Read Dance of Anger: A Woman's Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships Online
Authors: Harriet Lerner
Tags: #Anger Management, #Personal Growth, #Happiness, #Self-Help
Dance of Anger: A Woman's Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships (18 page)
What about sharing her problem with Brian in a non-blaming way? Lois could approach him when things are calm in their relationship and say, “When you call me to ask for money and advice, my initial reaction is to give it. But after I give it and I see that it hasn’t really helped, I start to feel resentful. Maybe it’s partly from my own wish to be helpful that I end up feeling frustrated. But I don’t want things to continue this way. Please don’t ask me to lend you money unless you can pay it back. And please don’t ask me for advice if you’re just going to do your own thing anyway.”
It won’t work—or at least it won’t change the pattern. Communication of this sort is preferable to blaming Brian (“Brian, you’re an exploitative, irresponsible, manipulative psychopath”) or interpreting his motives (“I think you are using me”). Nonetheless, if Lois wishes to change this overfunctioning-underfunctioning pattern, she cannot do so simply by expressing her feelings or asking Brian to change.
She will have to stop overfunctioning.
What specifically does this mean?
If Lois wants to change the old pattern with Brian, she can put the brakes on being helpful. Sound simple? For those of us who believe it is our sacred calling to save other people and shape them up, the hardest thing in the world is to
stop
trying to be helpful.
How does one go about not trying to be helpful? How does one stop rescuing another family member? Here’s an example:
The next time Brian calls Lois in distress, Lois can listen sympathetically and ask him questions about his situation. And she can say in a low-keyed way, “It sounds like you’re really having a hard time, Brian. I’m sorry to hear that.”
If Brian asks her for money, she can say, “I’ve decided not to lend you any more money, Brian. There are a bunch of things that I’m saving for and I’ve decided that’s my first priority—you’re on your own, kid.” If Lois can do this with warmth and humor, all the better. For example, if Brian says accusingly, “That’s selfish,” Lois might say, “You’re probably right. I think I am getting more selfish in my old age.”
If Brian courts her advice, Lois can bite her tongue and say, “Well, I really just don’t know,” or, “I wish I could be helpful, but you know, Brian, I just don’t know what to say.” Then Lois might proceed to share a little bit about what she is currently struggling with and perhaps ask Brian if he has any thoughts about her dilemma. Another thing Lois can do is to express confidence in Brian’s ability to find his own solutions: “I know you’ve been struggling for a long time to get on top of things, but I have faith that you’ll eventually work it out. I think you’re a really bright guy.”
Learning how not to be helpful requires a certain attitude toward relationships and an ability to strike the right balance between the forces of separateness and togetherness. If Lois’s tone is, “Don’t try to involve
me
, it’s not
my
problem,” the old pattern won’t change. This is a reactive and distancing position. Similarly, if Lois says, “Well, I’m not going to give you any advice or money from now on because it’s not good for you, Brian,” she is simply doing another variation of her therapeutic “I-really-know-what’s-best-for-you” attitude. Learning how
not
to be helpful requires that we begin to acknowledge that we do not have the answers or solutions to other people’s problems. In fact, we don’t even have the answers to all of our own.
Does this mean that Lois should never, ever offer Brian advice for as long as they both shall live? Down the road a bit, as the pattern starts to shift, Lois might give Brian advice
if
he asks for it and
if
she observes that it’s useful. But there is advice-giving—and then there is advice-giving!
There is nothing wrong with giving another person advice (“This is what I think . . .” or, “In my experience, this has worked for me”) as long as we recognize that we are stating an opinion that may or may not fit for the other person. We start to overfunction, however, when we assume that we know what’s best for the other person and we want them to do it our way. If Lois feels angry when Brian does not follow her advice, that’s a good indication that she should not be giving it.
It is also the case that those closest to us may have the greatest difficulty considering our advice if we come across as though we have the final word on their lives. Lois’s typical style, for example, is to lecture Brian about the importance of his getting professional help and then to get angry at him for not following through. Brian would have a better opportunity to evaluate this option if Lois were to say (and only if asked), “Well, therapy has been pretty helpful to me in my own life, so I’m all for it. But not everyone is alike and you may be more of a do-it-yourselfer. What do you think?” Giving advice in this way is not just a strategic move; it is a mature approach that takes into account the separateness and “otherness” of her brother. Further, it acknowledges that people are different and that we all have the ability to become the best experts on our own selves.
As we saw with Maggie and her mother, there is hardly anything more important than emotionally hanging in—especially when we are shifting a pattern. Lois’s task is to show her concern for Brian at the same time that she stops trying to help him solve his problems. How can she do this?
Lois can call Brian while he’s having a hard time simply to touch base with him. She might say, “I know I’m not much help to you at this time, but I just wanted to hear how you’re doing and let you know that I care about you.” She might increase her contact with Brian and invite him to have dinner with her family.
Stepping back and allowing the other person to struggle with his or her own problems is not the same as emotional withdrawal.
Lois can stop trying to bail Brian out, yet still express her support and interest as he goes through a difficult time.
Maintaining emotional contact is never easy at this point in a changing relationship. Our natural tendency may be either to fight or to emotionally distance ourselves because we are uncertain about our position and how to maintain it in the face of pressures to do otherwise, a big part of which is our own anxiety about really changing. Hanging in requires us to move against enormous internal resistance, which is most often experienced as anger (“Why should I get in touch with him when he’s acting this way?”) or inertia (“I just don’t feel like taking the initiative”).
