Communication is the key
- Thread starter M's girl
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I think communication is very important, but so are alot of things honestly. You can spend hours and hours talking about something that really just isn't going to change. The other side of communication imho is the ability to learn why the person is acting the way they are and is it really something you can't handle not changing. Somethings are changable and others aren't so much because of quite a few reason. Either its just not something they actively think about regularily and it's "habit". Something like a personality trait I think it is much harder to change for example I my mind.
bobsgirl
Jiggly
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M's girl said:What I'm about to say here does not mean that I don't believe in communication as the key to a healthy relationship. I have had a few long term relationships and in some the communication was okay, while in others is lacked.
In my current relationship with M, communication could not be better most of the time, but I have found there is a downside to that. Because I have come to believe that if you can talk about everything, that you can solve everything.
The thing is.... after we have discussed an issue (sometimes for hours and hours), most of the time we reach some sort of 'agreement'. Or at least it looks as if it's crystal clear what we both think and want and need. We promise each other 'things' and such and then we go back to making the same mistakes again. Why is that?
I probably should tell you all a lot more before you can analyze this for us per se, but I would like you to ask me questions you would need to know to answer. Of course more general statements are welcome too here... it does not have to be all about M and me.
So, please, discuss?
I wish I knew why it happens, MG. That statement about sums up a lot of the angst in my marriage. And I'm not just picking on B. It goes both ways.
I'm not sure if it's laziness or what. I suspect that's part of it. It takes a lot of work to keep a promise to do better or be better at certain things.
LadyJeanne
deluded
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Through communication we seek understanding. We want our views and needs to be understood, and we want to understand our partners'.
But that's just the starting point, right? Then some action is required. And it's hard to act - especially if it requires one or the other or both to change their natural behavior. Why? Because it's hard to think outside ourselves and our needs and views. You have to get to the point where you truly internalize and believe that your partner's needs are also your own needs in order for the couple to be strongest.
You have to get to the point where you truly buy into the team concept: on a team, each person plays their position and plays for the team to win. Sometimes that requires making sacrifices - hitting a ball that's going to get you thrown out, but brings the other guy in for the home run.
Or, if baseball isn't your thing, consider mountain climbing. You're tied together with a rope. Neither one of you is going to reach the top if the other doesn't. Both of you have to work hard and make the climb together. Neither of you can go off in another direction - you have to agree which way to go and how you're going to get there and what steps you're going to take and then you have to stick to the plan. Sometimes, one of you has to help the other when they slip. Sometimes, one of you has to be stronger. Sometimes, one of you has to work harder. It's ok, though, because you know that if you run into trouble, the other one is there and won't let you fall.
Or to take it down to kindergarden - it's the buddy system. You hold hands so neither of you gets lost.
My parents have been married almost 40 years. I can't honestly say that communication is their forte. We're a loud, ethnic family and arguments and shouting abound. They don't always agree or see eye to eye. However, I can say they have generally been unified in their overall goals for their marriage and what they want out of their lives. So, even though they've disagreed and one or the other wasn't getting what they wanted at a particular time, they believed they were playing to win the same prize and sometimes had to just shut up and take it and do the hard work in order to get there.
But that's just the starting point, right? Then some action is required. And it's hard to act - especially if it requires one or the other or both to change their natural behavior. Why? Because it's hard to think outside ourselves and our needs and views. You have to get to the point where you truly internalize and believe that your partner's needs are also your own needs in order for the couple to be strongest.
You have to get to the point where you truly buy into the team concept: on a team, each person plays their position and plays for the team to win. Sometimes that requires making sacrifices - hitting a ball that's going to get you thrown out, but brings the other guy in for the home run.
Or, if baseball isn't your thing, consider mountain climbing. You're tied together with a rope. Neither one of you is going to reach the top if the other doesn't. Both of you have to work hard and make the climb together. Neither of you can go off in another direction - you have to agree which way to go and how you're going to get there and what steps you're going to take and then you have to stick to the plan. Sometimes, one of you has to help the other when they slip. Sometimes, one of you has to be stronger. Sometimes, one of you has to work harder. It's ok, though, because you know that if you run into trouble, the other one is there and won't let you fall.
Or to take it down to kindergarden - it's the buddy system. You hold hands so neither of you gets lost.
