The Stages of a Conscious Marriage

        (This is a talk that Gerald Drose and I presented years ago...)

We decided to call this talk Conscious Marriage although it's really about

how couples develop and change.  This also happens to be similar to how

individuals develop and change, only being part of a couple allows you to

have support for your development and to be a part of someone else's

development. It's fundamental to know that what relationships are about is

your own personal growth and the growth of your partner, yet there are few

places in our culture or in our lives where we get to really witness or

learn about this process.

        The major theorists writing in the area have identified certain stages that

couple go through and the crises that arise in each stage that must be

successfully negotiated in order for the couple to move on to the next stage. 

        The beginning of a relationship is often referred to as the "bonding

phase."  It is the stage when couples come together in romantic zeal, drawn

together by needs which may be out of each of their  conscious awareness.

The prominent theory for how we pick our life partner is that you are drawn

to someone whose strengths are your weaknesses and whom you unconsciously

hope to learn these things from. They represent the parts of yourself which

are undeveloped.  For instance, we met and fell in love during the latter

part of graduate school.  (Dina talking:) Gerald's attraction to me had

something to do with the fact that I was extremely organized and was well on

my way to finishing my PhD dissertation, working a few hours every day,

making the idea work.

(Gerald talking:) while I was obsessing for hours reading book after book

changing my ideas every month for about a year.  There was a consistent,

organized part of her that worked through frustration without changing her

mind, while I was a perfectionist that was continually searching for the

perfect idea and she was a doer --with a less than perfect idea but a strong

need to be finished.

(Dina talking:) I realize that part of what I was attracted to in Gerald was

a confidence in himself as a professional that I lacked, a belief that he

could enter any complex situation and find a creative solution whereas I

felt young, green and scared of leaving the safety of the student role and

becoming a responsible adult. 

        If you look back on your relationships you can probably identify a  part

that the other person had that you felt you lacked.  This pattern is more

likely to occur the younger the members of the couple are in their personal

development.  It may have been the way he was with friends, or the way she

took care of herself, or his confidence in the work place, or her closeness

to her family.   

        That's why falling in love is often described as feeling like you have

found your other half, that you have become ONE. It is like two half-people

come together, fitting like the two sides of Yin and Yang and you have one

whole circle.  

         Many believe that this feeling defines romantic love, that his person

makes you whole.  This is the illusion of romantic love that has been passed

down through centuries of literature and is now firmly embedded in the

unconscious of us all. The illusion is quite simple--that someone else can

fill that empty part in you. 

        Now you have in front of you the only two people on the planet who have not seen the movie "Titanic."  But from what we've heard about it, it sounds

like one of the reasons it has so captured the hearts of the viewers is that

it portrays this ideal love scenario very effectively--the wealthy,

inhibited, over controlled woman who falls in love with the free, creative,

poor but passionate young man--and this was a love that never moved beyond

the romantic stage and was etched forever in memory as that perfect union.

We'll never know if their relationship would have survived the difficulties

of the real world when they got back on dry land--but we don't even care!

Last night Gerald and I saw "As Good as it Gets"--again, opposites

attracting.  He saw in her the humanity, the possibility for human

connection that he lacked.  It's harder to understand what she saw in

him--but I think he had her the moment he said, "There is no one else who

sees that you are the most incredible woman on the planet." And isn't that

we all fantasize about?  That someone will see the true wonderfulness inside

of us? But again, the movie ends before we ever see them trying to negotiate

the next phase (I'd give them three months, tops).   Hollywood has little

interest in going there--how boring!

        So you have two half-people coming together to form a  whole--and therein

lies the first cost of this stage of a relationship.  While we may convince

ourselves that we will integrate these aspects of or partner into ourselves--or learn from them the things they are good at--in fact after a period of time we seem to quit developing these underdeveloped parts of ourselves because it is so much easier to let the other person do it--besides, they are so much better at it than we are--and sometimes they may even criticize us when we do it (subtly at first, then not so subtly). 

        This is the central conflict of the first phase of  a relationship.  If a

couple comes together because of each person's expertise in a particular

situation, when the other attempts to develop some expertise it can be very

scary to the expert! Experts do not like to feel obsolete or replaceable.

For example, (Dina talking) my role, as the organized one, was to plan and

prepare meals, remembering Gerald's empty refrigerator when I first met him.

If I left town I would cook, freeze and label meals (just as I'd seen my

mother do for my father) convinced that Gerald would starve to death while I

was gone--or worse, go out to eat for every meal while I was gone (as the

organized one I also had to be on top of how we spent money, you see). Here

was an adult man with a son who had never gone hungry or broke before my

arrival.  But my delusion that I was irreplaceable made me feel terribly

needed and special.

