Shame Part 2: Shame Proneness

Megan came into session and sat down. Her eyes wandered around my face, but didn’t meet mine when she said, “I did it again. I went back to him.”

“Tell me,” I said, leaning forward.

“I’m a – a loser. I can’t stay away from him even though he’s bad for me.”

Megan had come into therapy after failing to sever ties with her most recent boyfriend, Tim, a man who repeatedly left her feeling emotionally abandoned and worthless. She reported a history of tumultuous intimate relationships that consistently left her feeling lonely and dissatisfied.

Tim was no different. Every time he dismissed her or invalidated her, it tore a little more of her heart out. Worse yet, it confirmed her inner fear: She was worthless and no one would ever, could ever love her. Trying to repair fractures to her self-esteem, she would search for the next man to love her, only to find herself in another relationship where she felt dismissed and worthless.

This isn’t unusual. It’s certainly a story I’ve heard variations of many times as a psychotherapist. Megan, who was thirty-five years old, reported that she had been going through this cycle since she was a teenager. She felt hopeless that she would ever find the stable, loving relationship she so wanted. I felt it as soon as we started our work together. Shame.

In my last blog post, I discussed the shame that entered the room in early sessions, when patients began exposing themselves. Megan’s shame was more complicated. Normal shame is transient, but for Megan, her inclination was to experience shame in all ambiguous situations. This proclivity has been assigned various names. I like to call it shame-proneness, which is the term June Price Tangney, one of the leaders in research on moral affects, (shame and guilt), named it.

When Megan came into situations that naturally elicited self-assessment, her emotional response would be feeling bad, small, defective. Self-esteem is a cognitive evaluation of the self; shame, on the other hand, is an affect, and therefore, permeates the entire self, spilling into every crack of someone’s being, coloring all their experience-darkly.

On some level, Megan believed that she deserved poor treatment from men, causing a repetition of the very pattern she was trying to stop. No matter how hard she tried to find a different outcome, she was always confronted with the same feelings of shame. Thus, the narrative – I am bad – that she desperately wanted to change, perpetuated itself.

Megan explained that she went back to Tim during the week when he promised it would be different, only to be left again. This was the fifth time she went back only to be left.

“He threw me out.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “See, I’m weak. I’m a failure at everything. I’m never going to find what I want. It’s me.”

Her feeling bad about herself in the Tim situation pervaded other aspects of her life. That is, she felt bad all around, not just in relations to Tim.

I knew I had to help her see how her self-perception created a type of self-fulling prophecy. So, I reminded her of what we had been working on. “Remember what we talked about?” I often use psycho-education with patients, even when I’m working more psychoanalytically as I usually do with a shame-prone patient. I don’t find that keeping the nuances of therapeutic work undisclosed helps, especially for patients who feel so exposed already. It’s like throwing them outside in the cold without a coat, alone.

Megan and I had discussed shame. She knew that it tied back to early experiences of emotional neglect and abuse, where she unfortunately heard messages that she was bad and wouldn’t be anything different, ever.

“I remember, that just makes me feel worse. I should know better by now,” she whispered. This is where shame is so tricky; it’s very hard to intervene without evoking more shame.

I addressed her experience in the room. “We knew it would be hard not to go back if he called. Intellectual insight comes before the emotional connections that make change easier. You are working very hard to undo a narrative that took years to build. It takes time.” I leaned forward, again. “Remember, what we talked about last session, during the break from Tim.”

“Yes, I’ve – gosh, I can’t believe I forgot.” She pulled out her phone and showed me a schedule of all the workouts she had done the last week. Megan had been very athletic. I encouraged her to go back to exercising.

I wanted her to feel her strength and resilience. I wanted her to find her value in her activities. One of the most effective ways to help people combat these shame narratives is to help them access and activate their natural strengths, the parts of them that weren’t fostered, because no one acknowledged them when they were younger.

It’s our job as clinicians to discover these natural endowments and cultivate them for all of our patients. Shame-prone patients need more help figuring out what they are and more time to develop motivation.
Megan smiled as she showed me what she had accomplished that week. I saw pride glowing in her eyes. I observed it with her. “What are feeling?”

“I feel good.”

I smiled, thinking that we had found a space for Megan that was shame free. “What’s it like to feel good?”

“It’s something I knew I wanted to feel, but I could never quite find.”

“Now that you know what it feels like, it will start to get a little easier. Be hopeful.”

“I am.”

*Megan is an amalgamate of patients suffering from shame-proneness.
 

Jill Scharff on Object Relations Therapy with Couples

What is Object Relations Therapy?

Rafal Mietkiewicz: Jill, you are a renowned psychiatrist, psychoanalyst and object relations therapy expert. You’ve written and edited many books on object relations therapy so I’m wondering if we can start with just a basic overview of what object relations therapy actually is. It can seem like rocket science to beginning therapists.
Jill Savege Scharff: It’s an unfortunate term, “object relations,” but it was chosen in deference to Freud’s use of the term “object,” which refers to the object that the drive to be in relationship attaches to. Freud talked about the sexual and aggressive drives later in his life, the life and death drives. Fairbairn, who introduced the term “object relations theory,” talked about people’s main motivation being to be in relationship, not only for love an security, but also for a sense of meaning. Giving meaning to existence.

It’s not just the mother who gives meaning to the baby, but the baby who gives meaning to the mother, who becomes a mother because she has the baby to relate to and care for. Object relations refers to the internal psychic structure that develops from these early experiences.

RM: And as therapists our job is to search for these internal structures in our clients?
JS:
Intimate relationships provide an opportunity to rediscover the internal object relations in a new dimension—one that may help it grow and change.
You don’t have to search very far because that internal structure is written large in external, current relationships. The internal relations operate as a kind of design that leads people to repeat it in their current relationships—partly because it’s familiar, and they want to recreate what they know, and partly to have new experiences that, if they’re healthy and interesting and challenging may encourage new learning so that modifications in the original object relations can be made. Intimate relationships provide an opportunity to rediscover the internal object relations in a new dimension—one that may help it grow and change. Same is true in therapy. Does it still sound like rocket science, Rafal?
RM: Yes, a little bit. It seems like it would take a long time to unwind these long-term patterns, and that the therapy would go quite deep.
JS: It does take time to create deep character change. It can take a couple of years with couples.
RM: I am a working therapist, and I have my own experiences in both individual and marital therapy, but the idea of working with a couple for a couple of years sounds challenging, to be honest.
JS: Well, that’s more for couples who are looking for radical change. Some couples come in and just want a little adjustment. They want to settle a fight, or they want to decide whether or not to have a child, and it’s just a developmental intervention. A developmental challenge has got them stuck, and after few sessions they’re on their way. But others who have tremendous difficulties relating, communicating, establishing an intimate sexual relationship—these therapies take longer.
RM: So you distinguish between a developmental intervention and deep therapy.
JS: Well, you never want to do too much. You just want to do what people are looking for and what they need. With an object relations approach, which does operate in depth, even in a few sessions you can show a couple what that approach could offer them if they chose it, if they chose to invest in something more substantial.
RM: When you see a couple, what are the initial stages?
JS: First we do a consultation—not therapy—because I want to give the couple a chance to decide if they think we’re a good match, and I want to show them my style of working. Not every couple chooses to work in an object relations framework, which is basically psychoanalytic framework. Some are looking for a shorter-term approach, or a more structured approach, or a more direct of approach, in which case I’ll refer them.
RM: So the first stage is consultation.
JS: Yes, I’ll meet for maybe two or three sessions. Some people will meet with one partner once, the other partner once, and the couple once. But unless there’s a specific indication to do that, I usually prefer to just work with the couple.
RM: What would be the special indication?
JS: If there is an autonomous individual psychiatric problem, such as a deeply established substance abuse problem, I might want to meet with that individual to assess the extent of it and decide if individual treatment is a better option, maybe even a rehab program. Another indication is the wife or husband of a therapist. Sometimes, you’ll find that non-therapist is so far behind the one who is trained as a therapist, in terms of communicating emotional experience, that they sometimes need an individual session away from the therapist-partner in order to find the words to speak to the therapist partner.
RM: Can a couple’s therapist join these two functions, and do individual therapy with one person from a couple, while also doing therapy for the couple?
JS: That can happen as long as you’re very aware that your commitment is to the couple and that anything you do with the individual comes back into the couple meeting. That the confidentiality, for instance, pertains to the couple, not to the individual member of the couple. So let’s say the individual tells you about an affair that they haven’t told their partner, you would not reveal that personally, but you would suggest they bring it up in couples therapy. If they can’t do it, you probably find yourself unable to work with the couple because if you have a piece of information that you can’t use, it blocks you from being able to respond to all the clues that lead to that conclusion, which you can’t then make.
RM: You also can’t free associate, because you’re blocked from going in certain directions.
JS: You’re absolutely right. I was in Poland last week, and I heard that the Family Therapy Association is working on a statement about confidentiality and how it pertains to couple and family therapy.

The Couple’s Unconscious Life

RM: How do you assess whether a couple is suitable for object relations therapy.
JS: I’m looking for how they respond to any interpretations I make, to my overall presentation, to any links I make between the current struggles and the past. If I get someone who doesn’t want to deal with the past, who says “The past is the past and I don’t want to think about it,” they aren’t likely a good candidate for therapy with me.
If I get someone who doesn’t want to deal with the past…they aren’t likely a good candidate for therapy with me.
So I might say, “Well, okay, I can try to work with you just on the present, but I know that everything that happens now is informed by what happened before, so I don’t think that this kind of therapy will suit you. Do you want to try it and see it what it can do for you, or would you prefer something else?”

I always like to work with couples who can work with their dreams, but not all couples are willing to do that. Some think their dreams are very private to the individual. To me, once an individual tells a dream in couples therapy, it becomes a dream of the couple that the couple has shared with me and that helps me have access to the couple’s unconscious life. The whole of object relations therapy is geared to getting access to the impact of the unconscious on the relationship.

RM: What’s your technique for working with a couple’s dream?
JS: Well, first of all, I listen to the dream from the individual. Then I ask the individual what has occurred to them about the dream. Then, I ask the partner what comes up for them in relation to the dream. Then, as a couple, they’re now talking about this dream, and I look for their associations, my own associations, the feelings it elicits in them and myself, and I construct an interpretation of the dream and what it conveys about the current of their relationship and what they hope for, what they wish for, for themselves in the relationship.
RM: I have always found that working with dreams is great in individual therapy, but this opens a new ocean of possibilities working with couples. Once you’ve done the consultation sessions, and you’ve got the couple on board for treatment, what next?
JS: We agree on the frequency of therapy, which will be once or twice a week. I like my sessions to be 45 minutes, but for couples who come a long distance, we might work for an hour or an hour and a half, whatever suits them. But by arrangement, not just running over time; we agree ahead of time what will be the best format. I don’t do questionnaires. I just ask them to come into the room. They sit.

Can you see my room? [Interview is being done via Skype]

RM: Of course, I see two armchairs.
JS: There are two red chairs over there. They sit in those chairs. I sit back here near the desk. There is a couch down that wall, past the printer. Some couples will sit together on the couch. Sometimes one will sit on the couch in a rather narcissistic way while the other will perch on the chair. However they sit, it’s of interest how they relate themselves to me, how they relate to each other, in spatial terms.

And then I just ask them to say whatever they want to say. Just come in and start. I don’t ask questions. I just listen, and I respond. I think my manner is sort of socially appropriate, unobtrusive, nondirective. It’s not remotely analytic as we’ll sometimes imagine analysts to be. And I’m not saying all the time, “And what do you think about that?”

A Couple's State of Mind

RM: You’re not?
JS: “And how does that make you feel?” No, it’s more that we’re just having an open space conversation, really. And then, every so often, I’ll arrive at a construction of what I think has been happening and show them their repeating patterns of interaction and how they connect to their early experiences. How they treat each other as people from the past were treated or treated them. I’m very interested in helping them as a couple to develop what Mary Morgan calls “a couple’s state of mind.”

You get some couples who used to think as a couple, plan as a couple, and who, because of the strains and stresses of their life and the emergence of negative aspects of their characters, have lost that ability. And then other couples come in who have never actually had it.
You get some couples who used to think as a couple, plan as a couple, and who, because of the strains and stresses of their life and the emergence of negative aspects of their characters, have lost that ability. And then other couples come in who have never actually had it. They come as two individuals. Each one thinking what he or she is doing and not understanding that the marriage is a thing in and of itself that they each contribute to the shaping of, the nurturing of, the maintenance of. If they can learn to do that, then the marriage offers them a great deal.

