Homework is visiting the famous Cold War relic. In a long relationship ‘you might start with a bit of barbed wire between you, then build up to shoot-to-kill!’
feelings of being in the therapy room. We take it in turns.
As ‘the speaker’ talks (briefly!), the other has to summarise what they’ve said and, when finished summarising, asks: ‘Is that right?’
If the answer is ‘yes’, the listener asks: ‘Is there more?’ and allows the speaker to add detail if the listener has missed it out.
But if the answer to ‘Is that right?’ is ‘no’, then the original speaker reports what was said or what was missed out and the receiver has another go.
Three things, Andrew says, get in the way of good communication — interrupting, being busy preparing your defence (which means you stop listening), or what he calls ‘chunking’, spewing out so much information that your partner doesn’t know what to react to.
That evening, over pasta, we practise our listening skills. It’s harder than it sounds. We keep getting it wrong and it feels stilted, but we get there eventually and giggle while we’re doing it.
We feel at ease in Berlin. Something about being on holiday, without the pressures of daily life, makes this forensic examination of how we communicate feel less loaded, less self-defensive, than it would at home.
DAY TWO
We BeGIN to talk about some of the things that impact our relationship. One eye-opener (with Andrew’s help) is that when we examine my list of differences, it becomes clear I’m classing myself as ‘good’ and Ronny as ‘bad’. Ironically, Ronny, who is his own harshest critic, feels that I rightly emerge as the goodie and him as the baddie. Andrew gives us a wry smile. ‘A good match, but is it helpful?’ he asks. he encourages us away from comparative thinking — good vs bad, brilliant vs rubbish, right vs wrong — and asks us to be more contemplative when differences arise between us. For example, we might be loving and judgmental, nice and not nice.
I bring in the fact that Ronny rarely complains about me, puts me on a pedestal and goes around telling people how wonderful I am, which I find burdensome.
The previous night, I finally got him to admit what drives him mad about me. When he said it frustrates him that I’m so rational, so cool in my analysis, whereas he’s passionate, it was a relief. I was able to acknowledge he is a passionate person and I love that about him — maybe I’m envious.
Our next homework is to go to the Berlin Wall Memorial park and museum and think about walls in a contemplative way, but also about ‘boundaries’ and how they might differ from walls.
Despite the heat, we have a spring in our step. Difficult things are being said, but it’s bringing us closer, not pushing us away.
DAY THREE
IT’S now that I find myself grabbing at the tissue box. Ronny says something that sets me off, something that shows he understands my anxieties and the difficulties I have in talking about them.
It’s the first time I’ve been in a relationship with a man who is better at expressing his feelings than I am and, sometimes, I’m overwhelmed by his need to dig deep. ‘It’s a good feeling,’ I stutter, as I dab at my tears. ‘It makes me feel lucky to have him because he has such compassion for me. The things that irritate are so petty compared to this.’
On the business of walls and boundaries, we find it easier to see the positives in boundaries.
Walls, we agree, divide and imprison, create animosity and block the view. We build them as a conscious or unconscious protection against misunderstandings and misconceptions and reduced respect and neglect.
But boundaries are necessary. They provide privacy, create clarity, allow individuality, rather than enmeshment, and can be flexible and negotiated. I’m soon to learn something about boundaries that will surprise me.
Our homework is to choose a specific issue over which we have real differences and discuss using the reflective listening techniques we’ve learned.
The topic we pick is Ronny’s retirement from being a selfemployed osteopath. ‘This is such an important and live issue, it’s going to be not one negotiation, but a series,’ says Andrew.
Ronny is conflicted. On the one hand, he says he’s overworked and wants to throw it all in. he’s often on his feet for 12 hours a day.
On the other, he thinks he’ll never be able to afford to retire. he’s worried about work drying up now he’s 64, yet he’s busier than ever. I jump in with ideas for succession planning so he can work less without stopping a job he loves.
My tendency is to rush in as rescuer — it sounds kind, but causes me to leap over Ronny’s boundaries and make him a victim.
he doesn’t follow up on anything I suggest, so I become resentful and start to persecute him. After a bit, he objects to being a victim and gets angry with me for trying to sort his problems. So he becomes the persecutor and I am the victim.
DAY FOUR
DISCUSSING the previous night’s homework, it becomes apparent that we are in what Andrew calls the drama triangle.
Andrew tries to help us see that I can be a better listener; I can offer advice, but I can’t resolve Ronny’s problems. Ultimately, he needs to sort it out for himself. Phew! I resist the urge to say: ‘But what if he still doesn’t do anything?’
DAY FIVE
FOR our final homework, we are each asked to write a list of what we’ve learned about each other and what we hope to do differently.
We are amazed by how much has emerged in a few sessions. Ronny resolves to look less to me for solutions, to remind us both of boundaries and to discuss his concerns, while burdening me less.
I resolve to back off on the rescue plans, to not offer criticisms that belittle, to prioritise loving feelings, rather than frustrations and irritations. And to avoid suggestions that sound like orders.
having therapy on holiday? It worked for us, but if we’d gone in a state of should-I-stay-or-should-Igo crisis, I’m not sure it would have been as successful. It would have been so much harder to bear the painful conversations in an isolated holiday setting — though it would certainly bring things to a head.
What I’ve come home feeling is that every ‘happy’ relationship could do with a refresher course.
Five days in Berlin examining the nooks and crannies of ours has made us realise how much work there is for me and Ronny to do — and it’s brought us closer than I could ever have imagined possible.