The chaos in town was almost inexplicable. Only one small cruise ship was in town yet not only was parking tight, but people were both walking and driving erratically – almost as if the lunar eclipse interfered with people's internal navigation systems. One woman – who I think was Greek – stood in the middle of the road by the port frozen like a deer in headlights unable to cross or retreat. Cars stopped on three sides of her and no matter what her husband did, she just stayed there. This created what in Patmos terms was a massive traffic jam at the 405-101 interchange.
I've long been interested in the way people move. Of course there's the element of how we carry ourselves and operate that speaks to us each individually. A friend who went through an MFT program had a professor who told the class he could read their core wounds just by watching them walk into the room. That feels a little Hannibal Lecter-ish. Yet there's obviously truth that we wear a lot of signs as to who we are.
Then there's the cultural side of how we move – the body language and habits of movement we're culturally/societally conditioned to adopt. When I lived in Taiwan, a friend pointed how many people "shuffled". My reflexive response was to consider him a racist/xenophobic asshole until I observed the world around me for ten minutes and saw what he meant. I also found shopping at Carrefour – the French equivalent of Target or Walmart which expanded into much of Asia – a harrowing experience because instead of calmly walking the aisles, staying to the right when oncoming shoppers approached and generally avoiding collisions as I was used to at home, Taiwanese in a large store behaved more like colliding molecules with particles moving in all kinds of directions – the store practically a giant pinball machine.
A decade later Emily and I began shopping at the Costco in Culver City and I felt a similar sense of chaos to a Taiwanese or Singaporean Carrefour (Singaporeans seem to have similar shopping behavior to Taiwanese – but only in a Carrefour or similar store which I have yet to fully understand). I then realized the Culver City Costco was very diverse with Indian, Chinese, Latino and probably several other immigrant groups of shoppers. They brought their various cultural shopping habits with them with all kinds of rules and forces of habit. Try the Westlake Village Costco and you'll never have a more pleasant and orderly Costco experience.
Around town today I could see the groups of American cruise passengers by how they moved, walked and the way they stared up, down and all around with a sense of wonder like people walking the Louvre for the first time. I find it a charmingly American thing that on average, people seem to be enchanted with Skala and want to take it in – perhaps because it's so different than home or maybe it meets their image of what a classic, white Greek town would be like as it did for me 12 years ago. Meanwhile, the French visitors tend to have a more gentle, fluid gait and walk a little closer to one another than Americans. And Greeks – well they seem the most natural here, naturally.
Today's traffic jam-causing woman reminded me a little of Emily who often has some street-crossing anxiety, especially in places where the traffic flow is not familiar to her. In 2010, we got into a spat in Istanbul when I could no longer stand how she was behaving on sidewalks and when crossing traffic. Much like New Yorkers, there's a certain order-within-chaos flow to pedestrian (and probably vehicular) traffic that Istanbullus have. You have to go with it otherwise you're putting yourself and others in danger – and not getting anywhere quickly either. The number of times Emily froze part way through crossing a road, street or driveway drove me up the wall. She felt I was being bossy and paternalistic, I felt she was a public danger and I was performing an intervention on behalf of myself and the people of Istanbul. As often happens in such arguments, Emily quietly processed what I said after-the-fact and began to change her behavior while holding onto her resentment for awhile. I may have had a point, but I had a lot of nerve for making it – which I've come to learn is linked to her extreme sensitivity to criticism stemming from her childhood. To this day, I still feel that had I not done something, she might not have been around to resent me.
Last night I was talking to an older friend who shared some of her perspectives from her almost 40 year marriage. She told me of a set of years that were very rough between she and her husband. Like many stories I've heard, it was when her children were young. Their principle recurring argument was over how she felt they were playing good cop/bad cop with the kids – with her husband being the light, easy good cop. He felt she was being unreasonable hard and was a formidable, heavy force with her children. She felt he was being irresponsible and putting her in the position of disciplinarian and grounding force that she didn't enjoy. She needed a better distribution between them – and to have him "pick up the slack." He told her that he just couldn't join her in "ganging up against the kids."
My friend came to a point where she realized there was nothing she could do that would change him – he was just who he was.
"So, instead I did a LOT of work on myself. I mean a LOT of work. Because that was my only choice if I wanted to stay married and I love this man for so many reasons. So I did the work to allow him to be him."
I thought it extraordinary to see an educated (PhD) liberal, successful American woman made that choice. So many marriages might have ended in divorce right there. She's a feminist and strong minded person – who decided to take herself on when she was upset with her spouse. Her feeling is that a key part of marriage is accepting each other's "idiosyncrasies" as she and her husband call them. More significantly, she believes a strong and successful marriage involves each person getting to be themselves and she had run up against a key piece of who her husband is.
"In the end, there's nothing to fight about. There's just nothing to fight about," she concluded.
In other words, we have only ourselves and our expectations to wrestle.
Our couples therapist would like that statement. One of the basic tenets of Imago therapy – which was our therapist's thing – is that we're trying to get from our partners what we most likely didn't get enough of in childhood. Some people want more attention and affection because they didn't feel seen or nurtured as children. Others want a partner who is more understanding through space and patience – allowing them to just be makes them feel loved.
Frequently, the very things we most love about our partners at the beginning of a relationship are the same things that most bother us later. For example, my attentiveness was charming to Emily at the beginning and became suffocating to her later. I didn't really change – but over time attentiveness changed from symbolizing care to oppression and constriction because it ran up against her need to have space and not be so carefully watched and analyzed as she was growing up. Going the other direction, Emily's chutzpah – her willingness to boldly go after what she wanted in a way that I might not have – was impressive and delightful. She could bargain and get an outcome I wouldn't have thought possible. Eventually, when turned on me, that felt invasive, unboundaried and disrespectful. Emily never really changed – just my assessment did.