My parents have been married almost 40 years. I can't honestly say that communication is their forte. We're a loud, ethnic family and arguments and shouting abound. They don't always agree or see eye to eye. However, I can say they have generally been unified in their overall goals for their marriage and what they want out of their lives. So, even though they've disagreed and one or the other wasn't getting what they wanted at a particular time, they believed they were playing to win the same prize and sometimes had to just shut up and take it and do the hard work in order to get there.
Mazuri
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I think that, while communication is very important, it must be accompanied by a willingness to compromise or meet in the middle. Just because I can get my point across to him and he to me doesn't mean it will resolve anything if we refuse to budge from where we stand. As long as there is communication, respect for each others' opinions and a willingness to meet in the middle, then things can settle into a comfortable niche.
LadyJeanne
deluded
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What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage
By AMY SUTHERLAND
Published: June 25, 2006
New York Times
AS I wash dishes at the kitchen sink, my husband paces behind me, irritated. "Have you seen my keys?" he snarls, then huffs out a loud sigh and stomps from the room with our dog, Dixie, at his heels, anxious over her favorite human's upset.
In the past I would have been right behind Dixie. I would have turned off the faucet and joined the hunt while trying to soothe my husband with bromides like, "Don't worry, they'll turn up." But that only made him angrier, and a simple case of missing keys soon would become a full-blown angst-ridden drama starring the two of us and our poor nervous dog.
Now, I focus on the wet dish in my hands. I don't turn around. I don't say a word. I'm using a technique I learned from a dolphin trainer.
I love my husband. He's well read, adventurous and does a hysterical rendition of a northern Vermont accent that still cracks me up after 12 years of marriage.
But he also tends to be forgetful, and is often tardy and mercurial. He hovers around me in the kitchen asking if I read this or that piece in The New Yorker when I'm trying to concentrate on the simmering pans. He leaves wadded tissues in his wake. He suffers from serious bouts of spousal deafness but never fails to hear me when I mutter to myself on the other side of the house. "What did you say?" he'll shout.
These minor annoyances are not the stuff of separation and divorce, but in sum they began to dull my love for Scott. I wanted — needed — to nudge him a little closer to perfect, to make him into a mate who might annoy me a little less, who wouldn't keep me waiting at restaurants, a mate who would be easier to love.
So, like many wives before me, I ignored a library of advice books and set about improving him. By nagging, of course, which only made his behavior worse: he'd drive faster instead of slower; shave less frequently, not more; and leave his reeking bike garb on the bedroom floor longer than ever.
We went to a counselor to smooth the edges off our marriage. She didn't understand what we were doing there and complimented us repeatedly on how well we communicated. I gave up. I guessed she was right — our union was better than most — and resigned myself to stretches of slow-boil resentment and occasional sarcasm.
Then something magical happened. For a book I was writing about a school for exotic animal trainers, I started commuting from Maine to California, where I spent my days watching students do the seemingly impossible: teaching hyenas to pirouette on command, cougars to offer their paws for a nail clipping, and baboons to skateboard.
I listened, rapt, as professional trainers explained how they taught dolphins to flip and elephants to paint. Eventually it hit me that the same techniques might work on that stubborn but lovable species, the American husband.
The central lesson I learned from exotic animal trainers is that I should reward behavior I like and ignore behavior I don't. After all, you don't get a sea lion to balance a ball on the end of its nose by nagging. The same goes for the American husband.
Back in Maine, I began thanking Scott if he threw one dirty shirt into the hamper. If he threw in two, I'd kiss him. Meanwhile, I would step over any soiled clothes on the floor without one sharp word, though I did sometimes kick them under the bed. But as he basked in my appreciation, the piles became smaller.
I was using what trainers call "approximations," rewarding the small steps toward learning a whole new behavior. You can't expect a baboon to learn to flip on command in one session, just as you can't expect an American husband to begin regularly picking up his dirty socks by praising him once for picking up a single sock. With the baboon you first reward a hop, then a bigger hop, then an even bigger hop. With Scott the husband, I began to praise every small act every time: if he drove just a mile an hour slower, tossed one pair of shorts into the hamper, or was on time for anything.
I also began to analyze my husband the way a trainer considers an exotic animal. Enlightened trainers learn all they can about a species, from anatomy to social structure, to understand how it thinks, what it likes and dislikes, what comes easily to it and what doesn't. For example, an elephant is a herd animal, so it responds to hierarchy. It cannot jump, but can stand on its head. It is a vegetarian.
