I got up a little later than usual today, around 6:30 AM. I didn’t sleep well last night, partly because a rotator cuff issues kept me awake. I completed a course of physical therapy with mild to moderate results. The next step is surgery, something that I can’t do at this time as I need to be available to help my wife; such surgery will leave me nearly non-functional for months. For now, I have to grin and bear it.
Despite my hazy state, I’m excited this morning. Why? Julie and I will head off to another sibling breakfast with the remainder of my family.
My family of origin consisted of 5 siblings. My sister Carol is fifteen years my senior, my brother Tom was twelve years my senior, my brother Dave was ten years my senior, and my sister Nancy is seven years my senior.
Tom passed away at age 33 from leukemia. I liked Tom, who was a great writer of humorous anecdotes. Just as I was reaching an age where we could have bonded, he became sick, and despite having the best care, he passed away. My brother Dave lived into his 70s but was plagued by the sequela from childhood polio and later PSP, a horrible neurological condition. I was not very close to Dave, which was unfortunate. As adults, I can’t say we had harsh words or some major point of conflict. I guess sometimes that is just the way it is.
So, how does all of this relate to sibling breakfasts? I am a person of relationships. As I have said in previous posts, I don’t need a lot of connections, but I heavily invest in those that I value; some of those important relationships are my siblings and surrogate siblings. I’ll be seeing them in two hours.
My biological siblings share my OCD tendencies. Both Nancy and Carol are very invested in the interest of the day. Currently, Nancy is locked into making fancy Bundt cakes, and Carol is focused on simplifying clutter. I talk to them almost every day and visit them when possible. I can wholly relate to their obsessiveness. I’m currently comparing the dynamic range of smaller camera sensors vs. larger ones. Completely unimportant for most, utterly fascinating for me- until I move on to my next obscure interest.
My surrogate siblings are my brother-in-law Mike and my sister-in-law Kathy. I have known both since my early teens and hold them close to my heart. Mike regularly sends me links to various articles that he believes will interest me, and Kathy often says kind words when I post something. Add my wife, Julie, to this crew, and the party is complete.
We have been getting together on roughly a monthly schedule for many years. We meet at a restaurant and “catch up.” In reality, we know what is happening in each other lives via phone calls, visits, and Facebook. However, we still cherish these face-to-face group times.
We are all getting older, and none of us wants to regret not trying to be together. I can’t tell you how fortunate I feel to have these people in my life. They are all inspirational to me. I value all of them, and I am certain that this feeling is reciprocated.
I write a lot about relationships in my posts because I understand that they are fundamental in pursuing life’s satisfaction. In this regard, the definer is quality, not quantity. The only investments I have had to make to have these wonderful people in my life are my time and consideration. They pick me up when I’m down, celebrate my achievements, and most importantly, value me just for who I am. I am so fortunate. Let the breakfast begin!
Our last breakfast encounter.A prior breakfast with the full complement of participants.
When I originally conceived this post, I was going to title it “The life changes I made when I retired.” However, like most things I write, the topic evolved. The title then became “Changes that I have made as I have aged.” That was also inaccurate, as some of my life changes started in my 20s and have grown since then. The bottom line is that as an adult, I have slowly become who I am today. Let me share some of those changes with you.
I no longer fear Imposter syndrome.
When I was younger, I received conflicting critiques about who I was and what my abilities were. On one hand, I was told I was stupid, lazy, and useless, while on the other hand, I was told that I was bright, talented, and unique. I reveled in the later critique but didn’t believe it was real. I feared my complementers would discover I was a fraud.
I recall being in college and breaking the curve on tests, thinking I was lucky. After doing this many times, I changed my belief to “I just study harder.” Eventually, I came to understand that I grasped the material better than the average student, which was why I topped the curve. Before you think I’m too grandiose, let me inform you that I have also recognized my weaknesses. For instance, I cannot remember common facts, like a person’s name or a telephone number. Additionally, I have great difficulty putting together a simple children’s jigsaw puzzle.
I no longer feel that I’m an imposter. Instead, I understand that I’m a person with some unique gifts and some significant weaknesses. My goal has always been to exploit my strengths while doing everything possible to turn my weaknesses into strengths. I’m still a work in progress.
I don’t care what people think about me.
When I moved into my house 30 years ago, I tried to be casually friendly towards my neighbors. This effort went reasonably well, and I’m still on good terms with people I met at that time. However, there was one situation where something went wrong. A guy lived half a block from my house, and I had minimal contact with him. We had kids the same age, and I occasionally saw him at the school bus stop or around the neighborhood. When I ran into him, I would greet him with a hello or raise my hand in a wave. Initially, he responded, but then he stopped. He would sometimes visibly scowl if he caught sight of me. If I was face-to-face with him, looked him directly in his eye, and said hello, he would look past me like I didn’t exist. This situation upset and baffled me as I could not think of a reason for this change in his behavior. I felt that I must have done something wrong to create such a reaction, but I couldn’t even remember conversing with him, let alone saying something rude. My concerns eventually faded, and I got past his response (or lack thereof). I never found out why this person went from a casual contact to someone who hated me. However, I no longer care.
