correct.

It's an easier life she tells me now. And interestingly enough, she feels more understood.

Top Five Starting Places

So people often ask me if it's possible to save their marriage or renew it. Or to feel better, to find love, to advance or start a career. When things seem broken or dark, hope hides. Sometimes people walk in the door hurt, angry, frustrated, in despair. Not everyone. Folks come in for all sorts of reasons. There is no shortage of good topics when it comes to the self. But people want to know if there is hope. They want to know if marriages can be repaired, if trust can be restored, if love can be dug out from under anger, hurt, betrayal. They want to know if they even want that. They want to know if emotional gaps can be bridged, if sex lives can be reinvented, if old angers can be let go of, and old relationships can be healed.

I can't profess to know of course. But I can tell you that I've seen it. I can tell you that I have experienced it. I can tell you that yes, many things are possible. How it happens that things can go from bad to better, from pain to pleasure, from old to renewed, I'm not sure exactly (though there are many good theories and practices that apply). But if I had to name my top five starting points for bringing about healing, relief and renewal, I'd say they are these, in no particular order and without the theory for now:

~Willingness to talk: about yourself, your wishes, your feelings, your thoughts. Even if you don't know exactly what they are or where they will lead. Even if you are scared, skeptical, annoyed or angry.

~Willingness to look at yourself, your history, your patterns, your reactions. Gently and at whatever pace seems to work best. This too can be discovered over time.

~Understanding that the above does not always come as fast or as easily as we might like but it's worth a continued effort to keep at it. And sometimes slower is better.

~Understanding that you don't have to know exactly what you want or need before you begin.

~Understanding that most of what we do, conscious or unconscious is usually how we survive, and in that context our defenses that no longer serve us well - or that do still - are not comments on our self worth but just our humanity.

Compassion Never Grows Old

A few weeks ago I came across an article about Hedda Bolgar, a 102 year old psychotherapist who is still seeing clients, lecturing and studying the unconscious mind. Bolgar says that she is

"eternally fascinated by the unconscious, where she says pesky problems hide." She says that she loves to listen, to understand, even when people are not saying, or, I infer, don't exactly know, what it is that is bothering them, shaping them, effecting them. I am moved by this, by how it is that after decades of listening to emotional pain, to trauma, to confusing character issues, Hedda Bolgar is, in fact, glowing.

Instead of presenting to the world a cynical view of human nature, of the stubbornness of many psychological issues, Bolgar seems to exude a generosity of spirit and hope. That we do have an unconscious mind, that it is worthy of study, that much of what pains or troubles us, or gets in the way of our growth and progress can be discovered and healed through talking. I continue to like the message that we can take a look at ourselves without doing it harshly. That being understood and allowing all our feelings can open doors to better ways of feeling, coping and living.

The ability to talk, to consider new ideas, points of view, to study ourselves without lashing out at ourselves or others, to release our aggression in productive and not impulsively hurtful ways are not only hallmarks of resiliency and maturity, but outcomes of good therapy. In our quest to live and be better, I think Hedda Bolgar's message of consistency, dedication to the craft and compassion is a strong one.

In the age of the Internet and texting where people can anonymously discharge feelings, make connections without having to show up, can weigh in and click off, Bolgar reminds me of the staying power that is possible. And that being with ourselves, and with others in real time has endless value. And that compassion never grows old. We can study our actions, our motives, our histories, our psyches with a curious and gentle eye. And we can study those of others with the same compassion, even if we are hurt, or lost or frustrated or don't agree.

Our stories are worth telling, worth hearing and we need not know exactly where we are headed in order to start.

Forget It - I've Got Nothing (Getting Underneath Uninspired)

Here's how it goes sometimes in marriages, in our relationship with ourselves, with others, at work: Something just feels flat. We cannot (only) chalk it up to depression, or anger or even massive disappointment. So what then? What is going on with us - inside of us - when we feel utterly uninspired? Forget "lack of motivation," since that doesn't explain it exactly either. When asked we could say, sure, yes, I love my spouse - or the arrangement works for me somehow, therefor I am motivated to stay married. Or I am motivated to go to work because I need the money, or I care about the project in general. Or I care about my own well being, so I keep on keeping on.

Motivation can fall into the background, though it does keep us going through the motions of our lives and our relationships. What comes up in therapy a lot, though, is something deeper, something a bit more spiritual: Inspiration (or lack of it). A feeling of yearning combined with vision, passion. Being awake to deeper desires, callings, a sense of mission and meaning, some urgency even. It is this feeling that seems to get sucked out in the undertow of routine life. And many people give up trying to find it. "I've got nothing," is what they tell me, or "Forget it," which is almost always a catch all meaning "I feel way too frustrated, or I'll never be understood," or "It will take too much effort," "It won't be fast enough," or "Sometimes I really think I hate myself."

Does venting help? Sure I think it does. It feels good to get it out, to calm the anxiety, to get empathy, to have your feelings, even hopelessness and self hate resonate with someone. It helps unblock the road to inspiration, when you think you've got none.