It’s not just that the partners take care of and love each other, but also the partnership or marriage that they construct. I’m not saying they have to be married in a church or anything, but if they made a commitment to be together, and they nurture that relationship, it will then nourish them and support them through the life cycle and through the various challenges of having the first child, the first child leaving home, retirement—whatever comes through life.

RM: Is one course of therapy enough for a couple or do they tend to come in and out over time?
JS: I think most couples, if they work for a couple years and get to the appropriate developmental level, then they have the tools they need when challenges come up. But you can never predict what life will throw in the way of a couple, and some things might overwhelm their capacity to adapt. If that’s the case they may come back for another session or series of sessions.

The Death of the Couple

RM: What techniques do you use? Do you give interpretations?
JS: I’m a little bit allergic to the term “techniques.” It sounds like they’re little things you apply in various circumstances.
I tend to think of technique more generally as a way of listening, observing, waiting, holding anxiety, not jumping to action, not becoming directive, of always following the affect.
I tend to think of technique more generally as a way of listening, observing, waiting, holding anxiety, not jumping to action, not becoming directive, of always following the affect. It’s very important to always be listening for the feeling behind the words. We do that by listening to the tone, the rhythm of the speech, the hesitations in speech, pauses, slips of the tongue, of course. I’m always interested in any dream material that comes up that will give more access to the unconscious. Then we look for repeating patterns of interaction. We name them and ask the couple to think about why they need this particular pattern. In other words, what defensive function does this pattern serve and what is the anxiety that lies behind it? And there’s always another anxiety that lies behind the most conscious anxiety—fundamentally, the main anxiety is death of the couple. That is the main anxiety.
RM: Death of the couple?
JS: Yes.
RM: Can you say a bit more about that?
JS: Couples are usually not consciously thinking about it, but fundamentally it’s what every couple is worried about. The individual worries that his or her pathology will destroy the couple.
Every couple tries not to remember that one of them will die first.
They consciously worry that they’ll be left, abandoned, rejected, tossed aside, but fundamentally they’re worried that the couple will be destroyed. Every couple tries not to remember that one of them will die first, and no couple knows which one will die first, and no couple knows which one will be left when that happens.
RM: It’s frightening, of course.
JS: It’s very, very frightening when it begins to come to consciousness. As people, maybe in their 40s, they start to maybe lose one friend, or they’ll lose a parent, and they see what happens to the one who is left, then it starts to bear in on them, and they become conscious of that fundamental worry.
RM: How do you work on developing the couple’s state of mind?
JS: The therapist must develop the capacity to be impartial to each individual—or to be equally partial to both of them—but with an overarching commitment to the couple relationship. It’s keeping that in mind that marks the more advanced couple therapist. Someone who isn’t pulled to take sides but who remains neutral, or, if pulled to take a side, latches onto it and can interpret what has just happened. Name it as a skewing of the original intention that reflects a characteristic of the individual who initiated it and the partner who allowed it to happen—since it will likely be a pattern that happens in the relationship. And there you have it, in the laboratory of the couple therapy, where you can see it, examine it in relation to yourself, a couple therapist who doesn’t have all the investment of being a life partner.
RM: Do you have all these concepts in your head when you talk to a couple?
JS: No. I think we do all that theory as background, and if we get stuck in our work with a couple, then we pull out the theory and see if it can help us. But, there’s something very important that you haven’t asked me about, which has to do with sexuality.
RM: By all means….
JS: I’ve found that a lot of couples—or rather couples therapists—don’t actually ask about the couple’s intimate relationship. If a couple presents with a sexual problem they’ll respond to it of course, but they don’t always ask about it as part of the assessment, and I think it’s important to do that, and to not be inhibited about it. It’s just part of the couple’s life and should be considered along with all other aspects. Now, if there is a specific sexual problem, then the object relations approach, which is analytic primarily, has to include a behavioral component.
RM: I know this is hard to quantify, but can you talk about one of your biggest successes and one your biggest failures as a therapist?

JS: That’s really hard to do off the cuff. I mean, there are couples that break up—and in one way, that’s a failure of the couple therapy. In another way, that is a recognition of their differentiation and that the therapy has helped them to reach this very painful decision. Whether you call that a success or a failure is really debatable.
The couple that quits in a rage at you or in disappointment with you—that feels like a failure.
The couple that quits in a rage at you or in disappointment with you—that feels like a failure. It’s also a tremendous loss because you didn't get the opportunity to work with them on these intense feelings which, had they come back to work on them, could have been very useful to their relationship. As it is, they just go off with an idea of putting the bad object into you as if it will stay there, and they’ll be relieved of it. Of course, the bad object always returns, and they won’t have had a chance to really work on it. That feels like a failure to me.
RM: It’s painful, yes.
JS: Success is any couple that goes off, and you never hear from them again because they’re coping. You hope that is a success, but you never really know because part of our policy is not to do follow-up, not to intrude on people’s lives after they have ended their contract with you. That’s one of the sad things about being a couples therapist, is not knowing what happens with them—unless you hear about a couple by chance or unless they return as parents of a child, and they want you then to see their child. They’re doing okay as a couple, but because of the period that they went through when they weren’t doing okay as a couple, their child has built in certain personality characteristics that are hampering that child. So you see the residue of the couple problem in the child.

You can work with the child to get them back on developmental track, but at the same time, you see the couple as parents and how well they are doing both as a couple and as parents, and that’s very gratifying. You could call that a success.

RM: What’s your advice to new therapists?
JS: Get into treatment.
RM: Get into treatment.
JS: And get supervision. And then you can study and take courses. It’s constant work. And if you find a couple daunting, you are not alone. Couple therapy is the hardest work we do because a couple has such a tight bond. They are together because they fit at conscious and unconscious levels.

Success is any couple that goes off, and you never hear from them again because they’re coping.
As the couple therapist, you often feel either you’re breaking a boundary by entering the bedroom, as it were, as if you were a child in an Oedipal situation, or you feel terribly excluded because you can’t get in. You feel guilty about trying to get in. You feel confused, puzzled, rejected. It can be very uncomfortable working with a couple, and this is the reason many people don’t do it, I think. That’s why I say get into therapy and supervision. It takes a lot of personal therapy on the part of the therapist to understand how their own personality is constructed and how they tend to express themselves not only in their personal relationships, but in relation to the couples and families they work with.
RM: Jill, thank you very much.
JS: You’re so welcome. Delightful talking to you.

Therapy: A Poem

Therapy

In that billowing silence.
A silence to loathe and love,
like the first gasp of submersion at the pool.

In that silence I examined the paintings
on your wall and thin splits between the floor boards,
the leavings caught in them – crumbs and dust
and once a tiny blue bead. In the roaring
silence while I scrambled away from my edges,
I came to know well the hem of your skirts
and the lay of your hands on your lap. Still.

Each Tuesday I sat in the corner of your couch,
ringed by a wreath of damp tissue.
You rocked in your chair.

Sometimes I thought
you were a beatific witch
just waiting with your gentle prods
to send me back into my seas,
to push me under, over and over,
sometimes I thought you invented the pearl
I sought – a mean joke on me.

I thought you knew what I was going to say next,
knew my interior as if it were written in a code
for which you held the key.
Sometimes I liked this, then I didn’t.

How still our bodies were! While I dangled
over the fire at the bottom of my darkest pits,
writhed in the salt of my ordinary wounds.
How quiet and desperate that year of weekly hours.
How seasons of light dwindled
and blossomed across the planks of your floor,
how my singular and universal dreads met
and wrestled under your watch.

How I wanted to crawl into your lap
and have you stroke my hair
and say there, there,
and how, in a way,
never touching me,
you did.
 

The No-Fee Session

I live in a neighborhood in New Jersey where people say hello to one another in the street even if they don’t know each other well. One man stood out for me in the many years I am living here: He doesn’t say hello even though he sees me several times a week. He doesn’t even bother to nod his head. I could never understand what I had done to him, but I just felt as if he hated me.

One day not too long ago I was surprised to get a telephone call from him. “I really need your help, he said. “I need to talk. My son who is in his early 20's punched me in the face – lightly, but still a blow.” I understood very quickly that though he wasn’t injured physically, to be attacked by one’s son had to be a trauma. I gave him an appointment – a midday hour the following day and he showed up at the given time.

He went into detail about the incident and asked me all kinds of questions. His main purpose was to be helpful to his son, get him “the right medicine” as he called it. He wanted to know who I could recommend that might “help him.”

“Does your son feel he has a problem,” I asked.

“No, he thinks I have the problem.”

And then the man gave even more detail about a long and somewhat tortured relationship with his wayward son. “I could never give him what he needed.” He described his son as “lost and adrift” and again asserted that his son was in great need of “psychological help.”

“What does your son want from you?” I asked him.

“I don’t know,” the man said. “I don’t think I ever knew. All I know is that I have got to send him somewhere to get help.”

I can’t put my finger on exactly when, but I had the distinct feeling somewhere within the first 20 minutes of the session that this man had no intention of paying me for the session. He was going to take and take. He asked question after question about my experience. He sighed and talked, sighed and talked. The idea occurred to me that just as he had failed to say hello to me all these years and perhaps just as he had failed to give to his son, he would fail to give to me. Although it was hard to tell from one session, it seemed that he had little interest in knowing anything about himself and evinced even less interest in knowing something about his son. He wanted a 'solution.' At the same time as this realization dawned on me I threw myself into the work, giving him the best possible session I could give, listening and feeling the feelings as if he were giving me a million dollars.

As I listened to him, I saw the lines of trauma etched on his face. He was 57 years old, but looked somewhat older. I caught a glimpse of him as he walked toward my office. He didn’t walk so much as trudge as though he were walking through invisible snow drifts even though it was summer. Further discussion revealed that he was the son of elderly holocaust survivors. His relationship with neither his mother nor his father was what you would call “loving” or even “pleasant” in his words. “They are very bitter, un-giving people,” he explained. Apparently, he had inherited and internalized one thing from his parents: the idea that “nothing good can or ever will happen to you” and he lived his life accordingly, investing as little as he possibly could get away with.

It was not long before the session time was used up and beyond. Even as I rose to signify the end of the session, he remained seated, being both talkative and acquisitive. It felt that he was trying to extract as much as he possibly could from me.

It would have been tempting to broach the fee with him then. After all, he wanted something from me, wasn’t I entitled to “get” something from him. Quid pro quo, give something, get something. Isn’t that an idea that everyone can understand, even one with a distorted sense of entitlement?

I have come to understand, however, that often people’s sense of entitlement stems from not from evil or even greed, but is a maladaptive way of addressing their traumas. They are still angry about the long-ago past, but they don’t know that. Instead, they seek reparations perversely — through something that feels like exploitation to the other, but they are unaware. For such damaged, wounded people, the language of quid pro quo, though utterly reasonable to you and me, can be experienced as a trauma. It is especially ironic (and enraging) because his own stance with the world is far more exacting and exploitative than the language of even exchange. It was more like: do for me and maybe, just maybe I will do for you.

Finally, he got up at the end of the session and weakly thanked me for my time. He made no mention at all of payment and neither did I make mention of it. We shook hands and he left.

When he walked out of the office, surprisingly, I did not feel the way I thought I would feel. Oddly, I felt enriched. He had given me a chance to understand him even as his view of the world and his son were distorted. I had made up my mind that my only objective was to provide him with a healing experience. Under no circumstances would I allow him to be re-traumatized even as he was a traumatized man who unconsciously traumatizes others, I knew he could only ingest kindness. Nothing else.

I had honored our profession and was nourished by the feeling of having done the right thing.

A few weeks later I saw him in the street. To my utter surprise he said hello to me for the first time. He updated me on his son’s status and then said, “You can send me a bill for the session.” He said it half-heartedly, I think, hoping that I wouldn’t actually do it, but there was a trace of sincerity there. It gave me cause to feel that perhaps with my kindness, I contributed a little bit to his healing.

Treating a Couple After an Affair

The couple in my office is connected mostly by the spaces they hold between them. Sitting on the loveseat in my office, they do not touch, although their arms, legs, and elbows and hands shift in an unconscious echo of each other’s movements. They are not so much mirroring each other as performing an elaborate dance of avoidance and retreat, their bodies’ dialogue spoken even through their many silences. On a larger scale, the same thing happens where they live: he comes home, she goes upstairs; she comes downstairs, he goes up; he enters a room, she leaves. They know if one of them tries to bridge the gap, something even worse will happen. There will be a wordless rejection, a sharp reminder of loneliness like a slap, or there will be a spark that will catch, flaring up hot and mean between them.

