Why therapists aren't allowed to "therapy" their loved ones.

I've thought about my marriage and the relationships my friends tell me about with some trepidation in the past, particularly in the area of communication.

There are two things which must absolutely be present in marital communication but often conflict horribly:

1) Openness; honesty; bare-faced, exposed-nerve, no holds barred confession.
2) A strong sense of comfort and safety in expressing the above.

If you can't see where there might be conflict between the two, then go away. This post isn't for you.

Tonight, Man spoke of some aspects of his life with which he is less than satisfied, but all of the reading I've been doing in both psych and human services (which has a strong emphasis in therapeutic techniques and positive/humanistic psychology) laid what he was saying into a textbook perfect array of how a person can wallow in shortsighted misery whilst desperately searching for solutions that are safely tucked into their shirt pocket.

And, all of a sudden, I saw what the therapist I was seeing in Missouri meant when she talked about controlling what I can, and no longer allowing my misery over a thing to prevent me from dealing with it.

So, there Man was, trying to bear his soul, but it was all so clear in a therapeutic context that I couldn't help but point out contradictions and the fact that things A though F were totally within his power to alter, whereas thing G was just a matter of time and finding the right help. (Thing G was, of course, the shoulder pain, which I won't believe to be gone until it has been absent for a year.)

And, in the moment when it all fell into place, I also realized how utterly annoying it would be to have the person who should be your safest confidant in the world point out where you aren't taking the reins as you might in the most sensitive aspects of your life, the ventures you undertake that largely determine your worth as a person.

So I stopped. I realized that, in understanding the flaws of his misery, I was undermining how safe it should be to talk to me, how comfortable he should feel with his open sharing. After all, the fact that he's a man who is willing to talk about his problems instead of putting them all in the Man Cave is pretty stupendous in the first place, without me messing it up by putting a fixit hat on during confession time.

True listeners are worth their weight in gold, and now I know why. Listening is a very difficult skill to master, in its truest and most valuable sense.

Some of the greatest advice I've gotten in my life is from an advice columnist (but please, don't let that ruin your opinion of me) and it is as follows:

When faced with a difficult situation, think of what you'd tell a friend who asked you for advice on that same issue. You might just find that you have more wisdom than you first realize.

It's amazing how effective this one nugget can be, fascinating how my perspective whirls into better alignment with reality when sobbing subjectivity steps aside and lets capable objectivity steer for a while.

Problem: The kids want more attention.
Patty Passthebuck: I just can't stand how whiny they get and who wants to spend time with whiny kids?
Reba Responsible: Well, I shall rearrange my priorities so that they don't feel they have to whine to get my attention in the first place. Simple.

Problem: The car needs an oil change.
Patty Passthebuck: What am I supposed to do about it? It's the car's problem! Why does it have to do that in the middle of the week when I don't have time or money??
Reba Responsible: It's only $40 (which I've saved because I have this handy odometer that tells me when the next oil change is due), and it'll take 30 mins while I get some groceries across the street or read a chapter in my fav book. Easy.

Problem: Bad communication with a boss.
Patty Passthebuck: I can't tell what she wants from me, so I'll just tell her she's expecting too much and nothing I do is good enough. I'll just chalk it up as a lost cause and ignore her.
Reba Responsible: I've made an appointment with my boss so we can clearly outline expectations, and set up standards of reporting that will enable both of us to be happy at work on a long term basis.

Do you see the difference? Now, you'll have some friends who will side with Patty because they're sycophants who think you want them to agree with you when you whine. Listening to Reba is a pain in the rear, but BEING Reba is one of the many simple yet subtle keys to happiness.

Here it is in simple terms: Patty is a victim. Reba is proactive, and realistic.

So, I was listening to Man be a bit of a Patty tonight. Poor guy. Maybe I should say he was being Neville Notmyfault, or perhaps Yakov Yesthat'smyfaultbutIdon'tknowwhattodoaboutitwhydoeslifehavetobesohard (those crazy Russians and their last names).

Anyway, he was being Yakov and I was being Reba and we were both irritating the liver out of each other so he sulked off to bed and I eyed my textbooks like we were sharing an "mmmm-hm" moment.

And now I know why therapists aren't allowed to therapy their spouses. Do you all feel sorry for him yet?