The exotic animal known as Scott is a loner, but an alpha male. So hierarchy matters, but being in a group doesn't so much. He has the balance of a gymnast, but moves slowly, especially when getting dressed. Skiing comes naturally, but being on time does not. He's an omnivore, and what a trainer would call food-driven.
Once I started thinking this way, I couldn't stop. At the school in California, I'd be scribbling notes on how to walk an emu or have a wolf accept you as a pack member, but I'd be thinking, "I can't wait to try this on Scott."
On a field trip with the students, I listened to a professional trainer describe how he had taught African crested cranes to stop landing on his head and shoulders. He did this by training the leggy birds to land on mats on the ground. This, he explained, is what is called an "incompatible behavior," a simple but brilliant concept.
Rather than teach the cranes to stop landing on him, the trainer taught the birds something else, a behavior that would make the undesirable behavior impossible. The birds couldn't alight on the mats and his head simultaneously.
At home, I came up with incompatible behaviors for Scott to keep him from crowding me while I cooked. To lure him away from the stove, I piled up parsley for him to chop or cheese for him to grate at the other end of the kitchen island. Or I'd set out a bowl of chips and salsa across the room. Soon I'd done it: no more Scott hovering around me while I cooked.
I followed the students to SeaWorld San Diego, where a dolphin trainer introduced me to least reinforcing syndrome (L. R. S.). When a dolphin does something wrong, the trainer doesn't respond in any way. He stands still for a few beats, careful not to look at the dolphin, and then returns to work. The idea is that any response, positive or negative, fuels a behavior. If a behavior provokes no response, it typically dies away.
In the margins of my notes I wrote, "Try on Scott!"
It was only a matter of time before he was again tearing around the house searching for his keys, at which point I said nothing and kept at what I was doing. It took a lot of discipline to maintain my calm, but results were immediate and stunning. His temper fell far shy of its usual pitch and then waned like a fast-moving storm. I felt as if I should throw him a mackerel.
Now he's at it again; I hear him banging a closet door shut, rustling through papers on a chest in the front hall and thumping upstairs. At the sink, I hold steady. Then, sure enough, all goes quiet. A moment later, he walks into the kitchen, keys in hand, and says calmly, "Found them."
Without turning, I call out, "Great, see you later."
Off he goes with our much-calmed pup.
After two years of exotic animal training, my marriage is far smoother, my husband much easier to love. I used to take his faults personally; his dirty clothes on the floor were an affront, a symbol of how he didn't care enough about me. But thinking of my husband as an exotic species gave me the distance I needed to consider our differences more objectively.
I adopted the trainers' motto: "It's never the animal's fault." When my training attempts failed, I didn't blame Scott. Rather, I brainstormed new strategies, thought up more incompatible behaviors and used smaller approximations. I dissected my own behavior, considered how my actions might inadvertently fuel his. I also accepted that some behaviors were too entrenched, too instinctive to train away. You can't stop a badger from digging, and you can't stop my husband from losing his wallet and keys.
PROFESSIONALS talk of animals that understand training so well they eventually use it back on the trainer. My animal did the same. When the training techniques worked so beautifully, I couldn't resist telling my husband what I was up to. He wasn't offended, just amused. As I explained the techniques and terminology, he soaked it up. Far more than I realized.
Last fall, firmly in middle age, I learned that I needed braces. They were not only humiliating, but also excruciating. For weeks my gums, teeth, jaw and sinuses throbbed. I complained frequently and loudly. Scott assured me that I would become used to all the metal in my mouth. I did not.
One morning, as I launched into yet another tirade about how uncomfortable I was, Scott just looked at me blankly. He didn't say a word or acknowledge my rant in any way, not even with a nod.
I quickly ran out of steam and started to walk away. Then I realized what was happening, and I turned and asked, "Are you giving me an L. R. S.?" Silence. "You are, aren't you?"
He finally smiled, but his L. R. S. has already done the trick. He'd begun to train me, the American wife.
By AMY SUTHERLAND
Published: June 25, 2006
New York Times
AS I wash dishes at the kitchen sink, my husband paces behind me, irritated. "Have you seen my keys?" he snarls, then huffs out a loud sigh and stomps from the room with our dog, Dixie, at his heels, anxious over her favorite human's upset.
