In addition to my counseling work, I also am involved in training and consulting with organizations, leading them through organizational development and change. In the course of that work I’ve come across the writings of Robert Marshak, who talks about the different levels of activity that are going on in any organization. In its most basic form, Marshak’s theory goes like this: in any organization (and, I will assert, in any couple relationship), there are things that are 1) on the table; 2) under the table; and 3) in the clouds.

‘On the table’ is all the things we know are going on, being talked about, being worried about, being taken care of, being fought over. Our money problems, let’s say. Or our sexual problems. Maybe one of us crashed the car and we’re caught up in the aftermath of that, trying to find out from the insurance company if it’s totaled, and if so, what to do. That’s all on-the-table stuff.

‘Under the table’ is all the underlying power dynamics, unspoken assumptions, unrealized beliefs, and hidden cultural artifacts that flow in and out of an organization, or a relationship. For example, an employee may enjoy lots of paid family leave from her generous company, but not know that she enjoys this because the founder of the company was once a single mom who had a really hard time, and wants to build a family-friendly culture as a way to work out her own painful memories. Or, to take the above example, the couple talking about a car crash might not be aware that both of them were emotionally affected by the incident, and that’s why they’re squabbling about it. That’s all the under-the-table stuff.

‘In the clouds’ is the stuff of dreams, the hopes, wishes, and desires an organization (or a couple) has. Most of the time, these dreams are not known and acknowledged. They’re ‘up in the clouds,’ cut off from conscious awareness. A couple may be fighting because one of them has a dream for how she wants to live, or what she wants to do with her life, and that dream is not being honored—by herself or her partner.

As you reflect on your relationship, what do you think might be under the table, or in the clouds? Chances are excellent that the thing you’re worried about, or the thing you’re fighting about, has to do with something that’s not ‘on the table.’

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I encourage you to read this response by Andrew Sullivan to New York Times columnist Ross Douthat’s essay on heterosexual monogamy. (And if you want some background about my own views, I’ve posted before about monogamy.) I’ve long agreed with Sullivan that supporting gay/lesbian couples who marry is a powerful way to encourage monogamy (and, better yet, overall relationship health) for all couples. Ross Douthat is one of a dwindling number of thoughtful, moderate-conservative voices in our public discourse, and his essay is interesting. But Sullivan identifies the flaws in Douthat’s arguments, all the while showing the reader (through the wedding-day photos of him, his husband, and their family) what a happy, committed relationship looks like. It’s well worth a read!

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One of my close friends writes a great blog about her experience as a spouse and mother in a terrific little family of three. As the godfather of their daughter, I am delighted to have an orchestra-main-floor seat to watch them have adventures together! I encourage you to read her latest post, which discusses happiness—an emotion that can be hard to come by for parents.

I love happiness. Sometimes I think it’s my job to help people be happy, pure and simple. But my friend makes some great points: relationships—parent, spouse, friend—are not always about happiness. Sometimes they’re about your growth and development, which is usually painful. Other times, they’re about another person, so…your feelings and moods are not the point. Maybe all of this sounds obvious, but I know a lot of people who never question the assumption that their relationships are “supposed to make me happy.” Yes, they are…except when they aren’t!

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I want to say more about my recommendation that you not over-focus on the question of whether or not to stay in your relationship. This is just another way to look at it, and to do this I’ll say a little bit about my own story:

A little over ten years ago, I started seeing someone. We moved through the usual stages or phases of an early relationship, with all the ups and downs you might expect, until in 2003 we, well, “tied the knot.” (Our marriage, alas, is not yet recognized by the state. But that’s another story.) Since 2003, we’ve continued to build our life together, making lots of decisions you’ll recognize in your own life and relationships: should we get a dog? (yes); should we get another dog? (yes); should we get another dog? (yes); should we have children? (no); should we live near either of our families in Arizona and Minnesota? (no)… and so on. This is life in a long-term committed relationship. And right now, as we close in on eleven years together and I prepare for my 40th birthday next month, I can tell you: I’m happy.

But—there have been some losses. Some of the decisions we made (and no, the list above is not exhaustive) didn’t go in the direction I wanted. Sometimes we’ve made decisions together that have led me to feel a deep pang of loss. “If I were on my own,” I’d tell myself, “I wouldn’t do this.” Often in my work with clients, people come to counseling bearing the wounds of these losses. Or they come with anticipatory anxiety about the losses they’ll suffer if they hook up with a person, or stay with a person.

And here’s my latest take on all of this. First, the losses you’ve suffered—and will suffer—are real, and they are painful. No question. I won’t insult you by trying to minimize what you’ll lose if you decide to go a certain way in your life, career, or relationship. You will lose something. And most often that loss will really sting. So… why do it? Here’s why (if you ask me). Whatever I’ve decided in my life—over the past ten years with my partner, and in the years before that—and whether or not I’ve been conscious of this, I have always wanted to be happy, to have delightful experiences, to join with another person in ecstatic union (sexual and otherwise), to laugh, to love, to be loved… in short, I’ve always wanted my life on this planet to be wonderful.