She can’t imagine how she is going to get over the affair. She is all the things anyone would expect: angry, hurt, shamed, frightened. He is torn between the grief of losing his wife and the grief of losing his lover. He has given up his lover in that he no longer sees her, and hasn’t for months, but he still has this backwards kind of feeling that if he re-engages with his wife—has fun with her, makes love to her, creates pleasant memories with her—that he is somehow being unfaithful to the lover he has renounced and, most importantly, all that she represented to him. To maintain what remains of his honor and fidelity he feels he must remain distant from his lover, his wife, and himself.

Today she is angry, but instead of the usual sullen acceptance on his part, he flares up in anger, and then, just as suddenly, bursts into tears. They are both startled by his emotion.

He gasps out the words, “I can’t believe how much I miss her” and I think, oh boy, she is going to explode.

I take a breath, preparing to intervene, but I hesitate when I see her face. There is anger there, but also something more like confusion or doubt. I wait.

“I don’t know what to do,” she says, “I want to kill him, but my heart goes out to him at the same time. What am I supposed to do?” In other circumstances, the bewilderment in her expression would be comical.

I would have said, if he had given me the opportunity to offer advice, that it would not be helpful for him to share this grief with her, that it would only inflame her anger and hurt and sense of betrayal, but there is no going back now. His grief is intense and visceral. He is holding his head in his hands and almost wailing.

Still looking at me, she holds her palms up and shrugs her shoulders in a mute gesture of helplessness, then turns to look at him. I have no idea what will happen next.

Slowly, she reaches across the couch for his hand and twines her fingers through his. He grasps her hand like a lifeline and clings to her as he sobs.

He chokes out his guilt—“I’m so sorry, so sorry”—but at the same time his relief is palpable. He seems more present than he has at any time since they started coming for sessions. There is no sense of anything secret or held back. He gathers her closer to him and they lean into each other in a tight embrace, both crying.

They leave, and I find I am near tears myself. What I am feeling is mostly the kind of surprised awe I feel sometimes in nature—what I feel in those rare moments, a dawn, or a sunset, when I am completely outside myself, bearing witness to beauty. His unvarnished honesty, her generosity, their mutual capacity to express love in what has been an atmosphere of despair and anger were acts of tremendous courage. Certainly it may have been, like a particular sunset, a fleeting moment, perhaps unrecoverable. But I hope—and I realize that I don’t need to go much further than that one word: hope. I hope, and I believe they will hope, that this moment of meeting holds a promise that other such meetings are possible.

The Joy of Small Miracles in Psychotherapy

I confess that sometimes in the course of my work sadness overwhelms me. I am not talking about compassion fatigue, burnout or a concoction of transferences and inductions. I’ve been listening to folks talk for almost two decades now, but sad narratives still affect me, as well they should.

Sometimes the healer in me dips under the radar and I feel only like I am standing at the station watching a train wreck happen, or so I think. Faith and that good old fashioned “patience for the process” that I learned back in social work school get eclipsed by the urgency and impulsiveness that often walks through my office door. Even though I know that we do not control outcomes (and as my career ages into its mid life, I am finding this truism to be a relief), I do sometimes wish for miraculous epiphanies and prescient strides forward.

Not too long ago, I got my miracle.

A couple I’ve been seeing was in therapy to discern whether or not they were going to stay together. He wanted to stay married and she was, she said, not sure. She did not feel loved. He did not feel supported. When she felt angry or hurt, she threatened divorce, or told him what she hated about him. When she did this, he became more frustrated, backed away further, and so went the dance.

We’d been unpacking things for a while—the dialogue between them, her history, his. But still she maintained that he was a louse. (He had never impressed me as such.) There’s more to their story, but over the course of the therapy, I began to feel utter sadness. I found myself wondering why I was such an advocate for their marriage. Was I thinking of their four kids? Was I feeling his sadness? Or hers? Was I feeling my own sadness? How do I know what’s best for them? Or their kids? Was I lapsing into judgment? And if so, why?

My sadness in this case was this too: This guy really did step up. And this woman kept knocking him down at every turn. She seemed to be deeply, wholly cathected to killing him, the marriage and love itself.

As a defense against my sadness, I began to diagnosis her in my head. “She is borderline,” I’d tell myself. Or, “She is a typical ACOA.” And then, “She suffered too much trauma to be able to sustain a mature relationship.” Silently I found myself begging her not to destroy her home. She did love this man, she claimed. And she fessed up to his good fathering. But for session after session she wept about how her husband was not her hero, and how out there somewhere her real love awaited.

And then one day, out of the blue, she came into session and said that she had prayed. And that she had made a decision. She said that she had been behaving terribly and it was going to stop. She said that her husband was a good man and deserved her respect and support. She said that she sees that he is not her father who disappointed her, that she is loved and loveable and that her relationship with her husband and her self fair much better when she acts reasonably and kindly, and handles her feelings better. She told me that she understands that when she feels vulnerable and afraid she threatens instead of saying a feeling or expressing a need. She understands that words can build or break, and that she wants to build. That she is now fully aware of this and can and will do it differently.

Her husband was right on board, appreciating her openness and her effort, restating his love for her and his willingness to keep working on himself and on their emotional connection.

Perhaps all those elements of EFT, IFS, CBT, DBT, Imago, Attachment and good old psychoanalysis that I’d been pulling from did their job. Or maybe it was my attentiveness or occasional loving looks, or as of late, my restraint from saying very much at all. In my mind, as I listened to her I would visualize writer Ann Lamott’s acronym for WAIT – Why Am I Talking? Perhaps in my silence she felt understood, and that her profound longing and sadness could breathe.

I admit that I really do like to see breakthroughs now and again. I suppose they help me hang in better when all those feelings come through my door, whipping up my own like a wind gust on dry leaves. With all my ideas about what really happened swirling about, I’m settling on the miracle. I’m giving myself the gift of joy, of seeing the train wreck derailed and not the train. I know that in this business some miracles are temporary—sometimes it seems like character, relationship and repetition difficulties are more resilient than their resolutions—so I’ll take the miracles when they come.

Esther Perel on Mating in Captivity

Lori Schwanbeck: You are widely known around the world for your unique and thought-provoking stance on what makes marriage work. Can you tell us a little bit about your perspective and what makes it unique?
Esther Perel: I was originally trained in psychodynamic psychotherapy, but my real home for many years has been in family systems theory—I trained with Salvador Minuchin, and then in psychodrama, expressive arts therapies, and bioenergetics. And for many years, I worked extensively as a cross-cultural psychologist with couples and families in cultural transition, primarily refugees, internationals, and mixed marriages—interracial, interreligious, and intercultural couples.
LS: So you saw a lot of different people’s lives.
EP: Yes, I'm interested in difference. I'm interested in the relationship between the individual and the larger context, looking specifically at gender relations and childbearing practices. I then added my interest in sexuality, so that I'm now working at the intersection between culture, couples, and sexuality.

I also like to work with clinicians, be they physicians or mental health professionals, to promote the integration of sexuality within the couples therapy world, and to integrate relational thinking within the sexuality world.
LS: What do you think is missing in most clinicians’ approaches to working with sexuality and intimacy in the Western world?
EP: I just read a whole review article by Eli Coleman about sexuality training in medical schools, and it has undergone yet another major decline since 2010. We would have thought we were finally creating comprehensive training in sexuality for physicians, but we are not. So what is missing? First and foremost, for mental health professionals as well as for all health professionals, is training: the acknowledgment of sexual health as an integrated part of general mental and physical health. The vast majority of couples therapists have had no training in sexuality whatsoever—maybe an hour here and there. Couples therapy has become, over the years, a desexualized practice. Sex is the elephant in the room.
Couples therapy has become a desexualized practice. Sex is the elephant in the room.
Most therapists do not talk about it, don't know how to talk about it, and often wait for a couple to bring it up. And the couple themselves are often uncomfortable talking about it, so it remains the unaddressed subject, though it's often hardly insignificant.

A Better Sexual Relation

LS: You see our sexuality, our erotic life, as vital in the health of a couple.
EP: I see a couple's erotic life as an important dimension of their relationship because it is an integral part of the romantic ideal that is the dominant model of modern love. We took love and brought it to marriage or committed relationships. We then sexualized love. Then with the democratization of contraception, we liberated women from the mortal dangers that were associated with sex, and sex got separated from its sole reproduction function—as Anthony Giddens says, it became a reflexive project of the self, an ongoing process of self-definition. We have, for the first time in history, a sexuality within long-term relationships that isn't about having ten kids or a woman's marital duty, but that is rooted in desire, i.e., in the sovereign free will of individuals to engage sexually with their partners. And in the process, we have linked sexual satisfaction with marital happiness; that is what has made sexuality an important element of modern marriages.

I realized in writing Mating in Captivity that I was not interested only in sexuality, per se. And I certainly was not so interested in, "Are people having sex? How often? How hard? How many? How long? Are you a sexless couple because you have less than 11 sexual interactions a year?" and so forth. My interests lie not in the statistics of sex or the perfect performance industry that pervade our society.

Instead, I found I was really interested in what makes a couple feel a sense of aliveness, vibrancy, vitality—of Eros as a life force. When couples complain about the listlessness of their sex lives, they sometimes may want to have more sex, but they will always want a better sexual relation. And they will invoke the experience of renewal, of connectedness, of playfulness, of mystery, of regeneration, of power.

My distinction between sex and eroticism actually came out of my work in trauma. My husband directs the International Trauma Studies Program at Columbia, and he works a lot with torture survivors. I would wonder, "When do you know that you have reconnected with life after a traumatic experience?" It's when people are once again able to be creative and playful, to go back into the world and into the parts of them that invite discovery, exploration, and expansiveness—when they're once again able to claim the free elements of themselves and not only the security-oriented parts of themselves.

In the community of Holocaust concentration camp survivors in Antwerp, Belgium where I grew up, there were two groups: those who didn't die, and those who came back to life. And those who didn't die were people who lived tethered to the ground, afraid, untrusting. The world was dangerous, and pleasure was not an option. You cannot play, take risks, or be creative when you don't have a minimum of safety, because you need a level of unself-consciousness to be able to experience excitement and pleasure. Those who came back to life were those who understood eroticism as an antidote to death.
LS: That’s a very powerful statement. Do you find many couples that come to you dead in their relationships?
EP: Yes, but it's not always in their relationships. Sometimes they feel deadened inside of themselves as individuals.
I think that one of the prime motives for transgression is trying to beat back a feeling of deadness.
I think that one of the prime motives for transgression is trying to beat back a feeling of deadness. And the deadness isn't the fault of the other person at all. It may be a slow progression of an atrophy that has taken place inside themselves. I think that when people miss a sexual connection, there's often one partner who misses it more than the other. That longing, that yearning for that feeling of aliveness, of connection, of transcendence, of vitality, of energy, of rush is what people talk about. And on the other side of that, they will talk about feeling flat, feeling numb, feeling shut down, feeling dead.
LS: It sounds like you’re really talking about eroticism as an expression of libido, of life energy. How do you support couples in reinvigorating the passion in their lives?
EP: There’s a little exercise that I like to do, which I borrowed from the work of Gina Ogden. I ask the each partner in the couple to complete the statement, “I shut myself down when… I turn myself off when…”

We tend to talk about “what shuts me off” and “what turns me off”; we say, “You turn me off,” but we don’t often ask the question, “When do I turn myself off?” “I turn myself off when I look at an email just before going to bed. I turn myself off when I am disinterested in what you’re talking about. I turn myself off when I worry about the kids. I turn myself off when I remember my childhood.” What do I do to shut myself down? “I turn myself off when I don’t take time for myself.”
LS: It’s really about personal responsibility.
EP: That's exactly it. So the partners go back and forth, and they can come up with a list of 10 or 15 each. And then we come to, "I turn myself on when…I become alive when…"—not just sexually. Because if you're feeling dead, the other person can wear the nicest Victoria's Secret lingerie (and there is no Victor's Secret, you know), and it's not going to do anything because there's nobody at the reception desk.

Most of the time, in response to the "I turn myself on" question, people will say things like, "When I am with friends. When I go out dancing. When I take time in nature. When I take time for myself. When I've accomplished something that I'm proud of"—things that have to do with our sense of self-worth, our connection to meaning, and our sense of pleasure—things that make us feel alive.

