Standard Issue Standards Issues

Posted by fxckfeelings on July 26, 2010

Everyone wants to wow the one they love, but sometimes, no matter how good our behavior, kind our gestures, well-trained our show-poodles are, we fail to make an impression. When you can’t get praise from or live up to someone you care about, it’s not the end of the world. Besides, you’ll always have those show-poodles to fall back on.
–Dr. Lastname

I’ve worked hard at managing my temper—I can’t help it, I can always find something to be mad about, even when my family is behaving perfectly—and I’ve become really good at not snapping at my husband and kids. The kids are great, but my husband doesn’t seem to give me credit for how much better I’ve gotten, and he hasn’t gotten any nicer himself. He still treats me all defensively, as if I’m Godzillette, and it’s starting to get me mad. My goal is to get some credit for the progress I’ve made and achieve more marital peace.

If you want credit, here you go; One million space bucks worth of reward for your good deeds and strong effort. Now go in marital peace.

While you deserve marital credit from your husband, too, making it a goal to get what’s fair from anyone, especially a spouse, is usually a bad idea.

The search for justice, marital or otherwise, leads to your telling your spouse why it would be fair for him to be more appreciative, and then he explains to you how he’s been very, very appreciative and you haven’t been appreciative of his efforts, and you’ll wish you never started.

Then perhaps you two go to a marriage counselor who tries to make you both feel appreciated, which feels much better . . . during the treatment session and for a short time thereafter.

Once things go back to normal, which they inevitably do, you’re both more disappointed and resentful because, after you’ve invested all this time and money in treatment, you both still feel unappreciated, and now you’ve blown all your entertainment money on therapy and you’re stuck in the house together even more.

So, as much as you might wish and deserve for him to appreciate your new temper-control muscles, (and as much as it would serve his interests as well), it’s dangerous to make it your goal. Your goal is to accept the fact that, for some reason that has little to do with you, he doesn’t notice your efforts and/or is too negative to be appreciative. And they say opposites attract.

Come to think of it, you probably have some reason to believe that that’s the way he is. It’s not a matter of his loving you more or less; it may be depression, or being overwhelmed by other things, or he’s color blind and you’re explaining red.

You’re aware of your temper, and kudos for that. Your husband, however, is not aware of his negativity, and trying to get him to see the light will do the opposite. You do the work, he doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean you’re doomed.

Assuming he’s still a good partner, ask yourself how to make the best of things. Your main job is to give yourself credit and lower your expectations for his judgment and appreciation.

Keep up the good fight, which is the fight to keep your temper from getting the best of you. Give up the bad fight, which is the one for a deserved pat on the back.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement to counteract the inner protest to the life fairness referee. “I’m proud of how well I’ve been managing my temper, and I’m even prouder since I realized that I’ve been tolerating my husband’s infuriating inability to understand what gets me mad and give me credit for dealing with it constructively 99% of the time. We’d both be a lot happier if he wasn’t so dense; but he is, and I deal with it amazingly well.”

I’m really not a good friend, because I don’t like to call people regularly or bring them food when they’re sick, and I think it’s because I’ve never been able to grieve my father’s death. He was a warm, kind person who drove me crazy by wanting to know why I was unhappy and telling me what I should do, and I couldn’t stop fighting with him and then he died before we could make up. Now, I’ve got some good people in my life whom I’ve known for years, but I don’t have the kind of closeness with them my dad could create with a stranger. My goal, if I could do it, would be to get over my father’s death and become a better friend.

It’s hard to have a father who lives up to your values better than you do, but it’s a mistake to try to fit into his shoes when they’re just the wrong size.

Yes, it’s possible that grief has blocked your ability to be a better friend and that psychotherapy could release your potential. If you’ve had a good try at psychotherapy before, however, a connection between grief and your friendship deficit is less likely. Aside from the fact grief and friendship share a few letters, the connection isn’t immediately clear.

The bad news then is that, unlike your father, you’re a more guarded person, which likely won’t change. The good news is that you haven’t failed to live up to your father; you’re simply a different person, and not necessarily a worse one.

Being a little warmth-deprived does not need to stop you from being a good guy and a good friend. You just have to work harder, which is hard to do if you blame yourself for poor friendship performance, which makes you more isolated and less energetic, which makes you withdrawn, which makes you more self-critical, and around it goes. Self-blame and shame are probably your biggest obstacles to being a better friend.

Once you give up believing that your basic approach to friendship can, and should, change, and accept the fact that you’re not like your father, then you’re free to examine the obstacles to your being as good a friend as you can be, given your own style and personality.

The problem may be one of distraction, disorganization, or not being able to keep track of non-crisis priorities. If you examine what interferes with your friendship-homework, you’ll probably find some ways to be a better friend. Even if you aren’t just like you’re dad, your efforts honor his legacy.

STATEMENT:
Meanwhile, you need a statement to fight the paralysis of self-blame. “My loneliness is not a result of, or punishment for, my inability to live up to my father’s friendship achievements; it’s just a fact of life that happens sometimes for someone with my personality. I honor his values by trying to be the best friend I can be with the personality I’ve got, and I talk to him, in my mind, with respect and gratitude and without reason for guilt.”