In my private practice, I initially evaluated a middle-aged man who needed a new psychiatrist as his old one was retiring. This poor guy was taking a suitcase of ridiculous and repetitive meds. His former doctor had him on multiple tranquilizers, sleeping pills, stimulants, and even opioid pain meds. I told the man frankly that my goal would be to get him off of 90% of the medications that he was taking because only then could I see what he needed. He was furious with me and left my office, never to return. I had to admit that I had a sense of relief when he left, as I knew that weaning such a patient would be as difficult for me as for him. Six months later, I saw him on my schedule and thought, “Oh crap.” I was sure that I was about to get some sort of dressing down because he was so angry when he left the first time.
The man came in, and instead of reaming me, he apologized. He was seeing a new doctor who was happy to continue all of his meds, but over time, he realized that I was the first doctor to care enough about his care to risk losing him by telling him the truth. Over time, I was able to get him off most of his meds and transition him to more appropriate ones. He became a patient for life and continued to travel to my Illinois office after he moved to Ohio.
There are times when I have accidentally offended someone. When things go badly in an encounter, and I am the cause, I want to make it right. However, long ago, I realized there would be people who would like me and people who wouldn’t. Some who don’t want to be my friend will have a valid reason; others won’t. I try to be kind and respectful to everyone, but if that is not enough…so be it. I want to concentrate my energy on those who want to share time with me. For the others, I wish them a happy life, but otherwise, I simply don’t care.
I no longer try to live up to other people’s expectations of me.
Some people think they know how I should behave, what I should do, and how I should live my life. Sometimes, these comments are out of genuine caring and could be considered complements. “You should write a book on that topic,” or “You should practice again; we need good psychiatrists.” At other times, I have been the target of someone’s manipulation, like when a senior medical student wanted me, as a freshman medical student, to take her place on a horrible committee that involved a ton of work and long twice-monthly meetings. I could give dozens of other examples, but they all involve “shoulds.” You should do this, or you shouldn’t do that. Long ago, I realized it was OK to listen to other’s perspectives, but I knew myself better than they knew me. I live according to my expectations, not someone else’s.
I no longer buy into societal norms.
We are constantly being pressured to fit in. As a doctor, society tried to determine how big my house should be, what kind of car I should drive, and what friends I should associate with. When I turned 50, I bought a “doctor’s car,” a Mercedes. I felt pretty cool and accomplished for about a month, and then it dawned on me that the Mercedes was just a box on wheels. After a time, it became a burden due to its poor construction and excessive repair costs. I traded it in for a Honda; a happy day. I no longer need to keep up with the Joneses or the Dr. Joneses. I just want to live my life and be myself.
It took me about a month to realize that my Mercedes was just a box on wheels.
I no longer think I’m unworthy if I’m average at something.
Growing up, I received praise and validation through my academic abilities. This reinforcement led to a pattern of behavior in which I felt that I had to prove my worth by consistently exceeding expectations. That went well beyond schooling. I thought I had to be engaging, intelligent, and funny in social situations. It was my task to make sure that no one was uncomfortable. It was my job to come up with a topic that interested the person I was talking to, not a subject I had an interest in. In my marriage, I felt I had to be the ultimate provider, the man with the plan, who was both in charge yet compassionate and tender, alternating roles as required. I felt I had to prove my worth beyond being a good doctor in my business. For example, I taught myself web design to save the clinic money by designing, building, and uploading a complicated corporate website instead of having the clinic contract a professional.
These characteristics are part of me, but the operative definer is “part.” I don’t always want to be the most competent person in the room, the most engaging, and the most thoughtful. Sometimes, I want to be me. Over time, I have realized I have worth, as all humans do. It is OK for me to allow others to take the lead and be intelligent, thoughtful, and caring. My genuine self is that of a nurturer, but I sometimes need to be nurtured. I am happy to care for the people I love, but I also want to be loved. I can learn new things to help others, but at times, I am the person who needs help.
Sometimes, it feels good just to be good enough.
I no longer feel a need to control others.
When I care about someone, I want to protect them and keep them safe. When my kids were young, imparting my “knowledge” to them was possible. However, they are now adults and have had the benefits of an excellent education, a ton of love and support, and wisdom from both parents. If they ask my opinion, I will happily give it to them. If I see a major disaster on the horizon, I may offer an unsolicited opinion. However, in most cases, I feel my role is to be a supportive listener. This stance goes beyond my kids but requires continuing effort on my part. I’m better at letting go, but I still want to shield those I love from hurt and trauma. I need to remind myself that adults have the right to self-determination.
I no longer have to be everyone’s friend.
There was a time when someone asked me to be my friend, and I would automatically say yes. Many times, these were individuals who recognized that I was a caretaker. The relationship would consist of them using me in one way or another. When I needed their help or support, they would be “too busy.” I no longer want such people in my life. I want mutually beneficial relationships with others, and I would much rather have a small circle of true friends than a massive group of casual friends.