Then you ask a person, "You tell me you like to dance. When's the last time you went to dance?" And if they tell you, "It's been months," or, "It's been years," then, before you start to work on anything connected to sexuality, you say to them, "I think it's high time you went dancing, since it seems to be something you really love to do."
LS: When you say that modern couples therapy has become a desexualized profession, it really sounds like you’re talking about more than just sex, but really about tracking and supporting aliveness in people.
EP: I think that there are a few forces that desexualize couples therapy today. One is the notion that sexual problems are the consequence of relational problems. Then it follows that, if you fix the relationship, the sex will follow. Therefore, if all sexual problems are relational problems of complicity, of intimacy, of communication, of trust, and all of that, then there are no sexual problems. So we don’t talk about sex because sex is just a consequence of something else.
LS: And you’re saying it stands alone as a phenomenon in a relationship.
EP: I don't think that sexuality is only a metaphor: "Tell me about the state of the union and I know by extension what happens in the bedroom." I think that sexuality is a parallel narrative. I think, in fact, that when you change a couple's sexual relationship, it has an effect on every other part of their lives.
When you change people's relationships to their own sexual selves and their ability to connect with others, you have touched them at the core.
When you change people's relationships to their own sexual selves and their ability to connect with others, you have touched them at the core, because it's everything: mind, body, spirit, breath.

Love and desire both relate and conflict. Looking at the way people connect and their emotional history is very important, but it gets translated into the physicality of self, and then it inhabits its own narrative. They are parallel stories and they need to be looked at as such. So that's one.

Another element of the desexualization, which is, I would say, stronger here in the United States, is related to the fact that the focus over the last decades has been on security, attachment theory, the need for safety, and much less on the need for freedom, sovereignty, and self-determination. This is because we are working within a context that is among the more egalitarian contexts of the West, and one where people are often so individual and so alone that all the theories that have proliferated have been theories of connection. In the few decades before, they were all theories of individuation. It's like in art: you have one wave succeeding another. This is not a time when, in this country, people are very interested in investigating the need for freedom. That happens in environments where people are a lot more oppressed, and where they are overly connected in layers of extended family. That is not the dominant concern here, existentially or socially. And sexuality plays itself in both realms. You need a certain security for sex, for some people—not for everybody. But you certainly need a lot of freedom for sex.

Balancing Security and Freedom

LS: Tell us more about how that need for security and need for freedom can coexist.
EP: For me, the reference person is Stephen Mitchell, who in his work in Can Love Last? looked at how modern love and romanticism have brought us to try to reconcile within one relationship, within one person, fundamentally sets of opposing human needs.

In every epic story—in The Odyssey, for example—there is the home and the journey, the travel and the base. Today we want our needs for security, predictability, stability, reliability, dependability—all the anchoring, grounding elements of our lives—to be met in the same relationship with the person from whom we also expect adventure, novelty, mystery, and all of that. We still want what marriage always gave us, which was about economic support, companionship, family life, and social respectability, and on top of it, we want our partner to want us, to cherish us, to be our trusted confidant and our best friend. In effect, we are asking one person to give us what once an entire community used to provide.
LS: It’s a lot to ask for.
EP: We've never tried to experience both like that at that level in the history of human relationships. We also live twice as long—a hundred years ago, we died seven years after we were done raising children. So the longevity of what we expect from a monogamous, committed relationship is also unprecedented.

There is something about the enshrinement of the modern couple that has basically made it this hermetic unit where we have get all our needs met, rather than understand that there are certain things you're going to get from your sister, your aunt, your grandmother, your best friend, your colleague. I think that we can have multiple intimacies that are friendships and deep relationships with other people.

The model for me is really seeing the movement between freedom and security, which are the two pillars of development—connection and autonomy, independence and dependence. I think they are the two main pillars of growing up. And it is the same as any system. Every system needs to balance homeostasis and growth. It isn't just on an individual level. And every system regulates change and stability. So do individuals regulate connection and separateness.

The image that I often use in my work with couples is little kids: if everything is nice and going accordingly, you will have your child sit on your lap very cozy, nested, at ease, comfortable. And at some point, the child needs to jump out and go into the world to meet what are called the exploratory needs: freedom, independence, separateness, autonomy, all of that. If the little kid turns around, which kids always do, and looks to see what's going on with the adult, and the adult says, "Kiddo, the world's a beautiful place. Go for it. Enjoy it. I'm here," often the child will turn around and go further, and experience at the same time connection and independence, freedom and security. At some point, she has enough, and comes back to base and plops herself into your lap again, happily returning as an act of freedom to a place where she feels welcome because it offers security as well as the respect for freedom.

But if, on the other hand, the little child turns around and the adult says, "I need you. I'm alone. I miss you. I'm depressed. I'm anxious. I'm worried. What is so great out there? Why don't you want to be with me? My partner hasn't paid any attention to me"—any of the messages that basically say to the child, without ever saying it in words, "Come back"—then there are a number of dominant responses. One common one is that the child comes back, because we'll do anything not to lose the connection, since that's the primary need.

But we will sometimes lose a part of ourselves in order not to lose the other. We will forgo our need for freedom and space and separateness in order not to lose the other and the connection. And we will learn a way of loving that will have a certain excess emotional burden, responsibility, worry, that is beyond the normal elements of love that have to do with mutuality, reciprocity, care, and responsibility—so much so that once I love you, I can no longer leave you enough to be able to experience the freedom and the unself-consciousness that are necessary for sexual excitement and sexual pleasure. The adult makes that motion into sex: the ability to be inside myself while I am with another. If, when I am with another, I have to leave myself, stay outside of myself, basically, I can't even culminate. Physiologically, we cannot come if we don't have a moment where we can be completely with ourselves and inside ourselves in the presence of another.
LS: So it’s really holding that dialectic of being both within yourself while also connected.
EP: Yes. But when you talk about intimacy, you need attachment as a precondition for connection. In the realm of desire, separateness is a precondition for connection.
Love needs closeness. Desire needs space.
Love needs closeness. Desire needs space.
LS: Could you give us a practical example from a couple that you’ve worked with of how someone can have both connection and separateness? And what does separateness mean within a relationship?
EP: Imagine the person says, "I turn myself on when I go to the movies alone." Not sexually, right? "I come to life. I connect to my desires in the realm of pleasure"—that broad sense of the word "sex."
Sex isn't something you do. It's a place you go, inside yourself and with another or others. It's a space you enter.
Sex isn't something you do. It's a place you go, inside yourself and with another or others. It's a space you enter. I work in the erotic space, if you want. It's not an act. People have had sex for generations and felt nothing. I am not into promoting people having sex, but having a certain relationship with a certain dimension of your life.

So, if they say, "I like to go to the movies," then the next question will be, "Do you go?" And you will listen to the degree to which they tell you, "It's hard for me to leave," or, "It's hard for my partner when I leave," or, "No, it's just a matter of circumstances. Lately, I haven't had a chance to go, but it's never been an issue for me," or, "When I come back, I'm always worried." The third child I didn't describe is the one who does go, but is constantly looking over his shoulder, making sure that the adult here isn't going to punish him, reject him, become depressed, or collapse on him when he returns.

So the person says, "I don't go often to the movies alone, or listen to music, or play my music for that matter"—or whatever it is—"because when I come home, I experience that anxiety, that knot in my stomach that I'm not going to be told, 'How was it? How wonderful,' or I'm not going to be told, 'Stay out as long as you want. Everything's fine. Enjoy yourself.' I'm going to be told when I leave, 'Again you have to go? When are you coming back? Why are you staying out so late? Why do you not want to go with me?' I'm going to hear comments that basically say, 'Give up your freedom so that I can feel secure.'"

That is a classic transaction in the couple, versus, "I'm happy for whatever it is that you are experiencing elsewhere, even when it has nothing to do with me, because you bring this back, and that makes you a more interesting and alive person that maintains a certain vitality between us."
LS: If we use attachment language, it sounds like you’re trying to cultivate secure attachment.
EP: Yes, and a secure attachment for me isn't a singular experience: there is not always just one person to whom we turn. And I think it's a difference in culture. There are loads of places in the world that are more likely to think that your partner is the person with whom you experience parts of your life, while friends and family provide the existence of multiple safe harbors.
LS: So secure attachment for you is about feeling securely attached in the world, in your life, but not exclusively attached to one person. That’s a big difference.
EP: Right. The enshrinement of the modern couple is connected to the exclusiveness. I don't think we are more insecure today than we were before, but I think
We bring all our security needs to one person, and then we blame them for whatever is missing in our lives.
we bring all our security needs to one person, and then we blame them for whatever is missing in our lives. God forbid you have conversations with others that you should be having with your partner, because that becomes an emotional infidelity. The system is rigged with injunctions against leaving the relationship in any way possible—not just in sexual terms.

A Vibrant Field Has Multiple Voices

LS: How are you finding your ideas are holding up in our Western culture? Are other therapists embracing them, or is there a push back that you’re finding when you teach?
EP: I think that a vibrant field is a field that has multiple voices. When I wrote my book, it wasn't written for professionals. I did not think that it was going to become one of those voices—that it would be embraced in the couples and sexuality fields, as it has by some. I'm happy that it is one of the many voices. One of the things that you get when you work cross-culturally, as I do, is that every time you hear a truth in one place, you know that another place is thinking of it completely differently. The pacifier, the baby's bed, the baby's crying don't mean the same thing in every culture. And it's very refreshing to be located in a much more multicultural, nuanced, nonjudgmental, relative way of thinking. It works for me.

I think that there are people who have difficulty with what I talk about, and there are people who find a tremendous sense of affirmation in what I talk about—this is how they have been thinking, and they've been looking for that approach. I'm glad to be part of the conversation, and I'm glad to be a stimulant in the conversation.
LS: You're certainly that, and it is very refreshing. It's almost like you're bringing that multicultural perspective of relationships into a multicultural perspective of how to do therapy, as well—how to hold and look at a relationship and embrace different perspectives
EP: I think that romanticism has appeared in every part of the world, even in very traditional cultures. And wherever romanticism has appeared, people are investing more in love than ever before, and divorcing more in the name of love—or the disillusions of love—than ever before. And
I think that wherever romanticism has appeared, there's a crisis of desire.
I think that wherever romanticism has appeared, there's a crisis of desire.

Originally, I wrote my book from the perspective of a European therapist observing American sexuality. I started the original article during the Clinton and Lewinsky scandal because I was very intrigued as to why this society was so tolerant towards divorce—you can divorce three, four times without much stigma these days—but it was very intransigent towards any transgression or infidelity, whereas the more traditional family-oriented world had always compromised towards infidelity (a burden carried primarily by women, I should add), in the name of preserving the family, and separated the well-being of the couple from the well-being of the family.

I had no idea that I would be going to 20 countries on book tour. In the process, I began to realize that a crisis of desire was nothing unique to this country. It is really part of the romantic model and the changing meanings of sexuality in modern committed relationship.

But there are some unique features to this culture that have to do certainly with its relationship to sexuality. First, it's a society that often relates to sexuality as smut or sanctimony, titillation on the one side, and condemnation on the other side. It vacillates between extremes.

Second, it's a society that has certain views about transparency, and about transparency as essential to intimacy: wholesale sharing, telling it all, being explicit, not beating around the bush. I think that this is a society that looks at honesty from the point of view of a confession. Minimal tolerance for ambiguity and the imponderables is what makes American business great, but it's not necessarily what other cultures bring into the private sphere.

Keeping Secrets

LS: You’re saying that the emphasis on complete transparency and honesty actually gets in the way of creating a vital relationship?
EP: I think that one should know that, while it is obvious in some cultures, like here, that if I can tell you everything then we are closer, there are other cultures—sometimes your own neighbors—who actually think that the ability to maintain privacy is what enhances intimacy, and not necessarily transparency.
LS: It’s a big difference.
EP: It’s a difference. And I think each one evolves in its own context. But it’s very refreshing to know that there is a whole other way of looking and thinking out there that totally throws off what you take for granted. Working in New York City, I get people from 15 countries coming into my office. I practice in many languages. I cannot assume that that a couple who came at nine o’clock and wants to tell each other everything is the same as the couple who comes at ten o’clock with a completely different notion of boundaries, individual space, the mandate for sharing, the hegemony of the word as a form of intimacy, gender structures, power dynamics, and so forth.
LS: The policy of not keeping secrets within the couple is also widely held among therapists here. I’m wondering if you have a different perspective. As a therapist, do you have the same policy that many therapists have of not holding secrets?
EP: There is a clear hierarchy of secrets. There is only one particular secret that therapists really grapple with in terms of credibility, ethics, and mode of working. If you tell your therapist that you have had a miserable sexual relationship with your partner for years, that you’ve been faking it forever, that you can’t stand his smell, or her looks, or whatever it is, you rarely will hear a therapist say, “Either you need to tell your spouse, or you have to go to individual therapy.” That’s also a big sexual secret. I cannot imagine a partner one day after 27 years finding out that their wife or their husband has been lying and faking to them all these years. They’d be no less crushed. But somehow that one doesn’t do it. It is really any one of the secrets in the range of the infidelity spectrum. And even if you raided your bank account, a therapist would not usually say, “If you don’t tell, I can’t start working with you.”
LS: So you have more of a subjective stance to the issue of whether or not full transparency between your clients is ultimately serving them.
EP: I think it needs to be examined. Sometimes it's dangerous. In the field of infidelity, I would align myself very much with the work of Janis Spring, Michele Scheinkman, Tammy Nelson, or Stephen Levine, who are examining the concept of keeping a secret. Today, in the first session with any couple, I will say, "I will see you as sometimes together and sometimes apart—I don't know how much of each. When I will meet you apart, it's because I think that there's certain conversations that may be better held alone, because you will be less defensive. You will take more responsibility. You will be more able to examine yourself quietly. You won't be in the reactive stance. And those will be confidential conversations, which means that each of you will probably tell me things that your partner may not know. And you will decide at what point you want to share that."

