Dance of Anger: A Woman's Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships by Harriet Lerner
Authors: Harriet Lerner
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something with her anger that isn’t working and yet keeps doing it.
Even rats in a maze learn to vary their behavior if they keep hitting a dead end. Why in the world, then, do we behave less intelligently than laboratory animals? The answer, by now, may be obvious. Repeating the same old fights protects us from the anxieties we are bound to experience when we make a change. Ineffective fighting allows us to stop the clock when our efforts to achieve greater clarity become too threatening. Sometimes staying stuck is what we need to do until the time comes when we are confident that it is safe to get unstuck.
Sometimes, however, even when we are ready to risk change, we still keep participating in the same old familiar fights that go nowhere. Human nature is such that when we are angry, we tend to become so emotionally reactive to what the other person is doing to us that we lose our ability to observe our own part in the interaction. Self-observation is not at all the same as self-blame, at which some women are experts. Rather, self-observation is the process of seeing the interaction of ourselves and others, and recognizing that the ways other people behave with us has something to do with the way we behave with them. We cannot make another person be different, but when we do something different ourselves, the old dance can no longer continue as usual.
The story of Sandra and Larry, a couple who sought my help, is a story about getting unstuck. While the content of their struggles may or may not hit home, the form of the dance they do together is almost universal. For this couple, like many, was caught in a circular dance in which the behavior of each served to maintain and provoke that of the other. Once we are part of an established twosome—married or unmarried, lesbian or straight—we may easily become caught in such a dance. When this happens, the more each person tries to change things, the more things stay the same.
SANDRA AND LARRY
“Well, how do each of you see the problem in your marriage?” I inquired. It was my first meeting with Sandra and Larry, who had requested marital therapy at Sandra’s initiative. My eyes fell first on Larry and then on Sandra, who quickly picked up the invitation to speak. She turned her body in my direction and cupped her hands against her face. Like blinders, they blocked Larry from her view.
With unveiled anger in her voice, Sandra listed her complaints. It was evident that she had told her story before. It was also evident that she thought the “problem” was her husband.
“First of all, he’s a workaholic,” she began. “He neglects the kids and me. I don’t even think he knows how to relate to us anymore. He’s a stranger in his own family.” Sandra paused for a moment, drew a deep breath, and continued: “He acts like he expects me to run the house and deal with the kids all by myself, and then when something goes wrong, he tells me I’m crazy to be reacting so emotionally. He’s not available and he never expresses his feelings about things that should worry him.”
“When Larry comes home, and you’re upset about something at home, how do you ask for his support and help?” I asked.
“I tell him that I’m really upset, that I’m worried about our money situation, and that Jeff is sick, and that I had to miss my class, and that I’m going nuts with the baby today. But he just looks at me and criticizes me that the dinner isn’t ready, or tells me that I’m overreacting. He always says, ‘Why do you get so damn emotional about everything?’ He makes me want to scream!”
Sandra fell silent and Larry said nothing. After several minutes, Sandra continued, her anger now laced with tears: “I’m tired of being at the bottom of his list of priorities. He hardly ever takes the initiative to relate to me and he neglects the kids, too. And then, when he does decide that he wants to be a father, he just takes over like he’s the only one in
Even rats in a maze learn to vary their behavior if they keep hitting a dead end. Why in the world, then, do we behave less intelligently than laboratory animals? The answer, by now, may be obvious. Repeating the same old fights protects us from the anxieties we are bound to experience when we make a change. Ineffective fighting allows us to stop the clock when our efforts to achieve greater clarity become too threatening. Sometimes staying stuck is what we need to do until the time comes when we are confident that it is safe to get unstuck.
Sometimes, however, even when we are ready to risk change, we still keep participating in the same old familiar fights that go nowhere. Human nature is such that when we are angry, we tend to become so emotionally reactive to what the other person is doing to us that we lose our ability to observe our own part in the interaction. Self-observation is not at all the same as self-blame, at which some women are experts. Rather, self-observation is the process of seeing the interaction of ourselves and others, and recognizing that the ways other people behave with us has something to do with the way we behave with them. We cannot make another person be different, but when we do something different ourselves, the old dance can no longer continue as usual.
The story of Sandra and Larry, a couple who sought my help, is a story about getting unstuck. While the content of their struggles may or may not hit home, the form of the dance they do together is almost universal. For this couple, like many, was caught in a circular dance in which the behavior of each served to maintain and provoke that of the other. Once we are part of an established twosome—married or unmarried, lesbian or straight—we may easily become caught in such a dance. When this happens, the more each person tries to change things, the more things stay the same.
SANDRA AND LARRY
“Well, how do each of you see the problem in your marriage?” I inquired. It was my first meeting with Sandra and Larry, who had requested marital therapy at Sandra’s initiative. My eyes fell first on Larry and then on Sandra, who quickly picked up the invitation to speak. She turned her body in my direction and cupped her hands against her face. Like blinders, they blocked Larry from her view.
With unveiled anger in her voice, Sandra listed her complaints. It was evident that she had told her story before. It was also evident that she thought the “problem” was her husband.
“First of all, he’s a workaholic,” she began. “He neglects the kids and me. I don’t even think he knows how to relate to us anymore. He’s a stranger in his own family.” Sandra paused for a moment, drew a deep breath, and continued: “He acts like he expects me to run the house and deal with the kids all by myself, and then when something goes wrong, he tells me I’m crazy to be reacting so emotionally. He’s not available and he never expresses his feelings about things that should worry him.”
“When Larry comes home, and you’re upset about something at home, how do you ask for his support and help?” I asked.
“I tell him that I’m really upset, that I’m worried about our money situation, and that Jeff is sick, and that I had to miss my class, and that I’m going nuts with the baby today. But he just looks at me and criticizes me that the dinner isn’t ready, or tells me that I’m overreacting. He always says, ‘Why do you get so damn emotional about everything?’ He makes me want to scream!”
Sandra fell silent and Larry said nothing. After several minutes, Sandra continued, her anger now laced with tears: “I’m tired of being at the bottom of his list of priorities. He hardly ever takes the initiative to relate to me and he neglects the kids, too. And then, when he does decide that he wants to be a father, he just takes over like he’s the only one in
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