In the past I would have been right behind Dixie. I would have turned off the faucet and joined the hunt while trying to soothe my husband with bromides like, "Don't worry, they'll turn up." But that only made him angrier, and a simple case of missing keys soon would become a full-blown angst-ridden drama starring the two of us and our poor nervous dog.
Now, I focus on the wet dish in my hands. I don't turn around. I don't say a word. I'm using a technique I learned from a dolphin trainer.
I love my husband. He's well read, adventurous and does a hysterical rendition of a northern Vermont accent that still cracks me up after 12 years of marriage.
But he also tends to be forgetful, and is often tardy and mercurial. He hovers around me in the kitchen asking if I read this or that piece in The New Yorker when I'm trying to concentrate on the simmering pans. He leaves wadded tissues in his wake. He suffers from serious bouts of spousal deafness but never fails to hear me when I mutter to myself on the other side of the house. "What did you say?" he'll shout.
These minor annoyances are not the stuff of separation and divorce, but in sum they began to dull my love for Scott. I wanted — needed — to nudge him a little closer to perfect, to make him into a mate who might annoy me a little less, who wouldn't keep me waiting at restaurants, a mate who would be easier to love.
So, like many wives before me, I ignored a library of advice books and set about improving him. By nagging, of course, which only made his behavior worse: he'd drive faster instead of slower; shave less frequently, not more; and leave his reeking bike garb on the bedroom floor longer than ever.
We went to a counselor to smooth the edges off our marriage. She didn't understand what we were doing there and complimented us repeatedly on how well we communicated. I gave up. I guessed she was right — our union was better than most — and resigned myself to stretches of slow-boil resentment and occasional sarcasm.
Then something magical happened. For a book I was writing about a school for exotic animal trainers, I started commuting from Maine to California, where I spent my days watching students do the seemingly impossible: teaching hyenas to pirouette on command, cougars to offer their paws for a nail clipping, and baboons to skateboard.
I listened, rapt, as professional trainers explained how they taught dolphins to flip and elephants to paint. Eventually it hit me that the same techniques might work on that stubborn but lovable species, the American husband.
The central lesson I learned from exotic animal trainers is that I should reward behavior I like and ignore behavior I don't. After all, you don't get a sea lion to balance a ball on the end of its nose by nagging. The same goes for the American husband.
Back in Maine, I began thanking Scott if he threw one dirty shirt into the hamper. If he threw in two, I'd kiss him. Meanwhile, I would step over any soiled clothes on the floor without one sharp word, though I did sometimes kick them under the bed. But as he basked in my appreciation, the piles became smaller.
I was using what trainers call "approximations," rewarding the small steps toward learning a whole new behavior. You can't expect a baboon to learn to flip on command in one session, just as you can't expect an American husband to begin regularly picking up his dirty socks by praising him once for picking up a single sock. With the baboon you first reward a hop, then a bigger hop, then an even bigger hop. With Scott the husband, I began to praise every small act every time: if he drove just a mile an hour slower, tossed one pair of shorts into the hamper, or was on time for anything.
I also began to analyze my husband the way a trainer considers an exotic animal. Enlightened trainers learn all they can about a species, from anatomy to social structure, to understand how it thinks, what it likes and dislikes, what comes easily to it and what doesn't. For example, an elephant is a herd animal, so it responds to hierarchy. It cannot jump, but can stand on its head. It is a vegetarian.
The exotic animal known as Scott is a loner, but an alpha male. So hierarchy matters, but being in a group doesn't so much. He has the balance of a gymnast, but moves slowly, especially when getting dressed. Skiing comes naturally, but being on time does not. He's an omnivore, and what a trainer would call food-driven.
Once I started thinking this way, I couldn't stop. At the school in California, I'd be scribbling notes on how to walk an emu or have a wolf accept you as a pack member, but I'd be thinking, "I can't wait to try this on Scott."
On a field trip with the students, I listened to a professional trainer describe how he had taught African crested cranes to stop landing on his head and shoulders. He did this by training the leggy birds to land on mats on the ground. This, he explained, is what is called an "incompatible behavior," a simple but brilliant concept.