I'm often asked, "What do I do with the secret of infidelity?" I sit with it, because sometimes the secret is the therapy. Or, as Janis Spring says, "Giving up on the secret is the therapy." Then the question is, is revelation mandatory? It is often seen as mandatory here. The concept that intimacy needs to be rebuilt through transparency and revelation doesn't take into account that for some people, revelation may be more traumatic, which then is answered by other people who say, "But, somehow experiencing the trauma is part of rebuilding the relationship." But that's one view.

So I work with secrets. If I agree to work with the couple, I take the couple as it comes to me. It's not for me to decide what risks people need to take in terms of revealing their secrets. There are major power imbalances in society—major risks involved for women to reveal certain secrets, for instance. I very carefully assess with them what is safe. I've learned that when I go to Cuba, Mexico, and other places, I can't just take transparency as a norm without looking at the political and social implications of gender politics. In that sense, the dominant theories and trends du jour are not as contextual as systemic thinking used to be.
LS: What advice would you give to therapists in looking at their own erotic lives, in terms of how that’s going to affect the way they show up with clients?
EP: There are two levels: the professional and the personal. On the professional level, I think you want to continue to learn, renew yourself, grow. I think it's particularly important for experienced therapists to not stop growing, to not stop listening to other people.

Every time I go to a workshop or a conference, I know that I work differently the week that follows. I am filled up. I am renewed. I'm trying out new things, stepping outside of my own comfort zone. Every time I go and I lecture some place, I ask people, "Has my work grown? Has it changed? Have the ideas matured? I hope I'm not repeating the same thing." At this moment in my work, I have made new choices, different choices than the ones I certainly was trained with—or indoctrinated with, we could say, because they were never questioned.

I also think that it's very important for me, anyway, as a therapist, to read anthropology, history, poetry. The arts are a lot more able to deal with the complexities of love, sex, desire, and transgression than psychotherapy is. The greatest novels, movies, and poems capture the complexities and the contradictions of our life. I strive towards the embrace of the contradictions, or the dialectic, and not necessarily towards the dogma. I tend to work more on the side of art than on the side of science. And to work in the realm of art is to work with the unknown, rather than to want to simplify the known and to make it predictable and organized. I don't have a set model in that sense.

Maybe what people have appreciated about my work is the fact that I am questioning our assumptions. I really don't think I have the truth on things, even though I sometimes sound very confident. But I am willing to ask myself, "Is this the only way? And who says? And must it be this way? And for whom?" The people who come to study with me do so because I'm out of the box, not because they're going to get a nicely structured framework. There are a lot of other important elements to couples' lives, but it happens to be that this existential dimension is the one I have become very interested in. So I write about that.

And personally, make sure you stay alive. Make sure you stay in touch with your own experience of pleasure, of receiving, of giving, of sexuality, of your body. Don't disconnect, or you will bring that into your work, and it doesn't benefit anybody.

Assessing Partner Abuse in Couples Therapy

Mark and Julie were in their late thirties, and had been married for seven years after living together for three. During their initial session with me, they expressed concern that they had been drifting apart over the past year. They were both under considerable stress. Julie’s planned six-month leave of absence from her job following the birth of their son Brandon had now lasted four years. Brandon required lots of Julie’s time: he was highly impulsive, displayed frequent temper tantrums, and recently bit another child at daycare. Mark supported the family as a salesman for a medical equipment firm, but getting along without Julie’s income meant longer hours and more frequent travel.

“We hardly ever have time for each other anymore,” said Mark. “And I’m out of town so often these days that it’s hard for us to readjust when I get home. Julie is always preoccupied, either with Brandon or something else, and our relationship isn’t a priority for her the way it used to be.”

“We don’t communicate well,” added Julie. “We argue about parenting Brandon, about my housekeeping, about Mark’s being gone so much of the time . . .”

“There’s an example of one of our problems,” Mark interrupted. “ I don’t feel like she appreciates how hard I work to support us. Traveling on business is no picnic, I can tell you. I miss being home with my wife and kid.”

To most outward appearances, this was a couple caught in the typical dilemmas of our age: how to balance work and home life, how to be both parents and intimate partners, how to get one’s own needs met while meeting the needs of the other.

Mark and Julie had been in conjoint therapy twice before; each stint had lasted about one and a half years. Their first therapist, they told me, helped them understand how their relationship replicated themes from childhood. A couple of years later, when their arguments grew more frequent, they decided to try a new therapist. Mark liked their new therapist’s pragmatic approach and appreciated learning how to make “I statements” and practicing reflective listening. Mark felt that he had finally gotten through to Julie about his concerns. Julie agreed that the therapy had been helpful, but wasn’t willing to continue because there was too much focus on Mark’s concerns and not enough on hers.

When I asked Mark and Julie how they argued, they reported that Mark frequently raised issues in an angry way. Julie would withdraw, and Mark would press for resolution. She sometimes burst into tears during these encounters, and he saw this as her way to avoid addressing his concerns. Yet they both reported that their arguments “never get physical.”

Over the next few sessions, I gave Mark and Julie typical homework assignments. We discussed taking time-outs when their interactions grew too heated. We reviewed and practiced reflective listening skills. They voiced an appreciation about each other every day. And despite difficulty finding a babysitter who could handle Brandon, they managed to schedule two “date nights” over the next two weeks.

I did not yet realize it yet, but I was making the same error as their two previous therapists: I was attempting to do couples therapy with an abusive relationship.

Obligation to Assess

Many therapists, including those of us with extensive clinical experience, frequently plunge into doing therapy before we have adequately assessed whom and what we are treating. It is in the nature of the therapist-client relationship that we cannot know the whole story from the outset. Our clients may be lost, confused, withholding, or in denial. They aren’t ready to divulge everything at a first session (and if they were, we would probably wonder why). In the cause of establishing a working alliance, we leave avenues of assessment unexplored until a more opportune moment. Assessment and treatment necessarily walk hand in hand as the ongoing process of discovery and healing unfolds.

However, none of this relieves us of the ethical and professional obligation to carefully assess factors that may undermine treatment. “Sometimes we collude with our clients’ denial systems, deliver services that are misdirected or even harmful, and allow problems to get worse, under the guise of providing treatment.” Meanwhile, our clients continue to believe they are getting help, and we continue to collect our fees. Whether the undiagnosed problem is addiction, bipolar illness, domestic violence, or some other weighty issue, part of our job is to make educated guesses and follow up on them.

One error I encounter with troubling frequency is the failure of couples therapists to assess adequately for partner abuse. By partner abuse, I mean the use of force, intimidation, or manipulation—or the threat to use any of those methods—to control, hurt, or frighten an intimate partner. Note that the definition can be met even if no physical violence is involved. Verbal and psychological tactics are more common; frequently, they are also more effective at controlling, hurting, or frightening another, and they can be more emotionally damaging in the long run.

I have met with couples whose seasoned therapists, over the course of several years’ treatment, missed the extent and severity of the physical and emotional abuse taking place at home. We might be tempted to believe that clients bear some responsibility for staying silent on the issue (whether out of fear or outright denial), but the obligation to assess rests firmly on our shoulders. For example, an abused partner may feel unsafe bringing up abuse in the presence of the other because of likely retaliation, yet many therapists have a policy of never meeting separately with one member of a couple they are treating jointly.

Regardless of the reason for the assessment failure, the tragic result can be months or years of continued abuse. “Suffering” is a pallid word to describe the soul-damaging, spirit-deadening impact of ongoing abuse on the abused partner and the children who live with it. The corrosive nature of some abuse leads to an erosion of the self that can be extremely difficult to reverse. The effects are cumulative and must stop before healing can begin. Additionally, abuse generally grows worse without intervention. Meanwhile, clients incur a sizable expenditure of time and money, and the therapist (and, by extension, our profession) loses credibility.

Common Misconceptions

Several common misconceptions hamper or prevent an adequate assessment of partner abuse.

“The couple report that they yell at each other, so they both contribute to the problem.”
Loud arguments should always suggest the possibility of partner abuse. Most abusive relationships involve some angry behavior by both parties; some involve mutually abusive behavior as well, although the degree of fear is generally much greater for one partner than the other. While both partners are responsible for their own behavior, one of them probably contributes disproportionately to the abuse.

“I spoke to them about partner abuse and they deny it is going on.”
As therapists, we know better than to accept clients’ analyses of their difficulties and to probe more deeply. “If an angry client reports that he believes in firm discipline but would never abuse his children, do we simply take his word for it?”

“It is my policy never to meet individually with clients I see in couples therapy.”
Adequate assessment for abuse cannot be accomplished with both partners in the room. Asking directly about abuse in a conjoint session puts the abused partner in a no-win position: to disclose and risk reprisal, or to deny and thereby avoid getting needed assistance.

“I have a ‘no secrets’ policy, so clients know that anything they share with me individually will be brought into the couples session.”
In my view, such a policy is designed to relieve the therapist’s anxiety and hinders rather than helps the client. As therapists, we often learn things we cannot or choose not to divulge. Holding some information in confidence is a small price to pay if it allows us to leverage our clients into the right form of treatment.

“Even if there is undiagnosed partner abuse, I’m helping them resolve the underlying relationship dynamic.”
By its very nature, abusive behavior prevents the resolution of other issues. Abuse skews the relationship dynamic and leaves most of the power and control in one partner’s hands.

“I can teach them better communication skills until they trust me enough to disclose the issues they are withholding.”
Abusive partners easily subvert communication skills at home. “I” statements are meaningless if the intent is to hurt, control, or manipulate.

“I’m not taking a stand on the issue because I’m afraid the abusive partner will bolt from treatment.”
Again, the delusion here is that some treatment is better than none. What is needed is a referral to appropriate treatment, rather than maintaining the fiction that the couple is getting help while the abuse continues.

An Abusive Dynamic

At their next session, Mark and Julie reported that their second planned date night had started out well. They ate dinner at a quiet restaurant, reminisced affectionately about the first time they met, and held hands as they shared a frozen yogurt. Brandon was asleep when they got home, even though it was still relatively early. When they went to bed, Mark anticipated they would make love; Julie was tired and just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. Mark persisted, saying that this was the only chance they’d had for sex in a while so they’d better take advantage of it. Julie said she was tired of his “guilt trips.” He said she was frigid and accused her of withholding sex to punish him.

They had carried on late into the night as the argument broadened to include many other areas of disagreement. The conflict continued in my office the next evening.

” . . . And I appreciate how hard he works to support us,” Julie was saying. “But when he gets back from a business trip, he’s constantly finding fault with the way I keep the house, the things I wasn’t able to get to. He thinks I’m too soft with Brandon and that’s why he’s been acting up at daycare. It’s true that I could do a lot better job of housecleaning, and I paid the credit card late last month. My hands are so full with Brandon that everything else seems to take second place. I know I need to get better at setting priorities, like Mark says, but I feel like I’m doing the best I can and I wish he appreciated how hard my job is.”

Mark was restless but listened quietly while Julie spoke. When it was his turn, he spoke quickly, with increasing agitation and volume.

“She talks about not being appreciated. Well, she doesn’t do a very good job of appreciating me. I work really hard to support us at this level, and you’d think I could at least come home to a house that didn’t look like a bomb hit it. And Brandon is out of control because she doesn’t know how to set limits with him. He never acts up with me the way he does with her. Plus, she has the entire day to spend at home and take care of the things I can’t get to because I’m out of town. Brandon’s in daycare now, and she has so much free time to get together with her girlfriends for coffee . . .”