I don’t need to accomplish everything I could have achieved.
I have many ideas and can connect seemingly unrelated pieces of information. In the 1970s, I worked with a team at the U of C, employing a new tool called monoclonal antibodies. We were using these antibodies as a research probe to study Multiple Sclerosis, but it was abundantly clear that they could also be used for clinical medical purposes, targeted cancer treatment being one of them. In medical school, I knew I could become a research doc and advance that (and other) ideas. However, I understood that I wasn’t happy as a researcher and wanted to pursue a clinical path; I abandoned the idea.
I started an multi-media company to educate lay people. My first education DVD received good reviews, but it took me hundreds of hours to create and produce. Although I had ideas for other DVDs, I wasn’t willing to spend every waking hour developing them.
The bottom line is that life involves balance. I couldn’t do it all if I wanted to have a full life. I wanted time to explore hobbies, have time for my wife, children, and friends, and to learn new things. This meant that I couldn’t always accomplish the big stuff. Having a balanced life turned out to be the right decision for me.
I have less need for “stuff.”
When I was younger, I saw the road to happiness and my credit card joined at the hip. I felt envy if I visited someone who had a larger house. “Someday, I will have that too.” The same could be said of anything that seemed better than what I had. Thank goodness that envy ended decades ago.
At that time, I went from a position of envy to a place of gratitude. There will always be someone who has something “better” than me, but there will always be someone worse off, too. Where do I find my happiness? The other day, I walked in a beautiful forest preserve just minutes from home. I brought a nice camera and took random photos of interesting subjects. At home, I made dinner for my family and a friend. We ate and talked and ate some more. It was a lovely day.
Random photo #1Random photo #2
I am so grateful to have good people in my life, that I’m relatively healthy, that I enjoy being creative and learning new things, and that I have so much beauty at my doorstep. There are so many things to be grateful for!
I value these things so much more than stuff.
I don’t worry about the clothes that I’m wearing.
I’m a basic guy. As a practicing doctor, I had to dress the part, and my closet was jammed with dress shirts and such. Recently, I decided to eliminate most of those shirts and almost all of my suits. I only wore suits when I had to, but I discovered that I had 8 of them! I tossed the worn clothes and gave away the nice shirts and suits.
My retirement wardrobe is effortless; I mostly wear jeans with a SmartWool tee or a polo shirt. I love the ease of choosing “one item from column A and one from column B,” and I’m dressed. At other times I’ll wear something fun. Why? Because I can wear what I want when I want to wear it.
Not exactly “doctor regulation clothing” but fun!
I no longer need to be perfect.
In the past, I felt that I needed to be perfect and that I had to have an encyclopedic knowledge of any topic. I would blame myself if I didn’t know something, even when I could not know it. This caused me stress.
I still try to do a good job. However, perfection is not possible. It is a relief to acknowledge that sometimes good is good enough.
I have no problem saying “No.”
In the distant past, I felt that if someone asked me to do something, I would have to say “OK.”
People ask me to do things all the time. I will often say yes, and it feels great to help someone. However, other times, someone wants me to do something I don’t want to do. Those requests can be minor or sometimes highly time-consuming. Long ago, I learned that a simple “No” sans any explanation was the way to go. One minute of discomfort can, at times, save months of agony.
I don’t always have to be productive.
When I worked 60+ hours a week, my free time was minimal. I remember sitting at my desk paying the household bills and feeling guilty that I wasn’t raking the leaves simultaneously. My limited time and excessive demands created an environment where I thought I had to produce something of value 24/7. That was not a healthy place to be.
In retirement, I have found the true joy of being while still doing things. Yesterday, I cleaned out the clothes occupying one foot of my closet, tossed out one large bag of junk from my basement, wrote part of this post, and helped my sister with some computer issues. However, that left time to do many other things, ranging from having coffee with a friend to studying an esoteric and useless topic. Oh, and I also took a nap-and didn’t feel a bit of guilt.
I don’t have a fear of the future.
How many times have I worried about something that never happened? How many times have terrible things happened without me seeing them approaching? The reality is that worry has never been a strategy for success. If I worry about something, I tell myself: Accept what I cannot change, change what I can, and know the difference between the two (paraphrased AA serenity prayer). Life happens. Good things happen. Bad things happen. I aim to live in the half-full glass zone, not the half-empty one. For every bad thing that has happened to me, I have had a dozen good things happen. Every morning brings a new day. My goal is to make the most of that day.
I no longer ignore the small things.
Life is not about a trip to Europe or the purchase of a new home. Those things are lovely but very episodic. Life is about the small stuff: drinking a good cup of coffee, spending time with a friend, having dinner and conversation with my family, going on a walk while intentionally observing all of the beauty around me, and learning something new, even if it has no practical application. There is so much joy in the small things. Why do people ignore these gifts? Not me.
I like cooking/baking and sharing it with people that I love. The Angle Food cake turned out great. My take on cheesy herbal muffins were a bit dry, but they ate them anyway!On another walk, I saw these tiny flowers. I thought they were so pretty that I had to photograph them. It would have been easy to miss them if I hadn’t been looking with intention.
