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Reconcilable Differences By Andrew Christensen, PhD and Neil S. Jacobson, PhD Three Sides to Every Story Frank’s Story Debra never seems to be satisfied. I’m never doing enough, never giving enough, never loving enough, never sharing enough. You name it; I don’t do enough of it. There’s a line from an old song that goes “Too much is not enough.” That’s Debra. Or to put it another way, I sometimes think of the old Dylan song “Too Much of Nothing.” Debra sometimes acts like everything I do to please her amounts to nothing. I get no credit for what I do for her. I get no credit for what I do for her. Sometimes she gets me believing I really am a bad husband. I start feeling as though I’ve let her down, disappointed her, not met my obligations as a loving, supportive husband. But then I give myself a dose of reality. What have I done that’s wrong? I’m an okay human being. People usually like me and respect me. I hold down a responsible job. I don’t cheat on her or lie to her. I’m not a drunk or a gambler. I’m moderately attractive, and I’m a sensitive lover. I even make her laugh a lot. Yet I don’t get an ounce of appreciation from her – just complaints that I’m not doing enough. I think she must be insecure. She wants constant reassurance. I told her once in desperation, “Look, I love you. Until further notice to the contrary, you can assume that I still love you. I promise to inform you of any change in the status of these feelings. You don’t need to keep checking in.” Maybe she’s bored with her life. She’s always looking for high drama and excitement in the relationship. It’s really a soap-opera view of love, where everything has to be heavy and emotional. But I want our relationship to be a place where I can retreat from the stresses and demands of my life, not one more addition to them. She’s always asking me how I’m feeling. The truth is, sometimes I’m not feeling a damn thing. She seems to assume that my emotions are always bubbling and that I’m just stingy in refusing to share my inner life with her. But that’s not the way it is. Often I’m exhausted from work and just want to vegetate. I’ll flip on the TV, plop down on the sofa, suck on a beer, and “veg out.” It doesn’t matter what program is on – give me a good sitcom over PBS any day. Heck, I even like the commercials. I’m like a sponge, just soaking up sensations from the tube. I’m not there for intellectual stimulation or social chitchat. Maybe one of these days I’ll start growing vines from my ears, as Debra suggests. But to me it’s relaxing. Now I ask you: Is what I’m doing morally wrong? Is it constitutionally forbidden? Is it a positive sign of decadence? To hear Debra, you’d certainly think so. Debra accuses me of being an emotional pack rat, of storing bad feelings until an opportune time, but that’s not true. I don’t go around dwelling on whatever injustices or irritations I’ve had to put up with. I don’t hoard them in secret until I can reveal them in some dramatic display. But when I’m criticized for some small thing, I suddenly remember what I’ve suffered without a word, and I get furious at the injustice of it. I can handle most of my problems myself. I don’t lay them on other people, and I don’t hold others responsible for solving my problems. Debra can’t seem to understand that there are certain things that I can only work through alone.
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