“Now, wait just a minute!” said Julie angrily. “That only started a couple of weeks ago!”

“No, you wait a minute!” replied Mark in a louder voice. “I don’t appreciate your angry tone, and I didn’t interrupt you when you were talking. I’d appreciate it if you could show me the same respect!”

“It’s hard to sit still while you misrepresent things,” she said petulantly, slumping in her chair.

“There you go again. When I give my point of view, I’m misrepresenting things. “ He turned to me. “You see how this goes. She never seems to respect my opinion. Everything I say, she counters it.” He raised his voice. “She treats me like she doesn’t even like me anymore! Ever since Brandon came along, our sex life has gone out the window. She always has something else on her mind, or she’s too tired, or I don’t know what.”

“Maybe if you treated me with more respect, I’d feel more like getting close to you,” Julie replied softly.

“See, there you go again. It’s always my fault!” said Mark. “We disagree on so many things, I’m really not sure what’s keeping us together anymore!”

There was a pause. Mark’s face grew darker and his brow furrowed as he spoke. The skin around Julie’s temples grew taut and her shoulders sagged.

“Tell me, is this kind of how things go at home?” I asked. “You start to talk about an issue, and things escalate? Mark, you seem angry and frustrated, and Julie, you seem angry and resigned. I can see that there are a number of issues on the table. But I’m wondering if I’m getting to see how your efforts at communication get off track. Is this how things go when they don’t go well?”

They answered simultaneously. “Pretty much,” said Mark. “This is mild by comparison,” said Julie.

“So what would typically happen at this point?” I asked.

“Mark usually kicks something, then leaves the room,” said Julie, hands crossed over her chest.

“Oh, really? What about you turning on the water works, then giving me the cold shoulder and playing the Ice Queen for three days?” said Mark, pointing his finger at her. “You left that part out. As usual!”

“OK, hold on a moment, both of you,” I said. With ten minutes left in the session, I felt the need to intervene, based on the growing escalation, the content and tone of the communication, and Mark’s increasing impulsiveness. I also feared that their disagreements were severe enough that continuing to talk about them would result in yet another argument as they left my office.

“There’s been a lot of heat expressed in this office today, and I’d like you both to cool off before you leave. I want you both to take a few nice deep breaths, s-l-o-w-l-y. Good. I want you to drop this argument, and I want you to agree not to talk anymore about these issues today.” We spent a few minutes addressing the difficulties they might experience in keeping to this agreement.

It was now clear to me that this couple was caught in an abusive dynamic. Mark had initially given the impression that he was listening to Julie, but he shifted restlessly as she spoke; when she finished, he responded quickly with an increasingly angry and critical tone. He blamed her for their problems and employed various strategies—such as exaggeration, distortion, and counterattack—to deflect any suggestion that he might also bear some responsibility for their difficulties. When Julie attempted to correct his misrepresentation of her coffee dates, he turned the tables by attacking her for the interruption and accused her of having less respect for him than he had for her. Mark felt free to express his anger but could not tolerate Julie expressing hers. He accused her of employing the very tactics he used (for example, “Everything I say, she counters it”). Mark demeaned Julie for the upset feelings she experienced following his angry outbursts and her subsequent need to pull away.

By contrast, Julie recognized some of her contributions and validated many of Mark’s concerns. Her brief efforts to defend herself were quickly overwhelmed by Mark’s responses. Her petulant tone and slumped posture were signs of defeat.

Indicators of Partner Abuse

Like Mark and Julie, clients in abusive relationships present with typical complaints: “We don’t know how to communicate with each other.” “We’ve been arguing a lot.” “We’re both under a lot of stress.” “We’ve needed counseling for a long time and he/she finally agreed.” “We disagree about disciplining the children.” Usually, their level of intimacy has declined.

More telling indicators are embedded in the relational dynamic that emerges in the consulting room. There may be unexplained tension in the room; certain topics appear to be off limits. “There may be a marked difference in the way and the degree to which each partner participates in the session.” The abusive partner may always start the session or, alternatively, always make the abused partner begin. One partner may be highly critical and judgmental, or exercise control through silence, intimidation, and manipulation. The other may speak hesitantly and haltingly—or, alternatively, may be hostile, resentful, and angry, seemingly out of proportion to the subject under discussion.

They may disagree on basic facts and have widely divergent views of the same events. Frequently, both partners are highly defensive and misconstrue what the other says, as though looking for an opportunity to act angry or hurt. They report or exhibit destructive communication patterns, such as escalation, invalidation, or a demanding/withdrawing dynamic. Impulse control may be poor. Problem-solving and conflict resolution skills are lacking.

Any of these symptoms are sufficient to raise suspicions of partner abuse. Alternatively, many abusive relationships present as typical relationships with occasional heated arguments that both parties have come to see as the necessary though undesirable price of an intimate partnership.

Assessment Protocol

When a couple comes to see me specifically because of my expertise in treating partner abuse, I typically employ a four-session protocol. I meet once with the couple, once separately with each partner, and then once more with the couple (or twice, if I need to gather further information or test hypotheses) to deliver my recommendations.

Alternatively, a couple like Mark and Julie may come to see me because they’re having difficulties and have decided to try therapy, and I might not begin to suspect partner abuse until they have seen me a few times. When I recognized the abusive dynamic in Mark and Julie’s relationship, I said to them:

“I think it would be helpful for me to set up an individual appointment with each of you so that you can share your concerns without having to worry about the other person’s reactions. I frequently do this in couples therapy, and given the volatility of today’s session, now seems like a good time.”

With an even more highly volatile couple, I might say something as innocuous as:

“During the last several sessions, I’ve had a chance to see how you interact with each other. As part of our work together, and in order to get to know you better, I’d like to schedule an individual appointment with each of you. I want to find out more about you, your childhood, family history—that sort of thing.”

I wait until the individual sessions to address the issue of confidentiality and “secrets.” With Mark and Julie, I began their separate sessions this way:

“This is a rare opportunity to get together with you, and I’m wondering if there’s anything you’d like me to know that you’re not comfortable saying with your partner in the room? If it’s something you want to tell me in confidence, I can keep it to myself. If it’s something I think would be helpful to discuss in a joint session, I’ll let you know that today, but I won’t disclose anything you don’t want me to.”

I also tell each partner that I would like to ask a series of questions about the kinds of behaviors that have occurred in their relationship. With the abusive partner, I am especially interested to learn whether similar behavior has occurred in any previous relationships, because it counters the common belief that the current partner is in some way responsible for the abuse. For this purpose, I use my own Abusive Behavior Inventory, an abridged version of which is included at the end of this article. I frequently supplement the specific questions on the inventory by inquiring about the first, last, and worst conflicts the couple has had.

Choice of Assessment Tools

To develop the Abusive Behavior Inventory, I spent one dreary weekend reflecting on all the variations of spousal abuse I had encountered during several years’ clinical experience and incorporated them with similar questionnaires employed at two agencies where I worked. I also referred to Patricia Evans’s The Verbally Abusive Relationship: How to Recognize It and How to Respond (Bob Adams, Inc., 1992) and Ann Jones and Susan Schechter’s When Love Goes Wrong: What to Do When You Can’t Do Anything Right (Harper Collins, 1992). An instrument similar to mine is R. M. Tolman’s Psychological Maltreatment Inventory (see “The development of a measure of psychological maltreatment of women by their male partners,” Violence and Victims 4 (3): 159B177, 1989).

I do not employ the self-administered Conflict Tactics Scale, developed and revised by noted researchers Murray Straus, Richard Gelles, and Susan Steinmetz. Despite broad acceptance as a research tool, it has numerous shortcomings in a clinical setting. For example, it measures violence only during the preceding 12 months, even though just one violent incident from many years ago may still be casting a shadow over the relationship. It does not ask whether the violence occurred in self-defense. And it equates acts that are inherently unequal due to men’s generally greater physical size and strength and women’s generally greater level of fear that men’s anger will erupt into abuse.

Using the Abusive Behavior Inventory in the individual interview allows me to uncover whether a pattern of abusive or controlling behaviors exists. This is accomplished best in the context of a clinical interview, for two principal reasons. First, clients provide much more information—factual, psychological, and emotional—than they would with a self-administered questionnaire. Second, clients may be so disturbed by their answers that they need an opportunity to process their reactions.

Comparing their answers side by side is an exceptionally useful diagnostic tool. Couples who corroborate each other’s answers generally exhibit greater awareness of problems in their relationships and are more often motivated to do something about them.

Suspicions Confirmed

As I suspected, my individual meetings with Mark and Julie revealed a long-standing pattern of moderate partner abuse. Despite their earlier contention that their arguments “never get physical,” on several occasions Mark had prevented Julie from leaving the room during an argument by standing in the doorway. Once or twice, he had slapped her shoulder as she walked away. He had grabbed her wrist a few times, in one instance hard enough to leave a bruise. He had also thrown several television remote controls and a cell phone when angry, and he frequently punched walls and slammed doors.

Mark sometimes used what he had learned in couples therapy against Julie: for example, by couching frequent critical and demeaning comments using a distorted version of an “I” statement, or by asserting that she was projecting her father onto him. When Julie raised a sensitive subject, Mark frequently got angry, yelled in her face, declared a time-out, stomped out of the room, and never returned to the issue.

Julie reported that her self-confidence had plummeted over the past few years, and she was feeling helpless and hopeless about her marriage. She said Mark had little sympathy for the chilling effect his behavior had on her libido and often criticized her for her infrequent interest in making love.

Recommendations for Treatment

When Mark, Julie, and I came together following my individual sessions with each of them, my recommendations went something like this:

“I have some thoughts about your therapy and where we go from here. We’ve discussed the issues and difficulties you experience together. For example, neither of you feels adequately appreciated, and you both report difficulty getting the other person to recognize and meet your needs. You’re both pretty good about identifying each other’s shortcomings but not so good about identifying your own. And it’s hard for you, even with me in the room, to discuss sensitive issues without getting into a heated argument.

“I think it’s clear to all of us that the two of you need couples therapy. But I think it’s premature at this point. It’s really just a matter of timing. You’re going to be spinning your wheels until you both have a chance to address your own issues. Then you’ll be able to take advantage of what couples therapy has to offer.”

In recommending separate treatment, there is a risk that the abusive partner will accuse the abused partner of having disclosed sensitive or confidential information that led to the recommendation. To minimize that risk, I cite only the behavior I observed or heard about in meeting with the two of them together when explaining my recommendation. If the abusive partner has acknowledged any abusive behavior—and it is extremely rare for the Abusive Behavior Inventory to bring no abusive behavior to light—I will refer to that as well.

In his individual session, Mark confessed that he had grabbed Julie’s arm once and frequently got so angry that he hit things. He also expressed remorse about it and a desire to change. So I added:

“And I appreciate your forthrightness, Mark, in acknowledging that you grabbed Julie’s arm and you don’t like the way you act when you get angry. That’s definitely something I can help you with.”

In the typical abusive heterosexual relationship, I generally refer the man to a men’s group with a focus on partner abuse (one of my own groups, or a colleague’s). I refer his partner to a group for women in abusive relationships. Other options include individual therapy with a therapist who has experience treating partner abuse, and group therapy for abusive women. I generally refer men who are being abused to individual therapy, since groups for this population are rare.

It is important to be resolute about my recommendations prior to the final assessment session so that I keep to them, whether or not the couple finds them acceptable. One or both partners will sometimes attempt to mount a persuasive argument for being seen together, and occasionally one of them will insist on having therapy together or not at all. My express purpose is to send a clear and unwavering message at this stage of treatment that couples therapy is premature—just as I would regarding family therapy with a parent who currently abused the children or who was an active alcoholic.

Arguments for and against conjoint treatment in cases of partner abuse are often heated and polarized among treatment professionals, in a process that runs parallel to the typical dynamics in an abusive relationship. By training and experience, I believe in the paramount importance of holding the abusive partner (or partners) accountable for his or her actions, regardless of what the other partner says or does. In abusive relationships, couples therapy undermines this goal by communicating, either overtly or by implication, that both partners bear some responsibility for the abuse.

There are practical considerations as well. Abusive couples who leave a session with unresolved issues are more likely to erupt afterwards. (I know, because many years ago I heard them yelling outside my office or pealing out in separate cars!) Additionally, conjoint therapy is generally not productive when control issues distort the therapeutic process or when either party fears serious repercussions for speaking the truth.

When is Couples Therapy Indicated?