My friend said "there's nothing to fight about" which left me wondering – what do we fight about? Or to borrow from Carrie Bradshaw, "What are we fighting for?"
It seems to me that aside from some strictly situational or clean-cut things like "we should stay with the house and water the roof" vs "we should evacuate immediately" in the face of a fire – or "you're a crazy, abusive bastard" vs "I'm sorry baby, I'll quit drinking and I won't hurt you again" – we fight for two things: having our expectations met and being accepted. In other words, I might have expected to find more care and concern when I'm hurt or sick and that when I set a boundary, Emily could understand why that's important to me and accommodate. She probably expected me to accommodate no matter what – like if she didn't feel like cleaning up my vomit when I was sick – and to know better than to critique how she navigated the streets of Istanbul – she's an adult and if that's how she does it, it's hers to do that way.
But really, these seemingly two things are just opposite sides of the same coin – the needs of our psyches. My partner can help me tend and heal my core wounds by giving what I need (meeting my expectations) and adjusting his/her/their expectations to me (accepting me as I am).
For Emily, I meet her needs, but don't fully accept her as she is. For me, Emily comes a lot closer to accepting who I am than meeting my needs. And there's the vicious circle.
Going with my friend's perspective, staying with Emily means adjusting my expectations. I would need to let go of expecting or hoping for care in a moment of need. I would need to decide what care means to me, why I am so stuck on it and if I can truly release that need in favor of accepting Emily for who she is. I would need to do the same with love symbols. I am touch oriented – Emily is not, or doesn't want to have to be. I would need to come to believe she truly loves me and shows it in other ways – and to genuinely find satisfaction in those other ways.
These are tall orders. Perhaps the problem has been that I have been willing to let go of my objections and critiques – to make no issue when she doesn't meet my needs and expectations – but it's clear I still have them. Disappointment still washes over my face. Loneliness can be palpable. To go the distance my friend's way – I would have to truly change internally. That begs the question – do I want to? Are those the things I can be truly okay giving up? What does that mean for my life? Is that a change worth making?
It would be hard to answer "yes".
On the very same night, someone else commented on my post from two days ago, The Ambiguous Heart Of Curiosity, where I wrote, "it's possible I took a risk on love and lost." She offered another perspective that it's possible to look at the past 14 years as a part of my life that had many wonderful journeys and which resulted in two beautiful children and many wonderful memories. Perhaps it's not a "loss" but maybe not entirely what I expected or sought. Maybe it was a great thing for its season?
I realized I might have said the same thing to someone else in my situation. It makes perfect sense and is a healthy way to frame things. At the same time, something inside me resisted with all its might – which is usually a sign of something to really examine.
I thought of it almost like the Disney movie, Inside Out which very smartly makes characters out the various feelings (Joy, Disgust, Anger, Fear, Sadness, Jangles, Forgetter, Subconscious Guards, etc) and psychological processes of a little girl. It was a major departure in direction for Disney and a very interesting way to talk to children about their feelings and self-regulation.
I wondered who in me is resisting and why? It was Injustice which is a close cousin of Anger and Sadness. Injustice doesn't like that Emily got care and didn't give care. Injustice doesn't like how I kept promises and Emily didn't. Injustice bemoans how Emily sat of a foundation of security throughout our relationship including when she decided she didn't want to be married anymore – and I didn't enjoy that same security.
Through this little exercise that has a strange resemblance to Sybil, it becomes clear that I may not have lost, but I didn't win in the way I had wanted. There were qualitative facets of love I wanted for myself that never came. Most importantly – and it's the center of my disappointment – is care. I never expected Emily to be an equal partner in chores and duties to each other – but I had always assumed that if I were sick or hurt that would be an absolute. People can be arguing or nursing grudges, but when someone's health fails or they're in real need, decent people get over themselves and show up. Emily didn't do that.
To a lesser degree, I also never held myself out a "seasons of life" kind of guy. Emily knew what she was getting – a solid, stable, loyal, devoted long-term guy. Just like attentiveness, that was one of the things she initially loved that has become something show now hates. That guy didn't get out of the way, or gracefully let her go when she wanted it. That guy did what he felt was right and fought for the marriage and keeping his family intact. If Emily had ever presented herself as someone who didn't see marriage as a lifelong commitment with deep interpersonal care, I wouldn't have continued the relationship. Maybe she knew that she was more comfortable with divorce and seasons and was afraid to say. Maybe she had never given it any real thought. I can never know.
All of that said, it doesn't make the "seasons of life" perspective wrong – and it's one that would be good for me to adopt. I have wonderful, amazing children, a wonderful set of experiences and memories, and personal growth that may never have happened otherwise and which can parlay me into a better, richer future. Perhaps I didn't take a risk on love and lose, but took a risk on love and was disappointed in several important ways. At the same time, you never know where the story goes and perhaps that risk pays off further – in ways I have yet to realize. I could be happy with that.
My friend who worked on herself for her husband is a very wise person who I really enjoy. She emphasized that while she hopes it doesn't come to it, she recommends divorce with dignity. Even more importantly, she said that letting someone go is a gift we give ourselves. I have come to realize she's right. My holding on and trying to keep things together for the past year and a half hasn't made either Emily or me happier. That doesn't mean I think I made the wrong decision either – because I wasn't ready – nor do I think we could have found something that would have worked for me had I just let go on the spot. Nonetheless, I can't hold back the tide forever nor do I want to be someone who traps another person. I don't have to admire her choices or agree – but for myself if not for Emily – if she wants to end things, I will need to let go.
Because in the end, there is nothing to fight about.