Rather than teach the cranes to stop landing on him, the trainer taught the birds something else, a behavior that would make the undesirable behavior impossible. The birds couldn't alight on the mats and his head simultaneously.
At home, I came up with incompatible behaviors for Scott to keep him from crowding me while I cooked. To lure him away from the stove, I piled up parsley for him to chop or cheese for him to grate at the other end of the kitchen island. Or I'd set out a bowl of chips and salsa across the room. Soon I'd done it: no more Scott hovering around me while I cooked.
I followed the students to SeaWorld San Diego, where a dolphin trainer introduced me to least reinforcing syndrome (L. R. S.). When a dolphin does something wrong, the trainer doesn't respond in any way. He stands still for a few beats, careful not to look at the dolphin, and then returns to work. The idea is that any response, positive or negative, fuels a behavior. If a behavior provokes no response, it typically dies away.
In the margins of my notes I wrote, "Try on Scott!"
It was only a matter of time before he was again tearing around the house searching for his keys, at which point I said nothing and kept at what I was doing. It took a lot of discipline to maintain my calm, but results were immediate and stunning. His temper fell far shy of its usual pitch and then waned like a fast-moving storm. I felt as if I should throw him a mackerel.
Now he's at it again; I hear him banging a closet door shut, rustling through papers on a chest in the front hall and thumping upstairs. At the sink, I hold steady. Then, sure enough, all goes quiet. A moment later, he walks into the kitchen, keys in hand, and says calmly, "Found them."
Without turning, I call out, "Great, see you later."
Off he goes with our much-calmed pup.
After two years of exotic animal training, my marriage is far smoother, my husband much easier to love. I used to take his faults personally; his dirty clothes on the floor were an affront, a symbol of how he didn't care enough about me. But thinking of my husband as an exotic species gave me the distance I needed to consider our differences more objectively.
I adopted the trainers' motto: "It's never the animal's fault." When my training attempts failed, I didn't blame Scott. Rather, I brainstormed new strategies, thought up more incompatible behaviors and used smaller approximations. I dissected my own behavior, considered how my actions might inadvertently fuel his. I also accepted that some behaviors were too entrenched, too instinctive to train away. You can't stop a badger from digging, and you can't stop my husband from losing his wallet and keys.
PROFESSIONALS talk of animals that understand training so well they eventually use it back on the trainer. My animal did the same. When the training techniques worked so beautifully, I couldn't resist telling my husband what I was up to. He wasn't offended, just amused. As I explained the techniques and terminology, he soaked it up. Far more than I realized.
Last fall, firmly in middle age, I learned that I needed braces. They were not only humiliating, but also excruciating. For weeks my gums, teeth, jaw and sinuses throbbed. I complained frequently and loudly. Scott assured me that I would become used to all the metal in my mouth. I did not.
One morning, as I launched into yet another tirade about how uncomfortable I was, Scott just looked at me blankly. He didn't say a word or acknowledge my rant in any way, not even with a nod.
I quickly ran out of steam and started to walk away. Then I realized what was happening, and I turned and asked, "Are you giving me an L. R. S.?" Silence. "You are, aren't you?"
He finally smiled, but his L. R. S. has already done the trick. He'd begun to train me, the American wife.
LadyJeanne
deluded
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- Jun 25, 2004
- Posts
- 5,885
M's girl said:
It does take effort for someone to whom tuning in doesn't come naturally. Even if you've spent a long time discussing the overall issue in the past, you will need to flash the neon sign at the time it occurs.
"Sweetheart, remember when we talked about my need to have you pay attention to me at certain times? THIS is one of those times."
And then ask him if it's a good time for him to listen to you. If it's not, ask him when he can make time to listen to you. If he will not make the time, then it's not a question of him not realizing...it means he doesn't want to listen and that's a whole other issue.
It's just that I have such a very hard time to understand sometimes why someone - who says he loves me very much - can't bring himself to do the small things that make me utterly happy.
I know (
Am I wrong? Am I overreacting? Am I expecting the impossible?
You're not wrong. It's not impossible, but it is frustrating. Sometimes, it's just a matter of changing habits, or creating new habits. (See story above for tips on training!).
Sometimes, you have to cut your losses and understand that him forgetting does NOT equal him not loving or caring.