Before I would consider treating an abusive couple together, they would have to meet several conditions.

  1. Their answers to the Abusive Behavior Inventory match closely.
  2. Past abuse was moderate to mild; currently, abuse is extremely mild or entirely absent.
  3. The couple can adhere to a contract of no further abuse.
  4. The abused partner is safe, unafraid, and able to mobilize resources if needed.
  5. Both partners are motivated for treatment out of a sincere desire to grow and change.
  6. Both partners are willing to be accountable for their behavior, without blaming the other.
  7. The couple can use basic communication skills in a non-manipulative manner.

In short, couples therapy is appropriate when the dynamics of the relationship, not the abuse, is the proper focus of treatment.

I presented Mark and Julie with two choices. They could each seek treatment with other professionals and keep me in reserve as their couples therapist at some future date. Or I could take Mark into one of my men’s groups, refer Julie to another therapist, and help them find a new couples therapist when Julie’s therapist and I thought they were ready. Mark’s reluctance to join a group, much less one led by a different therapist, led us to conclude that the second option was preferable.

Over the next three years, Mark and Julie both participated in group therapy supplemented by short bouts of individual work. I consulted regularly with Julie’s therapist to coordinate our treatment efforts, and we met together with the two of them from time to time to coach the couple through especially difficult logjams. Once Mark had achieved more than six months of abuse-free behavior, he and Julie began working with a seasoned marriage therapist who understood the dynamics of abuse. Julie ended her group work, but Mark remained for another six months because he had discovered that being accountable to other men helped ensure his continued recovery.

Conclusion

Treating partner abuse is a specialized field. Trainings in recognizing and treating the problem are helpful, but the only way to develop real expertise is through direct experience. To that end, I recommend that you become familiar with an assessment tool like the Abusive Behavior Inventory and practice administering it to a few colleagues. As with any new tool you add to your clinical repertoire, the greater your comfort in using it, the more at ease your clients will be.

Then, the next time you suspect partner abuse, you’ll be ready to assess for it. When you do, share your findings with colleagues, a supervisor, or an expert. If you discover your suspicions are groundless, you can breathe a sigh of relief. If your suspicions are confirmed, refer the couple immediately for further assessment, if necessary, and appropriate treatment. The hazard of proving your suspicions incorrect is small compared to the danger of leaving partner abuse undiagnosed and untreated.

In many ways, Mark and Julie experienced an ideal outcome. Their commitment to each other and to the process of change allowed them to leave their abusive dynamic behind. Mark was able to give up his sense of entitlement and develop greater empathy for Julie. Although some emotional scars remained, the damage was not so severe that Julie was unable to reclaim the genuine affection she had once felt for Mark.

But they were lucky: without any of these factors, a divorce was likely. And without appropriate intervention, the probable outcome would have been an uninterrupted, escalating pattern of abusive behavior, accompanied by additional years of unnecessary pain and suffering and the possible transmission of abuse to the next generation.

Turning Blaming into Confiding in Couples Therapy

The defining task in a Collaborative Couple Therapy session is to create an intimate conversation out of whatever is happening—frequently a fight. Sometimes that means helping the partner who has just been accused deal with the accusation. Sometimes, and this is my focus in this write-up, that means reshaping the accusing partner’s angry statement. I speak as if I were that partner, translating his/her blaming statement into a confiding one, in a method similar to doubling in psychodrama. I show what this partner might be saying if the couple was having a conversation rather than this fight. Here are the principles I use for making these translations.

• Change the tone of voice
• Omit the blaming
• Report the blaming
• Add or substitute heartfelt feelings
• Append a question that turns the monologue into a dialogue
• Acknowledge

1. CHANGE THE TONE OF VOICE. If I can’t immediately think of ways to modify a partner’s angry comment, I repeat or paraphrase it, but now in a nonprovocative, nonaccusing, nondefensive, warm, intimate tone. Of course, if I can think of how to modify what was said, I still change the tone. None of the changes listed below would do much good if they were stated in the partner’s original angry, defensive, arrogant, sarcastic, contemptuous, or distant tone.

2. OMIT THE BLAMING. An important way to turn a partner’s fight-fostering comment into a conversation-fostering one is, of course, to omit (or at least reduce) the blaming, accusations, anger, attack. Lynn says to Fred, “You’re selfish, immature, and totally irresponsible to go out to a bar with your office pals after work, and come home late for dinner. You’re probably flirting with what’s-her-name in the next cubicle.” Moving in and speaking for Lynn, I say, “I’m going to restate what you just said but change the tone in order to help you get your message across to Fred. In my version, Lynn, you’d say, ‘I hope you can understand why I might be upset about your going to a bar and coming home late and why, given the situation, I might be imagining all kinds of things like your flirting with other women’.”

3. REPORT THE BLAMING. Another way to eliminate (or at least reduce) the toxic fight-fostering effect of blaming is to report the anger rather than unload it. Bob says angrily to George, “You’re nasty and mean-spirited and never think of anybody but yourself!” I move over and speak for Bob in an effort to show him what it would sound like if he were to talk about the anger rather than from within it. I say for Bob, “I can’t remember when I’ve felt as angry at you as I do now” or “As you can see, I’m still furious about that comment you made this morning” or “At times like this when I’m really angry at you, I forget all that I like about you and just see you in a super negative way.”

The effect of such reporting is to create a platform, a perch, a meta-level, a vantage point above the fray from which Bob confides being angry. Most of the other interventions on this list create such a platform or vantage point.

4. ADD OR SUBSTITUTE HEARTFELT FEELINGS. In a fight, people lose the ability to make “I” statements. They lose contact with their vulnerable, heartfelt feelings and become “you” statement generating machines. In speaking for a partner, I uncover these vulnerable feelings: the wishes, fears, worries, longings, disappointments, self-reproaches, shame, guilt, self-hate, loneliness, and so on. I reveal the “I” statement hidden in the “you” statement. Here, as in other instances in which I guess what the partner might be thinking or feeling, I use information gleaned from earlier in the therapy, label my comments as speculations (saying, for example, “I give myself about a 30% chance of being right”), and check back to see if my guess was correct (“Where was I right and where was I wrong?”). At times I recast much of the partner’s original statement, changing “you” statements to “I” statements. Sometimes, as in the following examples, I append a vulnerable feeling (an “I” statement) to the partner’s attack.

John snaps at Judy, “You’re being selfish thinking of going back to school when you’ve got our kids to take care of, and in this rotten economy. Don’t you ever think of anybody but yourself?” Moving in and speaking for John to Judy, I append “… and I worry that your going to school might be the first step toward your leaving me.”

Sylvia says to Bob angrily, “I’m tired of always being the one who has to manage the family: schedule everything, make all the phone calls, assign all the chores.” In saying “I’m tired,” her comment appears to be an “I” statement. But implied is: “You don’t do your part,” “You take me for granted,” and “You’re selfish and irresponsible.” Moving over and speaking for her to Bob, I add the following clearer underlying “I” statement to what she just said: “I feel lonely” or “I don’t like the kind of person I’ve become in this relationship.”

5. APPEND A QUESTION THAT TURNS THE PARTNER’S MONOLOGUE INTO A DIALOGUE In an effort to make their cases, partners often give little lectures presenting their evidence, making speeches, pronouncements, or indictments. They deliver monologues. I try to turn these monologues into dialogues by appending a dialogue-creating question. Sue expounds on her knowledge of interior decorating and denigrates Phil’s taste in an attempt to prove to him that she should have the larger say in what furniture to buy. Moving over and speaking for her to Phil, I append to what she just said, “What do you think about what I’m saying?” or “Am I convincing you?” or “You probably disagree with most of what I just said. Am I right?” or “Is there any part of what I’m saying that you agree with?”

6. ACKNOWLEDGE. In a fight, each partner argues his/her case and either ignores or refutes that of the other. Neither acknowledges the validity of any of the other’s points or admits weaknesses in his/her own case. In speaking for partners, I do this acknowledging and admitting for them by doing one or more of the following:

• Acknowledge what the other partner has been trying to say
• Agree with parts of it
• Recognize the other partner’s efforts or achievements
• Appreciate the difficult position the other partner is in
• Admit his/her (the person on whose behalf I’m speaking) own role in the problem
• Confide doubts about the validity or fairness of what he/she is saying
• Express concern about how the other partner might hear what he/she is saying

Acknowledge what the other partner has been trying to say. In a fight, each partner feels too unheard to listen, which is what keeps the fight going. In speaking for a partner, I do the listening for him/her. I demonstrate how it would sound if this person were to do a bit of active listening and acknowledge what the other partner has been trying to say.

Judy complains to Bill, “Are you at all aware that you hardly ever talk to me except to complain about things I haven’t done right.” Bill pays no attention to this and, instead, tells her what is on his mind: “You forgot to lock the front door again.” Judy pays no attention to this and, instead, repeats her concern: “That’s all you care about—the front door. What about the fact that we never talk about anything important, like about us?” Bill says, “Keeping the door locked is important. We’ve got a lot of valuable stuff in here. You’ve got to think about that.” Judy says, “I’ll tell you what you’ve got to think about, and it’s that I’m starting to feel closer to my friends than I do to you.” Bill says, “But this is serious. Half the time you don’t lock the door; it’s just luck that we haven’t been robbed.” Judy says, “Speaking of robbed, I feel totally alone in this relationship.” Bill says, “All I’m asking is for you to be a little more careful when you leave the house.” The partners go back and forth repeating their point (because the other appears not to have heard it), paying little attention to what the other is saying.

Moving over and speaking for Judy, I say, “I know you’re worried about my not locking the door, but I can’t listen to that right now because I’m so frustrated that you won’t listen to my concern, which is that we never have intimate conversations.” I could just as easily have moved over and spoken for Bill, saying: “I know you’re saying that I don’t talk enough, but I can’t listen to that right now because I’m so frustrated that you won’t listen to my concern about locking the door.”

Agree with parts of what the other partner has been trying to say. In a fight, neither partner gets the satisfaction of having the other agree with anything. Each partner rebuts or ignores what the other says. In speaking for a partner, I do the agreeing for him/her. “You have a good point that I…and I have a good point that….” Or, “If we weren’t in the middle of a fight, I’d admit to you that you are making some good points.”

Often I turn to one partner and say, “I’m going to repeat what you just said, but begin by agreeing, which would then put you in a better position to make your point.”

Gloria criticizes Ed for being too harsh with the kids. Ed criticizes Gloria for being too lenient. The argument goes back and forth in this way for some time. Moving over and speaking for Gloria, remembering what she had said in a previous session, I say, “You’re right that I can be too soft with the kids. I need to work on that. My concern right now is to get you to consider that maybe you’re too hard on them.”

Paul criticizes Cheryl for something she did. Cheryl’s justification seems to convince Paul, but instead of acknowledging that, he goes on to make another complaint. I say, “Paul, were you feeling at that moment, ‘Okay Cheryl, you convinced me. But it just reminds me of something else I’m upset about, which is that…’”

Recognize (at times even celebrate) the other partner’s efforts or achievements. Sam proudly describes doing what Ann had asked him to do—pay the bills and clean the bathrooms. Ann replies, “Yes, that’s good. It’s about time. You act like you’re still single. You don’t take responsibility.” Moving over and speaking for her talking to Sam, I say, “You obviously paid attention to what I asked for last time. That’s wonderful! I really appreciate it. I hadn’t thought you would. But—and I’ll make this a multiple-choice question, Ann—A, I don’t want to get too excited about it and get my hopes up that the change is permanent, or, B, it’s too small a part of what I want to be really excited about. Ann, is it A or B. Or is it C, something else entirely?” (When I am uncertain what the person is feeling, I often ask such a multiple choice question.)

In her original statement, Ann skipped over Sam’s achievement. I try to show how it might make sense that she did so and how it would sound if she hadn’t done so.

Appreciate the difficult position the other partner is in. In a fight, each partner feels too unempathized with to empathize, too worn down by his/her own struggle to notice that the partner is caught in one, too. In speaking for partners, I do the appreciating, empathizing, and noticing for them.

Sara says to Ralph, “You never stand up for me when your mother pulls one of her numbers.” Ralph says, “Can’t you just do what everyone else in the family does—just accept that that’s how Mom has always been and realize there’s no way to change her.” Hearing this argument, I look for the right time and moment to say for Ralph, “I feel bad that I haven’t protected you from my mother” and for Sara, “I see how you’re caught in the middle.”