We get caught up in what seems to be the drudgery of the same old same old. And we think that in order to become inspired, or re inspired, that things will have to be new. A new job, a new relationship, a new place. (And that can help, sure, for a time). We can't always keep changing up what we have or make things that are not new become new, but we can be open to making what we have good, or at least better. And to finding inspiration. We can be open to the idea that just because we can't make something new, does not mean that we cannot make it good - really good. Just because we think we are stuck in the same old same old does not mean we actually are. We can refuse to try, to talk, to open the door, or we can be willing. Yes, it may take a little while to get there, to find the inspiration. We may have to dig through some anger, some old stuff, find out why we are asleep in certain ways. We may need to be willing to not chalk it all up to hormones or depression or circumstance and take a different look. Is it worth it? I think so.

Were these said to you as a kid? Do you say them to your kids?

And if so, do you believe them? What kind of impact did they have? Do they have? Of course each of us receives messages differently, but it's always curious to me how much of an impact words and phrases do actually impact us. It may not in fact be true that sticks and stones may break our bones but words will never hurt us.

So here are a few phrases that many folks have heard as they were growing up:

"You made your bed...."

"You are not working up to the best of your ability."



"You can accomplish anything you set your mind to."

"You should have known better."

"You should be ashamed of yourself."



"Sorry doesn't cut it."

"You'll get what's coming to you."

"Chin up." or "Man up." or "Suck it up."

"Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite."

What to they mean? How to they play in our heads? Do we really have control over letting bed bugs bite? Does "chin up" mean we should not feel sad when we are sad? Should we pretend things don't hurt? Ignore our feelings? Will we really get what is coming to us? Does this mean that we deserve to be punished? That we should be frightened or worried? That mistakes are not allowed? Is saying we are sorry not enough? Ever?

When, and for what, should we really be ashamed of ourselves? And at what age should we know better? How can we know what we don't know? How much can children know anyway?

Can we really accomplish anything we set our minds to? If we can't, then what? Does this mean we are suppose to have control over things so long as we try? How do we know what the best of our ability is, actually? What if we don't want or need to work up to the best of it? Are we failing if we don't? How hard should we try? And what about that bed we made? Again, does this mean we are stuck with what we have? That if we've made a mistake we have no choices. That taking responsibility for our actions means we merit no empathy for errors or mess ups. Or no help getting to a better place?

I think that in the gentle study of human behavior, as we talk through our frustrations and fears, our hopes and longings, it helps to take a look at the words we have heard, to see what runs through our minds. It's a small part of the puzzle of our lives, but worth a look.

"I Should be Grateful...?"

Sometimes when someone is sitting here in the office talking about what's on their mind, talking about what's bothering them, they will stop and say, "I suppose I should be grateful, it could be worse." This always reminds me somehow of having to finish all the food on our plates because people are starving elsewhere in the world.

I think the statement raises some very good questions, such as where do gratitude and a true sense of what we "yes" have fit in with emotional pain and feelings of discontent in our lives? And can we be both grateful and unhappy at the same time? Can we appreciate our blessings and still honor our longings? And why is it that we often feel the urge to temper our feelings? Do we think we should not feel them?

I find these questions come up in the context of marital counseling as well. How do we manage to be appreciative of our partners while we are furious, or frustrated or disappointed with them as well? And also when we talk about our parents. Can we feel our difficult feelings toward them and appreciate the positives too?

How do we reconcile our values with our feelings?

I think the answers are individual of course, depending on our own unique character and circumstance, though there may be some common truths. While some of us are more comfortable feeling how we feel, letting our feelings rise and fall and be what they will, others are more hesitant. We get besieged by shame, or guilt or hopelessness, or the idea that perhaps we are not suppose to feel the way we do, or that there really cannot be any good outcome, or that since there are others who have it worse, our feelings should not be what they are. Except that they are. I have not found that denying our feelings solves much of anything. We can't always get relief as quickly as we might like, but keeping ourselves in the dark does not usually offer us good results. Neither does attacking our selves for the feelings we have. Nor does misusing gratitude.

That being said, I think that we can employ gratitude to help us with emotional pain without using it to invalidate our feelings. It does help to count our blessings, from the simple to the sublime. We can breathe clean air; We can see fall foliage; we can walk; even the basics, that are not so basic to everyone, can be starting points when we are in emotional pain; gratitude can certainly help put things in proper perspective and give us context. It can help us to feel better and see things differently.

But emotional pain is still pain. We still feel what we feel, and sidestepping feelings in the name of gratitude or using gratitude to avoid what is true for us usually just stalls our progress. So here's where the talking can help. We can let all our thoughts and feelings breathe; we can tend to them, see what they mean to us and make forward movement from there. The trouble, I think, is not feeling how we feel so much as it is attacking ourselves for feeling how we feel and then acting on the attack without having given ourselves a talking chance.