         This bonding phase requires the maintenance of the original illusion.  I

often ask clients dealing with the end of a relationship if they remember

having doubts in the beginning about this person and what they did with

those doubts. Yes, they admit, there were clues very early on that this was

a bad match but the little voice that was concerned about these things was

bound, gagged and thrown in a closet by that part of them that wanted the

high of that romantic feeling. The desire to bond tightly is so powerful it

will talk a person out of their doubts for a while. There is no drug that

matches the high of falling in love--food tastes better, the sun shines

warmer and every love song was written for you.  Heroin? Crack? Who needs

them?  It's only when things are falling apart that a person can admit that

the problems were there all along, they just wouldn't allow themselves to

see it and know it because it would have killed the high and kept the

relationship from ever happening.

        A famous psychiatrist wrote a book about therapy called "Love's

Executioner"  He titled it this because so often people drop out of therapy

just when they start to fall in love--they start feeling so good that they

decide they must be fine and "who needs therapy when I'm so happy," and then

we see them years later when they are waking up from their dream-state with

major relationship problems. The title refers to the fact that therapy can

be seen as the executioner of Romantic Love--because it's about seeing

reality, having your eyes open and your feet on the ground--while romantic

love is about illusion, projection and denial.  Whenever I see people who

are waking up and getting out of destructive relationships and afraid they

will just repeat the pattern again, I tell them to commit to themselves that

they will get in therapy the next time they feel themself falling in

love--as a reality check.  It certainly tempers some of the high--which for

a true romantic may seem a bitter pill to swallow-- but it can help a person

avoid major pitfalls down the road. 

        The bonding phase is completed as the illusion is gradually replaced by

painful reality.   At the start the connection was so tenuous it required

constantly maintaining the illusion until there was enough security in the

strength of the relationship to test it.  Somehow a silent signal is

arranged between the couple that can be interpreted as meaning," Now, it's

safe, we can begin to let up a bit on this romantic behavior and get down to

the real thing."  Many people remember this moment as their first big

fight--and it's a pretty scary event! Our first fight happened six months

into the relationship at the Atlantic House restaurant, a structure built on

stilts sitting out over the ocean on Folly Beach off of Charleston, South

Carolina.  When Hurricane Hugo hit and we saw pictures of the devastation in

Charleston, the Atlantic House was reduced to a pile of sticks.  Now we look

back and think if every structure that we ever had a fight in was destroyed

it would look like Sherman had marched through the South again!

        When this honeymoon-is-over phase starts, many couples think it is the end

of the bonding process--it's not.  What preceded was the prelude, now the

relationship is in Act One. The prelude had to be enjoyed in order for the

reality testing to commence.  The longer it takes to get to this phase, the

higher the cost--the price paid being the development of true intimacy and

the expression of each partners' True Self. 

        A word here about affairs.  This shift from the romantic phase to the

disillusionment phase is a time when affairs are most likely to occur,

especially when one partner is committed to maintaining the illusion of

romance in his life.  When the demands of external reality and the passage

of time make it difficult to maintain the illusion, the one more desirous of

that original feeling may seek it out somewhere else, telling themself that

because the feeling is gone, they must have picked the wrong person--not, oh

yeah, this is the natural phase that all relationships go through and that

we can weather together...

        Many couples do not have affairs but instead develop subtle and not so

subtle ways to exit the relationship without really leaving. One may become

overly involved in work rather than come home to the build-up of tension.

They may spend hours in front of the TV or the computer-- numbing out rather

than arguing. One may become involved in projects around the house so there

never seems to be time to sit and relate. 

        It's as if each fears that the relationship cannot withstand the explosion

of the build-up of tension and they silently non-verbally agree to keep

things at a comfortable distance--never quite resolving conflicts, storing

up and holding onto resentments, never clearing the decks.  Sexual frequency

may drop off, and when they do decide to be sexual it feels detached and

emotionally unsatisfying.  They learn the art of having their bodies

together and their hearts far apart. 

        Many times this phase begins when children are born, or struggles around

money and power develop.  She might start focusing her energies in other

places.  Perhaps she decides to go back to school or further develop her

career.  Perhaps they have children and her focus shifts away from the

relationship to the needs of the kids.   Perhaps he takes up running and

develops new friendships that take him away from her for periods of time.

        Many couples "drift apart" so far they end up divorced.  More than 50% do

not survive this phase.  Many people just do not have the knowledge or the

skills to make this phase work.  They may have had poor role-models in their

own parents. Or they were so deeply asleep and unconscious when they married

that when they awoke to the reality of their partner they had no desire to

stay with that person. 