I’m no longer hard on myself.
I have already said that I’m not perfect. That reality permeates every aspect of my life. However, I no longer beat myself up when I make a mistake. I try to learn from it and make it right if appropriate. I’m not perfect, but I’m good enough.
I no longer place unreasonable expectations on my family and friends.
We all want what we want. However, I try to view each close relationship as a gift. I want to have good people in my life who I love and who love me. However, they are individuals and have their own values and needs, which may differ from mine. I make a solid effort to accept them for who they are. However, I intentionally choose considerate people to be in my life. I try to be the same to them, and although we are not perfect bookends, we appreciate and value our connections.
Letting go of the above has made me a better and happier person. Each day is a gift to be celebrated and not squandered.
Why do we think that relationships are supposed to work magically, or conversely, why do we believe that relationships should be nothing but hard work?
We live in a world of unreasonable expectations, inflated self-worth, and changing roles. We also live in a world of failing relationships. Marketing executives tell us what should make us happy: things, trips, experiences. However, studies indicate that one of the most significant contributions to longevity, psychological health, and physical health is solid connections with others. Healthy connections can be with anyone: friends, relatives, children. However, the primary connection that many of us have is the connection we have with a life partner. We spend the most time with this person on both an immediate and a longitudinal basis. Classically, that person would be a spouse or a person in the role of a spouse.
Yet, we continue to see a degradation of this union. Traditional marriages have almost a 50% failure rate, with second marriages faring even worse. The average length of a first marriage is only eight years. The average length of a cohabitating couple staying together is 18 months to six years, depending on the study. Couples who live together before they are married have a higher marriage failure rate than those who follow a more traditional path.
Finding a relationship has shifted away from traditional avenues to online apps. The majority of women vie for the top 10% of men, meaning that many of these women become casual bonus relationships while 90% of the men face constant rejection. That rejection is often based on superficial requirements like being 6 feet tall or above or making a 6-figure salary.
The ease of hooking up almost anonymously doesn’t lead to a sense of liberation or empowerment, as studies show that both men and women often feel emptier after an encounter.
Although not for everyone, something must be said about a quality traditional committed relationship. The operative word here is quality. So many relationships start with high hopes, only to end in disaster. Conventional approaches to healing a failing relationship, such as couples therapy, may be effective only 50% of the time.
Is there a way to ensure that a committed relationship continues to thrive? That was the question that John Gottman, PhD, and his wife Julie Gottman, PhD, have been exploring for the last 50 years. Authors of over 40 books and several hundred scientific papers, it would be impossible to summarize all of their work in this short post. However, I thought I would highlight some of their observed findings.
The Gottmans discovered that some individuals were masters of relationships and were experts at nurturing connections with their significant other. Unfortunately, others were poor at maintaining relationships. The good news was that it is possible to learn how to become a master. Just like anything else, relationships require work and attention to thrive. However, the Gottmans note that having a good relationship doesn’t need to be a constant, exhausting effort.
One critical need is for partners to respond to little bids for connection from their counterparts. Bids for connection are simple statements that one partner says to the other. Statements like, “Oh, that tree has the most beautiful fall colors!” or “Can you come into the kitchen to check this out?” It was found that successful partners responded to these little bids around 86% of the time. Their response didn’t have to be much. “Yes, that tree is beautiful,” or “OK, I’ll be right there.” Poor prognosis couples only responded positively 33% of the time—the other 67% of the time, they ignored or turned away from their partner.
They also noted that successful couples often had rituals of connection, routine questions that showed interest in the other person, such as “How was your day?” or “What can I do for you this week to make you feel loved?” Our family always does “rose and thorns” at dinner time. Each person takes a turn and says the good and bad things they experienced during the last 24 hours. This ritual is simple but allows for further conversation and connection. We also know when some external force is negatively impacting one of us. We do many other simple things to acknowledge each other. For instance, if we hear someone coming into the house, we usually shout, “Welcome home!.” Naturally, there are also many specific points of connection that I specifically have with my wife—easy ways to connect via simple rituals.
The Gottmans note that partners should also openly discuss what is bothering them. The complainant should use “I ” rather than “you” statements. It is better to say, “I’m feeling exhausted making dinner every night,” rather than, “You are lazy and inconsiderate for not helping with dinner.” The latter just makes the recipient defensive. To continue to move the conversation forward, they suggest that the recipient ask questions like, “Tell me more about your concerns,” rather than instantly defending their position. The complainant’s job is not to blame but to express how something negatively impacts them.
They note that successful marriages often have patterns of behaviors that strengthen their bonds. One way to do this is to ask open-ended questions, which allow the other person to respond at length instead of with a one-word answer. It is better to say, “Tell me more about what is stressing you,” rather than “So you are stressed?” The more you know how your partner feels about something, the better you understand them.
Turning toward your partner when talking acknowledges that what they say is important to you. How many people turn away or look at their phone or TV when their partner tries to engage them? Such actions signal that their partner’s concerns are insignificant.