And now that I’m pushing 40 (and pushing it hard), I’m finding that whatever choices I make, whether they’re thought through and careful, whimsical and adventurous, or just plain stupid (!), I always have a shot at the happiness I want. If I had chosen differently ten years ago, six years ago, two years ago, or yesterday, I would not be with my partner right now, and that would have been a loss. Ten years ago, it would have been a lost opportunity. Yesterday or two years ago or six years ago, it would have been deeply sad and life-changing. But even then, I would have had a shot at the happiness I want, just as much as I do now, with my partner but without some of the things I’ve lost along the way while deciding to be with this one person.

So… it all comes down to this: if you’re deeply torn about what to do because you know that either choice is going to be painful, can you also see that, no matter what choice you make (even if it’s a, well, bonehead stupid one!), you can still find the happiness you want? After all, you’ll always have yourself, no matter what you choose. And you have a lot of say in what you do with yourself, no matter where you choose to take your life, and no matter where life takes you.

Does this open up the topic and clarify things a bit more? If not, I’d love to hear your comments and questions.

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Most couples begin their couples counseling work by asking the question, “Should we stay together?” Sometimes only one of them is fixated on this question, but most often it’s on both of their minds. “Can I stay if I can’t trust him?” “If I don’t feel love for her, should I stay with her?” “If he doesn’t love me, should we break up?” These are examples of the same ‘should-we-stay-or-should-we-go’ question.

And here’s what I recommend: don’t ask that question…yet. There will be time for it down the road. If you’re thinking about couples counseling, ask one of these questions first:

1. What do I need to do to be a healthier and more functional partner?
2. What is my ‘gripe’ about my spouse, and how can I articulate it to him/her so that my true concern is spoken and heard?
3. What is my vision for my relationship? Can I articulate that vision to myself, and also my partner?
4. What do I need to do as a next step in my own development as a mature adult?

These are just a few examples of questions I often encourage my clients to ask themselves. They’re a lot more complex—and, I think, rewarding—than the “Should I stay or should I go?” question. And if you’re working on these questions, you’ll find that whatever happens to your partnership/marriage—whether or not you stay together—you’ll come through it with a lot more insight about yourself, and a lot more tools to help yourself in whatever situation awaits you, whether it’s a restored relationship with your partner, a brand-new relationship with someone else, or a new life as a single person.

So if you’re not sure what will happen to your relationship, don’t worry. That’s not the most important question. We have a lot of other things to discuss first!

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I was saddened to hear that Al and Tipper Gore are separating, and at the same time I was intrigued by the nationwide reaction. Lots of people reacted as I did—”That’s sad!” we all cried out.

But is it?

Michelle Cottle, one of my favorite journalists, offered this take on the Gore separation. I like what she said. As upsetting as it might be for many of us who look to public figures to exemplify healthy marriages, it’s not all that hard to see how this separation makes good sense for this particular couple, and need not be seen as evidence that marriage in general is in trouble. My partner and I have been together for ten years, and if I have my way, we’ll be toasting each other at our fiftieth in 2049, with hopes for another 20 years of love and happiness. (He’s a really great guy.) But some couples follow a different path. Notice Michelle’s comment about the “unblinking” public eye that gazed upon the Gores for so long. Could your marriage survive that? Maybe. But it makes sense if Al and Tipper found themselves at an impasse, even though they’ve been together for so long. (Or…because they’ve been together for so long…)

If you’re a curious, courageous soul who loves your spouse and hopes to enjoy a lifelong marriage, you won’t necessarily suffer the fate of Al and Tipper. Anything is possible, but conscious intent is powerful. If you’re worried or saddened by the Gores’ story, take some time to talk to your spouse. Find out whether s/he feels you’re both doing okay. Try to be flexible, open, and daring as the two of you learn from the experiences of other couples and plan a bright future together.

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I’ve been reflecting a lot in recent weeks about the experience of holding–holding someone (literally and/or emotionally), and allowing oneself to be held. Why is this so hard for so many of us?

It was the genius Erik Erikson who talked about that line from the traditional wedding vow–”to have and to hold”–and how it expresses a fundamental task of human development. In his writings, which were among the first building blocks of what’s now called ‘Object Relations’ theory, Erikson reflected on the human need to have and hold things–and to have and hold people. As a human being moves through the stages of life, two basic experiences are repeated again and again: saying ‘yes’ to others (having and holding), and saying ‘no’ to others (separating and rejecting). Both are essential.

(Do you wonder why the ability to separate and reject is essential? Think about what you should be able to do if you find yourself in an abusive relationship.)

Often, in my work with couples, I see people strugging to hold the other person, even if the ‘holding’ in question is simply being emotionally present while the other person is expressing herself. And I see people struggling to allow themselves to be held. “I’m fine,” someone will say, brushing away tears and dropping eye contact. “No you’re not,” I sometimes say. And I (gently!) add, “You know you’re not. I know you’re not. Why do you think I have Kleenex in my office?!”