        This phase is lengthy and it's about:

*How do we fit together now that we know who we really are? 

*How do we negotiate the differences in our personalities that once

attracted us to each other and now drive us nuts?

*What parts of ourselves are we willing and able to change? 

*Are the changes that my partner wants from me going to benefit me also, or

just them?

*Am I able to let go of some of the things I hope my partner will change and

accept them for who they are and give up the fantasy that there is a better

match out there for me? 

*Am I getting enough of my emotional needs met in the relationship that it

is worth the price of giving up my fantasies and illusions?   

        There are a couple of important ingredients that allow couples to move into

the next phase. 

*Number one is TRUST.  Not the fidelity trust but rather the faith that

together the couple can work through difficulties--or at least is willing to

risk it. This trust is an indicator of the strength of the commitment to

each other.

       

*Another necessary ingredient for surviving this phase is a healthy dose of

TOLERANCE.  The ability to recognize that "I'm human and fallible, therefore

I can accept you as fallible, too, neither of us is perfect" provides a

safety net for the risky process of letting go of the illusions and being

more real.  Showing ones True Self, warts and all, makes a person very

vulnerable to being criticized, for having these vulnerabilities used

against them at a later date, for being seen as less than perfect.

Acceptance and tolerance of each other's essential imperfection and

humanness makes this phase less painful and more successful.

       

*A third ingredient is RESPECT. If the latter part of the bonding phase is

spent building respect then the differentiation can take place without it

being such an overwhelming, terrifying event.  Respecting one's partner and

feeling respected allows partners to hang in there through the rough times

but feel that they are not being abused.  The more respect there is, the

more couples will allow  each other to expand and develop new aspects of

themselves through experimenting in their careers, taking courses, trying

new sports, making new friends. The relationship is less of a clinging,

desperate thing but a more mutually supportive traveling thing.

        For those that do survive this phase, what does the new picture look like?

What happens is the couple will begin to be more honest with

each-other--less afraid of upsetting each other and having disagreements or

conflicts. Sex at this time begins to be less theatrical and less fantastic.

Each member is beginning to reclaim or perhaps discover for the first time--

his or her True Self.  This means becoming more aware of our needs and

separating them out from our partner's needs. 

        Partners become more intentional in their interactions-- meaning they don't

just react to each other unconsciously, but become more aware of the effects

of their behavior on the other and work to find ways to communicate that

increase goodwill and trust. Each partner takes responsibility for

communicating their needs and desires and lets go of the fantasy that their

partner will intuit their needs.  There is the realization that even when

you state your needs outright there will be times when you have to meet your

needs yourself. And finally there is an acceptance that all good

relationships require work.

         The two halves of the whole separate themselves out and become two wholes.

They no longer need each other to feel like they have a place in the world.

Now that they don't need each other for their survival, they are choosing to

be together.

        We think this bicycle analogy provides a very clear and helpful image for

you to imagine when thinking about these various phases:

        In the bonding stage, both partners are on the same bike, a dominant

partner pedaling, a dependent partner riding on the handlebars. Eventually,

the dependent partner gets sick of the bumpy ride up there on the handle

bars and the dominant partner gets tired of supplying all the power. The

rider may kick the peddler off so they can change direction or speed.  If

they are still trying to use the same bike but are fighting over who is

supplying the power and where they are going they'll end up going nowhere!

        If a couple can differentiate, they each get their own bicycle and they

ride side by side.  Each is powerful and caring enough about the other one

to regulate their speed.  They ride separately but together. Sometimes one

can go faster than the other, but it's always with the care and respect to

notice if the other is coming along so that one does not get too far behind.

        When the couple survives the disillusionment phase then they move into the

final phase which is usually referred to as intimacy. This last stage makes

the rest of the struggle worthwhile.   Sometimes a renewed interest in

spiritual concerns or a sense of the finiteness of time causes you to look

at your partner with a new appreciation.  You get better at tolerating the

conflicts, at apologizing and making up, at clearing the decks.   You

realize you can travel more efficiently through life as two together, can

negotiate life with double the wisdom and experience -- plus you get the joy

of sharing the stress and the beauty of the journey with another

person--which fulfills our fundamental human need to share life's journey

with another.  In this way, what started as two halves becoming whole,

separated into two wholes, now develops into an entity where the whole is

greater than the sum of its parts--where the relationship is a third entity

with a life of its own that greatly benefits each of the participants in  it.