The Gottmans also noted the importance of expressing fondness for each other through words and touch. It doesn’t take much to say, “I love you,” or “You look very nice today.” Physical touch is vital in creating a bond between two people. That touch can be anything from intimate cuddling to holding hands. I’m a touchy guy, and I’m sure it is one of my “love languages.”
Successful couples are skilled at managing conflict. However, 70% of disputes that couples experience are non-resolvable. Therefore, it is necessary to face these situations with humor, grace, compromise, and acceptance.
I’m a person who does poorly with a lot of visual clutter. I like things to be neat and organized. Julie is more of a free spirit, and clutter doesn’t bother her. This was an unresolvable conflict in our marriage. Many years ago, I took over cleaning the house. This allowed me to establish simple courtesy rules for all members while freeing Julie from housecleaning tasks. If someone uses a dish outside of a meal, they must wash it and put it away. However, I make sure that the kitchen is clean and tidy. At the same time, I don’t mess with Julie’s areas, like the top of her dresser. Our differences remain, but we have found a way to move past them.
Likewise, I’m a chronic comparer and love examining how different products are similar and different. I’m a photographer and have over a dozen cameras of all types. Do I need that many cameras? No. However, they give me pleasure. I collect other things, too; many of those interests are temporary, and I usually give things away after ” studying” them. However, that is not the case with my cameras. Early in our marriage, Julie commented that I was pathological in my “collections.” I would counter with angry and defensive feelings as my collections never impacted us as a couple, and they were important to me. However, at some point, she understood that this “comparison” issue was something I had been doing since childhood, and it gave me a lot of pleasure. Would she prefer it if I had fewer collections? I’m confident the answer would be yes, but she now accepts who I am, and we can laugh about our mutual quirks.
Although 70% of conflicts are not resolvable, most are trivial, like the ones listed above. Of course, there can be times when a conflict is so significant that it can’t be accepted or laughed off, and there is no hope of resolution. However, those unacceptable conflicts are rarer than most couples believe.
The Gottmans also found that successful couples honor and support each other’s dreams. These dreams may be different for each individual. My thought is that there has to be balance here. Let’s say one partner gets involved in get-rich-quick scams, or the other wants to sell everything and move to Paris to live a Bohemian lifestyle. In those situations, it may not be possible for the other person to support the other’s dreams completely. However, there may be compromises. Perhaps a measured amount of resources can be spent on mildly risky financial opportunities, or a more spartan lifestyle further away from the rat race can be adopted. A couple’s bond is strengthened when each person’s dreams are respected.
Establishing rituals can also be an excellent way to build bonds. Let me share a somewhat embarrassing personal example with you. When dating Julie, I was gifted a giant magnum of costly champagne. Julie and I are not big drinkers, but quality champagne tastes more like fizzy grape juice than hard liquor (my unsophisticated opinion). I knew champagne didn’t age well, so I uncorked it on one Halloween over 30 years ago. On that day, I bought an enormous amount of candy, and we both ran to the door every time we heard the doorbell ring. The kids’ costumes became more impressive with each glass, and we wanted to see them all. At the same time, I had ordered a substantial Chinese take-out feast, which we were enjoying. It was a crazy and fun day despite the horrible headaches we both suffered the following morning. Although we have omitted the champagne part, we always have Chinese food on Halloween, and we still enjoy the Trick-Or-Treaters, who are so proud of their “disguises.” Chinese food on Halloween has become a ritual in our house.
Trust and commitment are critical components of successful couples. Can I trust that you have my back? Will you be there for me for life? If our situation changes, will you stick by me? If I become sick, will you support me or abandon me?
As a therapist, I sometimes treated a person or couple in an open marriage. These arrangements usually stipulate only physical and not emotional involvement with the third party. However, I often saw that emotional involvement did occur and that it would destroy the couple’s relationship. An even more destructive situation was when one person decided to go outside the marriage to find an affair partner. Trust and commitment are destroyed in such situations.
An affair partner can always look good, be nice, be supportive, and be exciting because they have none of the real-life issues married couples face. Statistics show that a vast percentage of relationships that start as an affair end badly when they go from an affair to a committed relationship. People who “cheat” often don’t stop in their next relationship.
The Gottmans also found predictors of relationship failures. They could easily predict what marriages would fail after watching a single argument. They call this destructive communication style the “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”
The first horseman is criticism. This is different than offering a critique or voicing a complaint. It is an attack on the person. A complaint would be, “I feel unappreciated when you leave your dishes around the house, and I have to collect and wash them.” A criticism would be, “You are so inconsiderate. You never think about how your behavior impacts me; you only think about yourself. You are useless and just cause me extra work! You are a horrible person!” Hopefully, you can see the difference between these two expressions.
The second horseman is contempt. This is far worse than criticism and is a powerful predictor of a future failed marriage. Contempt occurs when one person takes a superior position to the other. It often includes mocking, name-calling, cruel sarcasm, and scoffing. The goal is to demean the other person and make them feel worthless. Contempt implies that the perpetrator is superior to their partner. An example of contempt is, “How dare you complain that you’re tired. You only have to watch the kids and care for the house. How hard is that? I have to go to work and support the family. I have to do the real work. You are pathetic!” It doesn’t take much to realize how destructive a comment like that would quickly sour a marriage.