Admit his/her own role in the problem. In a fight, each partner blames the other partner for the problem and denies or minimizes his/her part in it. In speaking for a partner, I do the admitting for him/her. “I came home frustrated and took it out on you.” Or, “I overreacted.” Or “I know it didn’t help that I…” Or, “I’m suddenly seeing you as my father, which I know isn’t fair” Or, “I’m feeling hurt, but you have no way of knowing that, because my hurt is coming out as anger.”

Express concern about how the other partner might hear what he/she is saying. In a fight, partners lower their heads and bull ahead without acknowledging that what they are saying is provocative. In speaking for a partner, I do the acknowledging for him/her, often as a kind of prefacing statement. I say, “I know you never like it when I bring this up, and that’s why I mostly keep it to myself, but it’s been really bothering me lately so I need to say something…” or “I know this is a criticism, but I need to say it anyway” or “I’m angry, so I’m probably not saying this in the best possible way” or “I hope you see my distress peering through my anger,” or “This could get us into trouble, but I want to talk about it anyway” or “I wish I could find a way to say it that wasn’t a criticism because there’s something important here that I want to get you to see.”

Admit doubts about the validity or fairness of what he/she is saying. In a fight, partners focus on making their case. They put aside (and often lose awareness of) any doubts or reservations they might have about what they are saying. In speaking for a partner, I reintroduce these doubts or reservations. I say, “I know this isn’t fair, but it’s on my mind so I want to say it anyway and it’s that…” or “I know I’m on shaky ground here because I do the same thing myself, but…” or “I go back and forth between blaming myself for this problem and blaming you and, as you can see, at the moment, I’m deeply into blaming you” or “For a fraction of a second I was pleased by the lovely thing you did—and began to hope that it meant that you’ve really changed—but then I thought, ‘Wait a minute. I’m not going to get my hopes up just to be disappointed again’” or “I know I’m difficult to live with, so I probably don’t have a right to complain about something you do that’s so minor, but here it is…”

In speaking for partners, I try to make their case more effectively than they had been able to do so themselves. I repeat what they had just said but now in a more disarming, engaging, and heartfelt way. At times, I shorten what they have said and at times lengthen it. At times I reformulate what they have said and at other times append something to it. My effort in each case is to restate what the partners have just said in a way that will give them greater satisfaction and that their partner will be better able to hear.

My purpose here was to list the principles I use for arriving at my statements for partners in an effort to turn their blaming statements into intimate ones.
 

Collaborative Couple Therapy With High Conflict Couples

What’s hard, when dealing with high conflict couples, is getting their attention. If they do register your presence, it is to recruit you to their cause, confiding in you conspiratorily, “Look what I have to put up with.” And if they do acknowledge what you say, it is to turn your comments into ammunition against their partners, assuring you, “I do what you’re saying, but he never does.” High-conflict couples attack each other at such high velocity that you don’t have time to think. And you may not get much chance to talk, either, if, as sometimes happens, they keep interrupting you. Here are various methods I have heard therapists use to deal with these couples:

1. Take control from the beginning by doing individual therapy with each in turn in the presence of the other or taking them through a structured sequence.

2. Separate the partners. See each individually for a session and then bring them together. Taking it a step further, some therapists tell certain high-conflict couples that they each need a course of individual therapy before even considering couple therapy.

3. Ask them how they met and what originally attracted them to each other. In so doing, you distract them from their fight and introduce something positive.

4. Establish and enforce ground rules such as “no name-calling.” In a videotape of her work with a high-conflict couple, Susan Heitler gave the couple two rules: 1) stop talking when I say to and 2) don’t interrupt when I’m talking to your partner.

5. Tell the partners “hold it” or “stop” or wave you hands between them. Forcefully take command, as does Terrence Real. Or wave off the interrupting partner (Robert-Jay Green does this, but then later adds the wonderful touch of apologizing to the partner he waved off).

6. Confront the partners with the counterproductive nature of their behavior, saying, for example, “Listen to yourself!” or “Blaming doesn’t help” or “Talk about yourself rather than about her” or “Do you want to be right or do you want to be married” or “You’re acting like a couple of three-year olds in a sandbox fighting over a pail and shovel.”

7. Hook them up to a heart-rate monitor and when either partner’s heart rate exceeds one hundred, get them to take a time out. John Gottman came up with this.

8. Interrupt a fight to play back the video of it. John Gottman and Stan Tatkin do this.

9. Pick up a book and tell them you’ll stop reading when they stop fighting and get down to business.

10. Tell them that things are going too fast for you to think. Rather than blame them for doing something wrong, you take responsibility for the need to slow things down.

11. Move in quickly when things suddenly erupt and say “What just happened?” Susan Johnson does this.

You have to be forceful when dealing with high-conflict couples who interrupt each other and interrupt you and thus make therapy difficult. My way is forcefully to enter on the side of both partners and develop what they are trying say rather than to confront them with the counterproductive nature of their behavior and urge them to restrain themselves.

Why do I want to develop what the partners are trying to say? Because anger is typically a fallback measure, in EFT terms a secondary emotion. It’s what you’re often left feeling when you can’t express what you need to say—you lose your voice—or when you can express it, but you can’t get your partner to listen. In a couple fight—and this is the definition of such a fight—there are two people who feel too unheard to listen.

So I try to get the partners to listen to each other. I try to show them how it would sound if they were to express what they needed to say and take in what the other is trying to say. I move over and speak for them, in a method similar to doubling in psychodrama. I try to turn their fight into an intimate conversation.

And I do something else. I try to shift the partners to the meta-level—what I call the platform—and get them talking collaboratively about their fight. I want to get them commiserating with each other about it.

So these are the things I try to do with high conflict couples (and, actually, with any couple):

  • Help them express what they need to say,
  • Help them take in what the other is trying to say
  • Create this platform.

There is a natural sequence of things I do in my effort to accomplish these purposes.

The first is to catch the fight in its early stages before it builds up steam. If I see the emotional temperature rising or if one of the partners lets loose a zinger, I jump in. If George says something angry to Rose, I move next to him and, doubling for him, that is, speaking as if I were he talking to Rose, I say, “As you can tell, I’m angry and that’s because I felt hurt by what you just said.” I turn his angry comment into a confiding one. If I can’t think of how to do this, I repeat some version of what he said but in a nonangry tone. Alternatively, I might help Rose deal with what George has said by asking her, “How much does what George just said seem an accusation and how much an understandable concern?”

If I’m unable to catch the fight before it starts and it really gets going, I try to translate the fight into a conversation—that’s number 2. I go back and forth between the partners, doubling for each in turn, trying to detoxify each person’s comments. This can go on for some time. Sometimes the fight goes too fast for me to keep up with. When that happens, I wait until I regain my bearings and then go back over what they just said, but detoxifying it (“first you said…, then you said…., then you said….”). I bring out the conversation hidden in their fight.

Third, if I am unable to translate the fight into a conversation, I make a statement for each showing how each partner’s position makes sense. “Jim, it’s understandable that you don’t like Brenda’s bringing up something you did 20 years ago. It makes you feel she’ll never let you live anything down. And Brenda, it’s understandable that you’re bringing it up because it’s the clearest example of what you feel Jim continues to do in more subtle ways today.”

If I fail to get the partners to appreciate how each of their positions make sense, I try to get the partners up on a platform—a meta-level—talking collaboratively about how they are being adversarial. That’s number four: talk about the fight:

  • I ask, “Are you getting something from this fight, a chance to say a few things or hear a few things? Or is this fight discouraging, what happens at home, and what you came to therapy to stop?”
  • Or I ask, “In what ways is this fight useful and in what ways is it not so useful?”
  • Or I ask, “You came in today feeling relatively good about each other, but little by little the good will disappeared and now you’re quite upset with each other. Do either of you have any idea of what brought about this shift?”
  • Or I ask, “What should we do about this fighting? Should I step in more quickly to stop it?”
  • Or I ask, “Am I doing my job in keeping things safe? Or am I allowing too much fighting.”

While I am doing all these other things, I look out for and focus on conciliatory moments. That’s number five. I say, “Hey, I want to go back to what happened just a minute ago. You made that sweet comment (or you had that sweet exchange). What allowed that to happen? What were you thinking and feeling just before you said it that led to it?” And to the other partner I say, “How did you feel hearing it?” I’m looking for moments when these fighting partners aren’t fighting—much like a narrative therapist or solution-focused therapist looking for an exception. At other times I try to create a conciliatory moment. When one of the partners says he or she feels lonely or disappointed, I harken back to earlier in the session, or earlier in the therapy, when the other partner expressed such a feeling. I jump at the chance to show that they share a particular reaction.

Turning now to the situation in which one (or both) partners makes long provocative statements, either repeating (belaboring) a complaint or stacking complaints one upon the other,  I try to find a collaborative way to interrupt them. That’s number six: “interrupt tirades in a collaborative manner.”

  • I say, “I’d like to interrupt you here because I’m afraid that we’re losing Linda; she seems to be sinking deeper and deeper into the couch”
  • Or “Let me interrupt you here to find out how Linda is doing hearing this”
  • Or “I’d like to interrupt you here because you’re making some important points but I’m concerned that they are getting lost; I’d like to repeat them and then get a response to each from Lois.”
  • Or, “In the last couple of sessions things got pretty intense when one of you laid out a number of complaints in a row, so I think when that happens this session that I’ll move in and interrupt so we can have more of a conversation. What do you think about my doing that?”
  • Or I move in after a partner has made one or two points (or has made one point but has repeated it several times) and before he or she can repeat it again or go on to make the next point and I say, “Let me work with that; you’re saying that…” Or, more simply, “Okay, so you’re saying…” or “Let me interrupt here.”

If all these various efforts fail to rein in the fight, and I feel overwhelmed and powerless and don’t know what to do, I give myself a little pep talk—that’s number seven: “Console myself.”

  • I remind myself that although I don’t know what to do at the moment, I’ve always in the past been able to come up with something a little later.
  • Or I remind myself that partners who appear to ignore or reject everything that I and their partners say, often come to the next session having made changes that show that they had heard, but just weren’t in a position at the time to acknowledge it.
  • Or I remind myself that partners who fight the whole session sometimes come to the next session saying, “We needed that—a chance to let off steam. We feel better now.”

If it looks like the session is going to end with the partners angry at and alienated from each other, I talk with them about that. That’s number eight: appealing to the partners as consultants in evaluating and dealing with the situation.

  • I say, “Given what’s happened here today are you sorry you came?”
  • Or “What does a session like this leave you feeling about what we are doing here and whether these sessions are helping or just making things worse?”
  • Or “It looks like you’re going to end the session feeling angry and alienated. Is there anything either of you can think to do in this last couple of minutes to change that, or is it something that we shouldn’t even try to change?”

Another thing I do if it looks like the session is going to end with the partners angry at and alienated from each other is to ask what is going to happen after the session. That’s number nine. I try to create a platform—a vantage point above the fray—from which to speculate about what is going to happen.

  • I say, “Given how upset you are with each other, what is it going to be like driving home together, and tonight, and the next couple of days?”
  • “How are you going to get over this and how long is it going to take?
  • “Who’s the one more likely to reach out to the other?”

By anticipating with them what is likely to happen, I am trying to keep the aftermath of the fight from being the lonely, alienating experience it usually is. The three of us would be talking about it ahead of time. I follow up the next session by asking what did happen—what evolved from last session?

In this next session, I might ask whether they want to return to the issue they were fighting over the previous session? Or do they think that’s a bad idea because doing so will just get them back into the fight? That’s number ten: attempting a recovery conversation—revisiting the issue when they are not upset. If they want to make such an attempt, I guide them through it. And I jump in quickly if it does begin to turn back into the fight. Developing an ability to have recovery conversations is a premier goal of Collaborative Couple Therapy. In a successful recovery conversation, both partner come away feeling that the positions of each made sense.

To put all this together, I move in to keep the fight from happening. If it does happen, I try to turn the fight into an intimate conversation. If I’m unable to do that, I make an elegant statement for each partner showing how his or her position makes sense. If that doesn’t turn the session around, I try to get the partners on the meta-level talking collaborative about their fight. All the while, I draw attention to collaborative moments and interrupt partners (in a collaborative way) when they belabor or amass complaints. At various points in difficult sessions, I console myself. If it looks like the session is going to end with the partners angry at and alienated from each other, I appeal to them as consultants in dealing with this problem and ask what is going to happen after the session. In the next session, and if it is possible to do so without rekindling the fight, I conduct a recovery conversation. A major goal of Collaborative Couple Therapy is to enable partners to have recovery conversations in which they turn fights, problems, misunderstandings, and glitches into opportunities for intimacy.