        Returning to the bicycle metaphor, this is the stage where the couple rides

a bicycle built for two.  One can pedal and the other can rest, and they can

switch off, as they explore new territory together.  There is a return of

romance and good sex.  Sex is no longer a power trip or a sleeping pill, but

a way for two people to share closeness and unconditional love.  Romance is

again possible because the partners nourish each other in so many ways that

their capacity for love is increased with each interaction.

        What does it take to travel across this territory? It takes the courage to

allow your True Self to be seen by another human being. Beyond that it takes

compassion, empathy, tolerance and the will to be more than a survivor, to

be a participant in our own destiny.  The reward is the joy of loving and

being loved throughout the remainder of your lives. 

Fiona: Canine Co-Therapist

The scrawny poodle with spindly legs and a too-long Dr. Seuss-ish curvy tail was not pretty, but she fit all three criteria. She was 1. a rescue dog, 2. small, and 3. a non-shedder.

It was mid-December of 2009, and the only thing our boys wanted for Christmas was “a new little dog we can cuddle on the couch!” We had strict criteria since we already had a big dog, plus we had allergies. So when I spotted that weird stray dog at the pet shelter, I told the adoption counselor, “We’ll take her!”

“Not so fast. She needs to meet everyone in the family, including your dog.” So we all gathered inside of a small cage-like room, along with our golden-doodle, Murphy. The counselor gingerly brought Dr.-Seuss-Tail into the cage. In a flash, she transformed from a cartoon character into the evil cave rabbit in “Monty Python’s Holy Grail,” snarling and attacking Murphy who was six times her size. Apparently, this was a match made in Hell.

The counselor brought in Dog #2, a sweet stray who simply ignored Murphy. After Evil Dog #1, we were relieved. “We’ll take him!” “Not so fast!” the counselor admonished. “You want a dog that will play with Murphy!”

Dog #3 was a roly-poly poodle puppy. “We’ll take him!” “Not so fast! He’s not house-broken. This won’t work for two working parents.”

I was starting to feel despondent. Suddenly her assistant perked up: “I know just the dog!” She ran to the back room and hauled a fat white fluffy MaltiPoo (half Maltese, half Poodle) from a small cage. Josephine wagged her curly pigtail at Murphy, sniffing and wiggling her pleasantly plump body. Then she greeted each of us warmly, wagging and sneezing. When I picked her up, she felt like a soft teddy bear from my childhood. “We’ll take her!”

On the ride home, two things happened: we re-named her “Fiona” (after the character in “Shrek”: zaftig and full of inner beauty!) and she fell head over heels in love. With me. Instead of bonding with my boys like we’d hoped, she picked me to be her Human.

When I placed her on the couch between the boys, she’d hop off and follow me out of the room. Worst of all, whenever I left her to go to work, she’d poop in my bedroom.
“This is why her other family gave her up!” my husband growled, scooping up and disposing of her “coming home present” in a wad of paper towels.

At my wit’s end, I decided to bring her with me to work at my therapy office. Little did I know the multiple ways that this desperate decision would pay off.

It’s been almost three years, and Fiona happily accompanies me to work most days, sitting by our front door and staring at me each morning as I gather my purse and keys.

I never meant for Fiona to be a therapy dog, but she had other plans. She’s become our office mascot, a big hit with colleagues and clients. She greets all newcomers in the waiting room, sniffing each foot and pant leg to learn about the poor animal who was not fortunate enough to accompany their Human out the door that morning.

My clients are happy to see her and she greets them warmly, shoving her nose deep into their purse to see if they’ve brought treats. Over this time, four clients have purchased MaltiPoos simply because they were so impressed with Fiona’s calm and loving demeanor.

The shy teenager with anorexia feels her anxiety soothed as she sits on my couch: what teenager doesn’t love a fluffy dog? The mother whose daughter committed suicide runs her hands over Fiona as she weeps over her loss. The shy man with shaky social skills opens up easily as we talk about our dogs. The woman who feels silly grieving over the death of her cat feels that it’s safe to cry here, knowing I’m an animal lover. The man with depression smiles when Fiona reaches her paws up to his knees. The obsessive worrier is calmed by her presence. And when a couple comes in for marital therapy and the tension is thick, Fiona makes herself scarce lest she be the next target of an angry outburst.

The best and most unintended benefit of my canine co-therapist is the effect she’s had on me. For these past three years, I’ve felt calmer, happier and more at peace. Her soft, accepting and always happy presence lowers my heart rate and increases my relaxing alpha brain waves. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she lowers my cholesterol.

Even (and especially) therapists need a little therapy, too.