The third horseman is defensiveness, which is often a response to criticism. “Did you pick up the pie for the Smiths’ potluck?” A defensive response would be, “You know how busy I am. I can’t do everything. Why didn’t you do it?” There is no dialog; instead, there is anger and an effort to reverse blame.
The fourth horseman is stonewalling. This is when one partner simply shuts down and stops responding to their partner. They may turn away, get involved in something else (like playing a video game), or simply ignore their partner. This is often a response to contempt. Stonewalling is the result of being psychologically flooded. The person is so overwhelmed by the psychological attack that they are in flight or fight mode. Their ability to respond is hampered, as are their reasoning abilities. This is a natural response to a threat where escape and survival are at the forefront.
If a couple recognizes that they are doing the above, they can change their behavior. Otherwise, the relationship is doomed. All couples argue there is nothing wrong with having conflict. The key is knowing how to “fight right.” One method is to listen and not interrupt others when they share their concerns. The Gottmans even suggest having the recipient write them down, as this reduces defensiveness and angry reactions (obviously, this would be for more serious problems, not forgetting to pick up a pie).
They also note that business approaches to conflict resolution do not work in these emotional situations. Doing a cost/benefit exercise is not going to help. Listening, asking open questions, taking responsibility, and acknowledging the other person’s concerns are more essential tools. A sincere apology has a lot of power.
An abundance of research data suggests that good relationships increase a person’s psychological health, physical health, and longevity. As the population moves toward an app-based selection method for potential partners, superficial identifiers often replace more valuable characteristics like kindness, empathy, cooperation, and compassion. Apps have turned potential partner selection into just another marketplace where you go to purchase a product—turning a person into an object to deliver something to the recipient. Such a position is destructive to building a genuine relationship. Relationships have to be mutually beneficial to work; those benefits are often mutually supportive, as shown by the Gottmans’ research.
Here is the good news. If you, as a couple, understand and implement what the Gottmans suggest, you can transform a doomed relationship into a successful one. I mentioned the concept of being a master of relationships. If you practice their suggestions, those skills will extend well beyond your couple’s relationship and benefit your other life connections. How cool is that?
Being kind and considerate towards your partner is not co-dependent; it is an active and thoughtful process that also respects your values and needs. However, it may feel contrary to our societal norms, filled with anger and dissatisfaction.
It is so acceptable to use the word hate. “I hate him!” It is harder to say the word love when using it as it was intended to be used. Don’t you find that strange? Image the power of two people working towards common goals who support and love one another. Compare that to a couple that constantly finds fault with each other. Why does the latter seem much easier in our society than in the former?
Relationships are not rocket science, but they require some thinking and effort. Why would anyone believe differently?
Peace
Mike
Here is an old joke I would sometimes tell couples:
A woman goes to see a therapist. “How can I help you,” asked the therapist. “I hate my husband, and I want you to tell me how to punish him. I really want him to suffer. I want to hurt him!” The therapist said he was reluctant to help, but in the end, he agreed. “OK, this is what you have to do. You need to treat him real well. Tell him that you love him. On occasion, pick up his favorite treats for no reason. Kiss him goodbye when he goes out. Compliment him when he looks nice. Be kind and supportive of him. Then, when he falls back in love with you, leave him!” The lady chuckled in a sinister way, nodded her head, and left the office. Three months later, the therapist saw her name on his schedule. The lady came into the office, and she was beaming. In fact, she looked 10 years younger. “I guess you did what I told you to do and then dumped him,” said the therapist. “Yes, I did exactly what you told me to do, but dump him? Are you kidding? My husband is treating me like a queen. Our marriage marriage has never been better!”
In celebrating the ritual of “Father’s Day,” Julie made an effort to make me a special meal.It is essential to have fun in a relationship. Friends invited us to a party where we had to “act” certain parts. I was told to be a rough greaser, and Julie was given the part of a 1950s prim prissy high school girl. Why not have fun with such an experience?
When I told my father my plans he was clearly displeased. It was a spring day, and I was talking to him in his south suburban backyard. “Dad, I’m going to specialize in psychiatry.” His response was quick and sharp, “Why would you want to do that? You should become a real doctor. Psychiatrists aren’t doctors.”
By that point in my life, I had long charted my own course. I listened respectfully, but internally, I ignored his commands. I no longer needed his approval, and my conversation was more perfunctory rather than advice-seeking. He had his agenda, and I had mine. Since my decision would directly impact me, it was my decision to make. I subtly changed the topic to something that I knew would interest him. It was a deliberate manipulation on my part to a neutral subject, and the conversation moved forward.
His question was valid for other reasons. Why had I decided on this career path? My answer was both surprising yet understandable.