In therapy sessions, Lois discussed her problems and pain with me, but within her own family, and especially with Brian, she was always fine and didn’t need anything from anybody. Like all good overfunctioners, Lois was convinced that sharing her struggles and vulnerability with Brian was absolutely out of the question. (“I would never tell Brian that I was depressed; I have absolutely no desire to do so and he has more than enough problems of his own.” “Brian can’t deal with my feelings.” “Why burden him; there is no way he can be helpful to me.”) The relationship between Lois and Brian was extremely polarized, with Brian expressing only his weakness and Lois only her competence.
If Lois wants to shift the old pattern, she can present a more balanced picture of herself and begin to share a bit about her own travails with Brian. For example, when Brian calls to talk about his recent crises, Lois can say, “Brian, I wish I could be more useful, but I’m no good for much of anything right now. In fact, I’ve been feeling lousy all day. I’m sorry you’re feeling bad, but I just don’t have much energy to give to anyone else. Part of the problem is that I’ve been feeling dissatisfied with my job for a long time, but today it really came to a head and I got real down in the dumps.” If we are dealing with depressed or underfunctioning individuals, the least helpful thing we can do is to keep focusing on
their
problems and trying to be helpful.
The most helpful thing we can do is begin to share part of our own underfunctioning side.
Finally, Lois must be prepared to deal with Brian’s countermoves. As sure as the sun rises in the morning, Brian will up the ante and attempt to reinstate the old pattern. If he has been requesting money to help pay his electric bills, his next request is bound to find him starving to death or about to be thrown in jail. This is the point at which we are truly put to the test. We either give ourselves an excuse to go back to our old ways and blame the other party (“Well, I couldn’t let my own brother die in the streets, could I?”), or we sit with some anxiety and guilt and maintain our new position. If Lois can calmly continue not to rescue Brian or attempt to solve his problems—while offering him emotional support and contact—his countermoves are likely to decrease rather dramatically. They will pop up only periodically as he tests out the waters of their relationship over time.
What light does Lois’s story shed on the question we started out with: “Who is responsible for what?” It provides us with a good example of how we may be too responsible for another person and, at the same time, not responsible enough for our own behavior. Lois is feeling angry because she assumes too much responsibility for her brother’s problems; she advises, rescues, and bails Brian out. She has difficulty simply being there and letting him struggle on his own. At the same time, however, Lois does not assume enough responsibility for examining how her own behavior contributes to the pattern she’s so eager to change. She is stuck in a position that blocks her from reflecting upon her situation and figuring out how she can take a new stance that will free her from the old rules and roles.
While it is hard to change in the short run, there are long-term costs of maintaining the status quo. Most obvious are the costs for Brian. Lois is a devoted big sister, but, by persisting in her unsuccessful attempts to advise and rescue her brother and failing to show him her own vulnerable side, she is doing the least helpful things that one can do with an underfunctioning individual. Less obvious but no less important is the price that Lois pays personally for the position she holds in this relationship, as evidenced by her chronic anger and high level of stress. When we overfunction, we may have a difficult time allowing others to take over and care for us, so that we can just relax or have the luxury of falling apart for a little while. Lois, the caretaker and helper for others, has lost sight of her own needs and challenges of continued growth, which she can sweep under the rug because she “needs to care for her brother.” By continuing to feel responsible for the other party, Lois ends up underfunctioning for her own self.
Self-blaming and child-blaming remain an occupational hazard for many mothers today. “What’s wrong with me?” and/or “What’s wrong with this child?” are the two questions mothers learn to ask themselves as they are handed over the primary responsibility for all family problems. We have fostered in mothers the omnipotent fantasy that their child’s behavior—their very “being”—is mother’s doing: If the child performs well, she is considered a “good mother”; if poorly, a “bad mother,” who caused the problem. It is as if the mother
is
the child’s environment. Until recently, father, the family, the society in which the family is embedded—all these did not
really
count.
As mothers, we are led to believe that we
can
, and
should
, control things that are not realistically within our control. Many of us do feel an excessive need to control our children’s behavior, to prove to ourselves, to our own mothers, and to the world that we are good mothers. However, the mother who is dominated by anger because she feels helpless to control her child is often caught in that paradox that underlies our difficulties with this emotion. We may view it as our responsibility to control something that is not in fact within our control and yet fail to exercise the power and authority that we
do
have over our own behavior. Mothers cannot
make
children think, feel, or be a certain way, but we can be firm, consistent, and clear about what
behavior
we will and will not tolerate, and what the consequences are for misbehavior. We can also change our part in patterns that keep family members stuck. At the same time we are doomed to failure with any self-help venture if we view the problem as existing within ourselves—or within the child or the child’s father, for that matter. There is never one villain in family life, although it may appear that way on the surface.
Angry power struggles with kids often boil down to this: We may
overfunction
, or move in too much, when it comes to their thoughts and feelings. At the same time, we may
underfunction
when it comes to clarifying our own position and setting rules about behavior. Here is a typical example:
Alicia, who had been divorced for several months, was starting to date a man named Carlos. “I like him, but my daughter doesn’t,” Alicia explained. “Whenever Carlos and I are about to leave the house together, Claudia, who’s four, begins to sob mournfully as if her little heart is breaking. Perhaps it has to do with her loyalty to her father, but she just doesn’t like Carlos and she doesn’t like me to be alone with him. She treats him rudely and refuses to speak to him. Sometimes she has a full-blown temper tantrum when the two of us are about to walk out the door. I feel such rage at her that I can’t even be sympathetic.”
“And what do you do when Claudia does these things?” I inquired.
“When I’m feeling calm, I try to
reason
with her,” explained Alicia. “I let her know that I need to go out and that there is no reason for her to be upset about it. I tell her that soon she will get used to my going out and then it won’t bother her. I explain to her that Carlos is a very nice man and that if only she would make the effort, she would like him.”