If you and your partner are going through a rough time–and even if tempers are high and trust is low–what would it be like for one of you to work on your holding skills? What would it be like to experiment with being more emotionally present to your partner, even if your partner has not earned your trust? It would be hard, I can tell you. But it would be a powerful way for you to grow and develop as a human being: even in situations where you’re not feeling safe, you’re better able to be more fully present, both to yourself and to the other person. And sometimes you may discover that the other person is actually not as frightening or untrustworthy as you thought: when you get better at holding and being held, the other person might notice this going on in you, begin to relax, and engage with you with more understanding, compassion, and honesty.

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For a long time I’ve been thinking about wedding vows and how they can be a well-intentioned but problematic way to begin a marriage/partnership. I’ve tried to come up with a wedding vow that not only promises lifelong fidelity, but lifelong growth and maturity–even if that growth might lead to the end of the relationship.

Practically speaking, this is probably just a little mental exercise for me, an attempt to write a wedding vow that would never actually be taken by someone. I say this because weddings and union ceremonies are highly emotional events, and the couple in question invariably wants to emphasize the “until death do we part” theme. On a wedding day, nobody wants to think about the things you go to couples counseling to work on. And often enough, there’s nothing wrong with that. Some couples seem to be made for each other, and their wedding-day bliss makes for a great opening scene to a long and nourishing life together.

But most couples–and I count myself in this group–go through the ordinary developmental crises that intimate relationships face: the need for both persons to grow and mature; the difficulties they face at different stages in their lives; the ways they handle (or mishandle) anxiety, anger, distrust, and discord; and the inevitable ups and downs of sex, money, in-laws, kids, careers, substance use, and…well, you get the idea. For me, phrases like “in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer” just don’t cut it.

So here goes: my attempt at a wedding vow that gets a little closer to what I think a healthy marriage/partnership is. I’ll start with two examples of typical vows, then offer my own.

Here’s a traditional vow that most people hear at most weddings (particularly in the movies): “I take you, _____, to be my _____, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.”

That’s your basic vow–short and eloquent, with the usual polarities (healthy/sick, rich/poor). One concern, though: it doesn’t say much about the inevitable difficulties couples face in the dynamics of a typical relationship, and I wonder if more marriages would last if the couple had words for what they would do if their relationship were in real trouble. This vow is short and elegant, but to a fault. It doesn’t say enough.

Here’s the vow I took in a blessing ceremony with my partner in 2003: “I, _____ give myself to you, _____, and these things I promise you: I will be faithful to you and honest with you; I will respect, trust, help, and care for you; I will forgive you as we have been forgiven; and I will share my life with you, through the best and worst of all that is to come, until death parts us.”

That’s better. It assumes there will be conflict (“I will forgive you…”), it stresses the importance of honesty and respect, and it drops the usual “sickness/health” language for “the best and worst of all that is to come,” which to my ears rings with a deeper wisdom.

But I still think we’re not there yet. Here’s my first stab at a vow that might bear the “Therapist Seal of Approval”: “I, _____ offer myself to you, _____, and these things I promise you: in times of rejoicing, I will celebrate with you; in times of sorrow, I will weep with you. When we fight, I will be honest with you; when I am wrong, I will seek your forgiveness. I will strive to share with you a life of respect, trust, growth, and love, through the best and worst of all that is to come, until death parts us.”

Hmm… I think that’s better. For starters, I like “I offer myself to you” more than “I give myself to you.” It implies the freedom of the other person to say, “No, thanks” to my giving of myself, and even though this is really not the best moment to do that, it’s healthy for couples to remember that they are freely offering themselves to one another, and freely choosing not to say No to the offer. This vow also assumes that not only will there be conflict, but that the person taking the vow will sometimes be wrong.

And finally, that last line: “I will strive to share with you…” That’s the line that I think would be hard for couples to say to each other. There’s an obvious (and big!) loophole: striving to do something isn’t the same as simply doing it. If I promise to strive, that implies that I could decide at some point that it won’t work, and the striving isn’t worth it. It’s the kind of thing a hospital might tell a patient: “We will strive to save your life…” If the patient dies, well, the hospital still strived. It also sounds a little klutzy, I think. It sounds like the kind of language you hear in Therapyland.

But I can’t figure out a better way to take a healthy wedding/partnership vow. There are millions of well-intentioned, good people in the world who take the traditional vow and wind up divorced. And because they assumed all along that they both made promises of unconditional fidelity, it’s hard to see the divorce as anything but a dismal failure. But many divorces are actually the healthiest option for the couples in question. Can you imagine a few scenarios in which divorce is the better choice? I’m sure you can. Again, it’s probably in bad taste to raise these issues on a wedding day. Lots of people would probably be superstitious about it–that if you talk about it, you’re tempting fate. But I maintain that a healthier vow makes for a healthier marriage.

As for the klutzy language, all I can say is, I’m working on it!

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