There are certain key events in my life that I write about repeatedly. They serve as markers that indicate significant changes in my knowledge of myself and the world around me. They are the road signs to my life. Many other factors are equally important, but these events note a change in understanding or direction. A fork in the road that led to a different journey.
I often talk about my dyslexia, a diagnosis that is only partially accurate. I use the term because it is relatable. In reality, I have a variety of processing differences that can make simple tasks difficult for me. For instance, I can visualize abstract concepts but can’t assemble a simple children’s jigsaw puzzle. This processing disparity was evident when I was in second grade and couldn’t read. In the early 1960s, the concept of learning disabilities was utterly foreign at the Catholic grade school that I attended. My teacher, a nun, recognized that I was smart and erroneously concluded that my inability was caused by a vision problem, which prompted my parents to get me a pair of glasses. This was a significant expense, and my father was not pleased, but he complied.
I was hoping for a miracle and was crushed to discover that they did little to translate the incomprehensible set of symbols that moved around the page with a mind of their own. I was at a phase in my life when I thought that any imperfection in me reflected poorly on my family and parents, and I was terrified of gaining even more displeasure from my father.
Yet, I had a certain confidence in myself, likely boosted by my teachers, who would comment on how smart I was. I had to devise a solution, and I felt confident I could. But what resources did I have? How could I take something I already had and use it as a tool? The answer came to me via the Sunday comics. There was a strip called “Nancy” that was very simple in both its storyline and vocabulary. I could piece together the words by tying them to the pictures. The traditional way I was being taught to read would never work for me because I could not see the separation between words and lines of text. However, if I viewed a word as a shape instead of a series of letters, I could decipher its meaning. My brain could do that, and print started to make sense. I did many other things to teach my brain how to read. Soon, an entire world of information was revealed to me. By the time I took my 4th-grade achievement tests, I was testing at the 11th-grade level.
I was a big kid, so I can’t say that I was the object of a lot of bullying. I was part of the mass group of kids; neither a member of the popular crowd nor the reject group. I had friends, and I did things. Yet, I felt like an imposter. Subjects that interested my friends didn’t particularly interest me, and things that I was interested in held no interest with them. I learned that to be accepted, I would have to show interest in what interested them while hiding those things that I was interested in.
My salvation was science, and my teachers were the pseudo-scientists of the B science fiction movies that I would watch on late-night TV. My ultimate hero and male role model was Don Herbert, AKA “Mr. Wizard” of TV fame. Mr. Wizard seemed to have the answer to how everything and anything worked. He showed me that there was a method to understanding, a way to prove ideas, and a methodology to learning. What he demonstrated formally was consistent with what I had been doing organically. Mr. Wizard didn’t know me, but he understood me. He had to, as what he was explaining on TV was exactly how I was already solving problems. Mr. Wizard allowed me to feel “normal.” I no longer believed I had to fake who I was; at least one person understood me.
My success in learning how to read taught me that authorities didn’t always know what was best and that there were solutions to seemingly impossible problems if I allowed myself to think outside the box. Mr. Wizard gave me a formal set of rules to test ideas. Science and math provided the tools to implement those solutions. I was suddenly empowered.
It was only natural that I would pursue science, and as I have said in a previous post, the most logical course of action would have been to obtain a Ph.D. and pursue a university career. I’m a rational person who examines potential outcomes, plots a course to achieve a particular goal, and then pursues that goal with force and dedication. It works… well, sort of… well, sometimes…well, hmmm..ummm…keep reading.
I have already told you how I successfully reached my goal of graduate school and even had the school pay for my education. A perfect plan? Then, despite all logic to the contrary, I had an irresistible urge to abandon my plan and apply to medical school, which was an insane idea that was bound to fail. I knew that I would never be accepted into medical school. All of my logic, all of my “scientific method,” and all of my dreams were tossed aside for a whim. Yet, that was precisely what I did; I allowed a force outside of myself to control my actions. I was as shocked as anyone when multiple medical schools accepted me. Many of them referred to how meaningful my personal statement was to them. Here was a kid who couldn’t read in second grade who was now moving doctors with his writing. Life is strange, isn’t it?
I have always had an immense interest in the interface between chemistry and biology. My graduate work centered on changes to proteins as they are extruded through a bacteria’s cell membrane. During my application to med school year, I left grad school and got a research job at the University of Chicago using tissue culture models to study Multiple Sclerosis. We were using a cutting-edge technology (this was in the 1970s) called monoclonal antibodies to create specific markers. Even then, I could see how such a targeted method could be utilized clinically, from cancer treatment to fighting infections. However, those advancements would be decades in the future.
Logic would dictate that I pursue an area of medicine that incorporated my scientific knowledge with clinical practice. The options were plenty: internal medicine sub-specialties like infectious diseases and endocrinology to specialties like Neurology. I knew that one of those areas would be a perfect fit. However, they weren’t.
