THE STAGES OF MARRIAGE: STRUGGLING TO CHANGE EACH OTHER
At first, this second stage of marriage involves a growing awareness of the limits to which our own developmental pains will be soothed by this relationship: "No matter how talkative my wife is, I'm still shy." "No matter how laid back my husband acts, I'm still a workaholic." "No matter how much she models social drinking for me, I'm still alcoholic." "No matter how nurturing he acts, I still feel unloved."
Sooner or later this awareness leads us to complain, privately or to someone else, about our partner's failure to change: "I'm nurturing him as much as I can, but he still has a violent temper." "I thought when we got married that she just needed a tender lover to help her to trust men again, but she's still just as cold and distant as ever." "I figured that once we had kids he'd have a reason to take better care of himself, but he just keeps on working himself to death."
As frustrations and fears mount, the marriage enters a stage filled with struggles. The couple struggle to change each other enough to (1) make a positive difference in their individual struggles with their own psychological issues and (2) match their images of who they thought the other person was when they first met. Couples in this stage of marriage use many methods of trying to make each other change to fit their ideal:
They may say, "You promised": "You promised you would stop working such long hours after we got married. Here it is six years later, and you're away from home more than ever."
They may accuse, "You've changed": "Why do you always harp on this? You knew I was serious about my career when we got married, and you didn't say a word about it then. You knew what you were getting when you got me. I'm just being me; you've changed."
They may plead, "For the sake of": "For the sake of our children, if not for me, please learn to control your temper." "For the sake of your own health, you have to learn to slow down and not worry so much." "For God's sake, why don't you start enjoying life like you used to when we first met?"
The struggle heats up as neither person gives in to the other's requests for change. As they realize that they will not achieve change through any of these methods, a couple may try a new tactic. One spouse may assume the role of the pursuer, always seeking information, communication, contact, and intimacy from the other. The other spouse becomes the distancer, always reacting with distraction, fatigue, disinterest, worry, absence, or some other form of avoidance of intimacy.
The more the first person pursues, the more the second person distances, and the more the first person pursues. Finally the pursuer gets fed up or fatigued and starts to withdraw or give up, only to find that the distancer is suddenly interested in connection. Delighted with this turn of events, the pursuer becomes available, but the distancer then backs off, and the pursuer-distancer dance continues. Observing such couples reminds me of watching two magnets of the same charge chase each other about a table, never able to come into direct contact.
As frustration in this stage of marriage grows, the couple begins to lament, silently or aloud, the way the marriage has turned out. A growing awareness develops: "This is no dress rehearsal; this is the only life I've got to live, and I'm tired of this struggle." Things really heat up as one partner's struggle to get the other to change drifts into accusations such as, "The older you get, the more you remind me of your mama [or daddy]." (This is a surefire way to elicit irrational anger from your spouse during an argument. Don't try it!) When these accusations also fail to create miraculous changes in the marital process, partners begin to lament their lot in life: "I'm afraid we might have gotten married for more wrong reasons than right reasons."
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