Some people express love verbally; some are touchy-feely people. Some people express love by doing little things for the other person. Some people are gift-givers. If your guy expresses himself through affectionate touches and kisses, but can't ever remember to bring you a flower or your favorite ice cream...well, you may have to settle for the touches and buy your own flowers and ice cream.
My SO isn't a verbal guy. If I tried to get him to say "I love you" at the end of every phone conversation - or even once a year! - I'd be sadly disappointed and constantly frustrated. Instead, I see that he's a touch/hug/kiss guy, and a "rewire my stereo guy" and accept that's who he is without feeling frustrated and unloved.
G
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silverwhisper
just this guy, you know?
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sorry i haven't been able to reply until now, MG.
as you've already observed yourself, communication is not the same thing as progress b/c all communication can do is create understanding. LJ was the one who first noted this and she's right, of course. but even so, communication is a two-way street. if he isn't willing to talk, while that's obviously a massive disservice to you, he needs to understand that must change. b/c it seems to me that if you express your concerns and he can't respond meaningfully when you do so, you haven't actually communicated.
and it's got nothing to do w/ how smart he is. people who are smart about some things can be fantastically stupid about others. hell, look at the shenanigans of elected officials some time if you don't believe me. :>
it seems to me that m wound up in a state of learned helplessness vis a vis past relationships by the time you met him and while you've been together for years, those old lessons still haven't been unlearned satisfactorily.
i assume that, b/c he isn't comfortable talking, couples counseling is out of the question?
i'm sorry, MG. i'm afraid i don't really have any insights that would be helpful to you.
ed
as you've already observed yourself, communication is not the same thing as progress b/c all communication can do is create understanding. LJ was the one who first noted this and she's right, of course. but even so, communication is a two-way street. if he isn't willing to talk, while that's obviously a massive disservice to you, he needs to understand that must change. b/c it seems to me that if you express your concerns and he can't respond meaningfully when you do so, you haven't actually communicated.
and it's got nothing to do w/ how smart he is. people who are smart about some things can be fantastically stupid about others. hell, look at the shenanigans of elected officials some time if you don't believe me. :>
it seems to me that m wound up in a state of learned helplessness vis a vis past relationships by the time you met him and while you've been together for years, those old lessons still haven't been unlearned satisfactorily.
i assume that, b/c he isn't comfortable talking, couples counseling is out of the question?
i'm sorry, MG. i'm afraid i don't really have any insights that would be helpful to you.
ed
midwestyankee
Literotica Guru
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M's, I think that sw has a good point here. It sounds as if M lives the marriage in a state of helplessness. It appears that being helpless is the only way he knows to get what he wants.
SW is also right in saying that discussion does not equal communication. Well, it does, but in these cases the object of the discussion is not merely an intellectual understanding of the topic at hand. The object of these discussions is personal change, an agreement to change one's habits. But if the only way he knows to feel appreciated is to respond helplessly, then you're at a stalemate.
Has M considered individual counseling? Have the two of you discussed doing some sort of couples counseling? There is more going on here than relationship issues, to be sure. What's going on is defining your relationship in a degenerative way.
It sounds as if you generally take the active role in relationship repair situations. I wonder if it would work for you to go beyond being the proactive one to start giving orders. Perhaps it's time for you to take charge and insist on change instead of negotiating for change.
SW is also right in saying that discussion does not equal communication. Well, it does, but in these cases the object of the discussion is not merely an intellectual understanding of the topic at hand. The object of these discussions is personal change, an agreement to change one's habits. But if the only way he knows to feel appreciated is to respond helplessly, then you're at a stalemate.
Has M considered individual counseling? Have the two of you discussed doing some sort of couples counseling? There is more going on here than relationship issues, to be sure. What's going on is defining your relationship in a degenerative way.
It sounds as if you generally take the active role in relationship repair situations. I wonder if it would work for you to go beyond being the proactive one to start giving orders. Perhaps it's time for you to take charge and insist on change instead of negotiating for change.
silverwhisper
just this guy, you know?