I was so excited to do my internal medicine rotations, but they disappointed me. I spent 90% of my time running down labs, examining scans, and writing notes. The time that I spent with patients was minimal. It felt like I was back in the lab, but my subjects were humans this time. As a family practice doctor, I may have been happy as that medicine was more integrative. However, family practice options were discouraged at Northwestern. When I asked the medical school dean why, he responded, “Our mission is to produce specialists.” Despite this, my problem-solving and goal-direction abilities pointed me toward an internal medicine subspecialty. It was where my background and interests led me.
Psychiatry was never a consideration. I had some fears about the profession. My mother was frequently hospitalized for ketoacidosis, a condition caused by her out-of-control diabetes. Once, she was in a medical unit that shared a floor with Christ Hospital’s psych unit. That unit had an imposing locked metal door with a thin slit window made more solid with embedded mesh wire. It was scary looking, but young me was curious. I crept up to the door and, with all the courage I could muster, looked into the window, not knowing what to expect. From out of nowhere, a face appeared directly opposite me. A deranged and disheveled-looking man started to shout at me and threaten me. His face was one inch from mine, only separated by a thin piece of glass.
Along with his verbal threats, he started to beat on the door, and I could feel the vibrations inside my chest. I wanted to escape but felt frozen. My heart was racing, and I was overcome by fear. Eventually, I broke away and ran down the hall. In the background, I could hear laughing. At the time, it sounded like an insane laugh reminiscent of those heard in horror movies. In retrospect, I believe it was the laugh of someone who felt he had just played the greatest joke on an unsuspecting, nosey kid. However, it took me quite some time before I deciphered that realization. I was freaked out for years, and at one point, I even had a fear that I could accidentally be locked up in a psych unit, never to escape.
Our family has an intuitive psychological understanding, which stems from my mom. However, I never thought of pursuing psychology in any form. I was a science guy and never took a psychology course as an undergrad.
Medical students rotate through all of the specialties as part of their training, and at Northwestern, all M3s are required to do a 6-week general psych rotation. This rotation was a low priority for me, and my main concern was completing it as simply as possible. I wanted a site close to Northwestern’s downtown campus for convenience and picked the least desirable one because it was only a block away. I knew I would get it because no one else would want it. It was a drop-in center for the sickest psych patients, the most chronically ill. There, they could socially mingle, play a game, attend a group, get medically seen, and renew their prescriptions. Fellow students told horror stories about bizarre behavior and poor hygiene. No one wanted that rotation, so I picked it. I could survive anything for six weeks, and I wouldn’t have to travel to a distant site to complete my obligation.
My first day was as expected: bizarre, often disheveled individuals milling about, talking, and sometimes shouting to themselves. Mismatched clothes, sometimes garish makeup. “It is only six weeks out of my life,” I told myself. “I’ll do this one day at a time.” I had many obligations at that place, from doing initial psychiatric evaluations, to being a group therapy leader, to helping manage meds, to injecting patients with long-acting antipsychotics. However, I also had more free time than was typical for a clinical rotation. I started to hang around the day room. Sometimes, I would sit in the day room and read; at other times, I would play a game with a client. Eventually, something strange happened. Patients would come up to me and start a conversation. Those conversations were not about meds or the latest therapy; they were about their lives, hopes, and dreams. They would ask me about me, not in an intrusive way but in an interested way. I was becoming part of their group. They seemed to look forward to seeing me.
One day, a client could be rational, on the following day, completely psychotic. As they gained trust in me, they let me into their life, and I developed an admiration for them. Despite having constant hallucinations and delusions, many could still navigate the world, form relationships, and problem-solve. I would lack these abilities under such circumstances. Many lived a life of scorn and rejection, yet many of their desires were no different from mine. They wanted to connect with others, have value, and have those basic needs that we all require. In this crazy setting, I was doing what I wanted: helping someone improve their life, even if it was just a tiny bit. Knowing the biochemistry of psych meds helped, but just relating to them as human beings was just as important. I looked forward to showing up, playing a game of checkers, or talking to them about their past and present lives. I always felt different growing up, but kind individuals seemed to find me and convinced me that being different was OK.
Here, I was dealing with people who had problems very different from mine, people who were very different from me, yet all I could see was how similar we were underneath. These were human beings, not trash. They deserved to have the best life that they could. I felt called to spend time with them.
Once again, my logic, planning, and goal-setting were about to be tested. I had so much training in hard science, but much of Psychiatry was soft science. However, my course of action was right before me and couldn’t be ignored. Hard science told me that I could use powerful drugs to block dopamine receptors and reduce psychotic symptoms. However, soft science showed me that listening and relating to another human could be even more powerful. My beliefs were being challenged, but I was willing to listen. But was this experience a fluke? The only way to find out was to test the hypothesis, and I did that by picking psych electives that were completely different from my drop-in center experience. I did, and my mind did not change.
And so it started: residency, becoming chief resident, jobs, co-founding a clinic, working with the underserved, then… then…then.
Do you ever think there is some guiding force beyond yourself that directs you if you allow that direction? A guardian angle? God’s direct interest in you? Some other force. Despite all of my planning, logic, and science, my best decisions in life seem to come from outside of me. Interesting, no?
I spent many years sitting at this desk in my co-founded clinic.
