Question about guilt I hovered over another couple I worked with. He recently betrayed his wife. They usually worked closely with each other, but she was deeply upset and confused after learning of his transgression. Their attempts to talk about what happened stopped. #MeToo rhetoric was woven into their arguments, acting as a superego, shaping and suppressing even what they thought. She said she felt like the lesson of the movement was teaching her to stay away from him instead of forgiving. “If a woman is being wronged, especially now, go away,” she said. It was hard for her to know how she really felt about all this. Early on, he could not distinguish between regret and fear. He was afraid of getting into trouble and his guilt got the better of him. His voice was quiet while he stared at me and he was worried about how he would be seen. “There are a lot of men in this industry right now who are in positions of power and using it to have sex with people.”
They were both white, they understood their privilege, and they were sorry for it. She often vented her own frustration by harboring her thoughts of, “Oh, poor cis white woman,” thinking, “I’m floating in the air.” He was also unhappy. He spoke of reading the news that “another black or brown person has been murdered.” To be honest, I feel a little guilty sitting here. The precepts of the Black Lives Matter movement can initially trigger a paralyzing sense of guilt and shame that causes people to brace themselves and stop thinking altogether. But over time, these ideas can stimulate the inner workings of the mind, prompting us to consider the harm done to people, the question of who should be involved, and the difference between virtue signals and deeper concerns. It turns out that you can. These are hard and important lessons that carry over to intimate relationships. In this case, her husband showed a new understanding of how power is exercised at work. Was I an ally? Was it just optics? ’ These insights extended to the way he spoke about his sins. He justified his actions by saying that his wife had not given him the attention he needed. But beyond what the couple called “optics,” he’s now more thorough about what his affair really was and how it affected his wife. I asked myself to explain to He explained how he would miss her if she went on her trip. He felt left out and abandoned, a feeling deeply familiar to him from his childhood. It was difficult for him to admit his weakness, but it set off a series of honest conversations between the two. “I convinced myself that she didn’t want me,” he said. “I’m not a popular guy. I’m not a strong guy.” He said it was associated with anxiety.
This new, non-defensive way of speaking allows her to see how his guilt hits where she feels most insecure, and he sees it too, leaving no regrets between the two of them. and created forgiveness. She explained how it became easier for both of them to “see” the impact they had on the other and quickly “notice or apologize.” During one session, she laughed and said, You recognized that you took your frustrations out on me because I was an easy target. ’ He realized he had stopped glancing at how he was inflicting pain on others. “I was actually just thinking about therapy and the Black Lives Matter movement, so I’m not sure what I just said and how she reacted negatively to it. I’ve become very conscious of it, instead of me just saying ‘I’m uncomfortable, let’s move on’. need to deal with it now. ’” he continued. what did i do to make you angry ”
both husband and wife Always come back to challenge others. Disagreement can arise over philosophical issues such as what to devote one’s life to and whether it’s ethical to have a baby in the midst of the looming climate crisis. Or it may be a more immediate issue, such as whether it is acceptable to have sexual fantasies about someone you are not your partner. Or even seemingly trivial things like the correct way to put dishes in the dishwasher. Whatever the issue, differences can become a crisis point in a relationship. Questions immediately arise about who is right, who gets their way, and who has a better understanding of reality. A narcissistic vulnerability about self-worth emerges, which triggers the urge to devalue others. Partners try to resolve these impasses by trying hard to dig their own stance and persuade the other, further polarizing them.
The challenge of heterogeneity may be best understood when considering racial differences. This was certainly the case with James and Michelle. Michelle was a calm, gentle, somewhat reserved African-American social worker, and James, a police officer at the time, was a petite, twisted white man who didn’t show much emotion on his face. They had typical conflicts over things like division of labor and different parenting styles, but then the pandemic hit. Quarantined, working remotely, and homeschooling their 3-year-old son, they began arguing over COVID-19 protocols. Michelle was aware of the devastating impact COVID-19 has had on black communities and wanted to be careful. James, along with his fellow police officers and his conservative parents, thought the concerns were overblown. Debates about how race shaped James and Michelle’s experiences and ideas always end in dead ends. When Michelle tried to bring up the subject, James insisted, “I can’t see color,” and said he didn’t know what she was talking about. During our session, Michelle sounded desperate. She wanted people to understand how traumatic Covid-19 is for black people. But she was annoyed by him not being able to recognize real differences, as if everyone was of the same race. “He has this mindset of ‘I can’t see color.'” Stated. Her view of her “clearly pisses me off,” she said. James would shrug his shoulders impassively. Michelle described her frustrating experience trying to break through a wall. Her husband was consciously unaware that being white was a perspective that limited her imagination and understanding.