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MG: you've been beating your head against this wall for how long, precisely?
i gotta be honest: i think he's completely unwilling to change. maybe that's b/c he doesn't understand the urgency or maybe he's just that fucking selfish. if there's a third possibility, i'm not seeing it.
look: you love him. he says he loves you. but at some point, love means more than saying "i love you". there has to be some willingness to address a concern that's been raised, b/c that willingness must proceed from respect for you and what you're saying.
w/out respect, there really isn't any such thing as love. it's that simple. so i honestly have to wonder if he understands what love really means.
i know this sounds harsh and i don't mean to suggest that he should immediately and fully address everything you say, but keeping you on this emotional yo-yo routine he's got you doing is completely and utterly unacceptable. he should be man enough to stand up and actually change some of his behaviors.
ed
i gotta be honest: i think he's completely unwilling to change. maybe that's b/c he doesn't understand the urgency or maybe he's just that fucking selfish. if there's a third possibility, i'm not seeing it.
look: you love him. he says he loves you. but at some point, love means more than saying "i love you". there has to be some willingness to address a concern that's been raised, b/c that willingness must proceed from respect for you and what you're saying.
w/out respect, there really isn't any such thing as love. it's that simple. so i honestly have to wonder if he understands what love really means.
i know this sounds harsh and i don't mean to suggest that he should immediately and fully address everything you say, but keeping you on this emotional yo-yo routine he's got you doing is completely and utterly unacceptable. he should be man enough to stand up and actually change some of his behaviors.
ed
midwestyankee
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I think that his going to counseling is an excellent first step. Perhaps you could get him to agree to sitting down with you at night after each session to talk about how the session went and to ask him what sort of progress he thinks that he might be making. Having him relate the process and outcomes of the therapy to you will reinforce any commitment that he made to the counselor. I've seen this work before.
There is also a big difference between insisting that he do something and shrilly screaming at him to do it. I think you could become the more dominant partner and still remain a reasonable person to whom he can relate as an adult. And to whom he would feel a responsibility to act on his own and not retreat into helplessness.
It might even be worth trying some of the animal-training techniques from the article that LJ posted - at least when you see M going into that helplessness mode. At this point, what's the worst that can happen? That he'd become addicted to the little cookies that you give as a reward?
There is also a big difference between insisting that he do something and shrilly screaming at him to do it. I think you could become the more dominant partner and still remain a reasonable person to whom he can relate as an adult. And to whom he would feel a responsibility to act on his own and not retreat into helplessness.
It might even be worth trying some of the animal-training techniques from the article that LJ posted - at least when you see M going into that helplessness mode. At this point, what's the worst that can happen? That he'd become addicted to the little cookies that you give as a reward?
silverwhisper
just this guy, you know?
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2005
- Posts
- 11,319
MG: while i doubt i'm the first person to say this, perhaps you need to shock him out of his complacency. he obviously lacks motivation--if that weren't the case, you wouldn't have created this thread.
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LadyJeanne
deluded
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2004
- Posts
- 5,885
First of all, sweets, let me give you a good morning hug and kiss because you more than deserve one every day!
{{{M's Girl}}}}
Second, you are a very strong, kind person for opening your heart like you have to help this man. Your posts show so much understanding about the serious, complicated issues your guy is struggling with. He is a lucky, lucky man to have found you. Very few women would stick around to see this through.
You've identified quite a few issues that only a commitment to therapy can help him with:
anger management
insecurity
self-esteem
fear of intimacy
not-so-repressed and not-so-buried anger and resentment toward his parents
depression
pain
guilt
So, he's finally started the process to heal himself. Now, you need to start that process, too. Please consider going to an individual counselor yourself to help you deal with your own pain during this time. This will be a long road for him, and while you're committed to helping him, don't set your own needs aside. I think it would help you to have a professional to talk to about all this stuff simmering inside you, and all the ups and downs ahead of both of you.
{{{M's Girl}}}}
Second, you are a very strong, kind person for opening your heart like you have to help this man. Your posts show so much understanding about the serious, complicated issues your guy is struggling with. He is a lucky, lucky man to have found you. Very few women would stick around to see this through.
You've identified quite a few issues that only a commitment to therapy can help him with:
anger management
insecurity
self-esteem
fear of intimacy
not-so-repressed and not-so-buried anger and resentment toward his parents
depression
pain
guilt
So, he's finally started the process to heal himself. Now, you need to start that process, too. Please consider going to an individual counselor yourself to help you deal with your own pain during this time. This will be a long road for him, and while you're committed to helping him, don't set your own needs aside. I think it would help you to have a professional to talk to about all this stuff simmering inside you, and all the ups and downs ahead of both of you.
