Why Do We Treat Our Loved Ones Worse Than Our Houseguests?

(Hint: It’s not only because we can.)

Photo by author.

(Hint: It’s not only because we can.)

John Gottman, the renowned relationship researcher, makes the houseguest comparison. He points out that we would never scold a guest for leaving a personal item such as an umbrella behind, but we don’t hesitate to snap at our partners for the same kinds of mistakes. And partners in therapy often complain that their friends and coworkers treat them better than their significant others.

How to explain this curious reversal?

The most common explanation that I hear from couples is that it’s “safe” to take out our anger on loved ones because we know they won’t leave us. This phenomenon is frequently observed by parents of young children. Toddlers or younger kids may hold in their frustrations at school or other more public places in order to conform to social expectations in those settings, but then loosen their controls at home where they know their parents will be more accepting (assuming that’s the case!). While there may be some truth to this in the case of significant others, it’s probably a more fitting interpretation for children.

I believe there are more complex factors at play.

Perhaps the strongest emotional feature of intimate relationships is that they recreate a level of interdependence that is almost impossible to experience anywhere outside of family. (Some military experiences approximate it, but are different in other ways.) This in turn has a number of crucial consequences.

In an intimate relationship we open ourselves up to our partners more than to anyone else. They, more than anyone else, get to see our flaws, shortcomings and failures. That vulnerability can be painful.

Moreover, even if our partners seem very different from those in the interpersonal environment in which we grew up, just allowing ourselves to be dependent on another person to that degree can stir up resonant feelings from childhood. Some of these are wonderful, like the feelings of being loved, nurtured and cared for.

But some of those feelings can be very difficult, like disappointment, frustration, hurt, and helplessness. Many vulnerable feelings — like helplessness — may be kept out of awareness exactly because they are so difficult and tender. And then all of these negative feelings are magnified by the unguarded position we’ve put ourselves in, and the contrast with what we were really hoping for in the way of unconditional love, acceptance, and caretaking.

Even if we have deliberately chosen a partner who is the opposite of what we were trying to escape from childhood, there are often parallels that prove agonizing and infuriating. As Terry Real puts it “We hope to find the person who will heal our childhood wounds, but instead we find the person who sticks the burning spear in our eye!”

This mix of vulnerability and intense emotions that gets triggered means that ironically, although we’re in each other’s care, we can also hurt each other more than perhaps anyone else. And once we’re hurt, we may not have the emotional resources, regulation, or experience to be able to refrain from hurting the other person back. The hurting can ping-pong back and forth, until at some point in the escalation it becomes hard to distinguish between reflex and intention, negativity bias takes over, and the pain compounds.

Combine this with increasing demands from both partners (overt or covert) that the other person change their behavior! These demands have further negative effects on both people. For the demander, there is an extra sense of injury and resentment at not getting the desired response from the partner. Any lack of response is often interpreted painfully as a lack of caring (which may or may not be actually true). And for the demandee, there is hurt at being accused and commanded to change, while the other seems to be doing nothing to reflect on or change themselves.

As if all of that weren’t enough, another serious problem crops up: repetition. We get into cycles of painful behavior with each other that repeat and repeat. What might have been a bruise here and there with some healing in-between becomes a chronic bruise that keeps getting re-injured, with insufficient repair between strikes. At this point the relationship goes into what Gottman calls “negative sentiment override,” where the overall tone of the relationship turns dark and it becomes hard if not impossible to climb back into the light.

Whoa! Didn’t expect to end up here from the title, did you?!

Before giving some pointers, I should add two other behaviors that may not be as obvious in some ways, but also can be very destructive in relationships. These are another two of Gottman’s “Four Horsemen”: defensiveness and stonewalling. Most people are familiar with the idea of defensiveness, which is basically justifying, deflecting, “yes-butting,” or attacking back — all efforts at trying to avoid or diminish the twin stings of blame and shame.

Stonewalling is a severe form of withdrawal known more commonly as shutting down, the silent treatment, etc. Both of these are usually responses to feeling blamed or criticized, and both leave the other partner feeling dismissed and abandoned. Although stonewalling — or lighter forms of withdrawal — may not seem as aggressive as criticism or contempt, the other partner can consequently feel alone and uncared for in ways that can be equally painful.

So how do we unwind all this and get to a place of treating each other better?

• Catch yourself coming from a position of superiority: that you know better, that you do it better, that your partner is wrong or there’s an “objective” reality that your partner is not facing. The vast majority of the time it’s more a function of different values and viewpoints. Even if there is a reality your partner is not facing, your playing the judge isn’t going to help matters. These attitudes are markers of contempt, which John Gottman describes as the sulfuric acid of relationships.

• If your partner isn’t responding to your requests to do things differently, realize that most of the time it’s because of emotional limitations that they have and it’s not as easy as you might think. What seems simple and easy to you is probably not so easy for them and vice versa. The more time you spend trying to compassionately understand what makes it hard for them, the more freedom they’ll have to shift (rather than fighting your judgments).

• In fact, even before thinking about what you’d like them to change, think about what they are ultimately wanting from you emotionally and how you could put energy into that. And/or acknowledge what your role in the problem is, and what you could contribute on that front.

• The antidote to defensiveness is learning about shame and taking responsibility. A first step can be to simply recognize when we are feeling defensive and say so. Saying it is better than doing it. And then if we can own some part of what our partner is trying to point out, even if painful, that can keep us engaged and further the conversation.

• The antidote to withdrawal is to hang in there and say something about what’s going on with you. As with defensiveness, if one can even say “I’m feeling like withdrawing,” or even better, “I’m feeling hurt,” or “I’m flooded,” those are better than saying nothing and going dark. If you need a break, say so, but then come back to your partner when you’re both calmer and offer to revisit the conversation.

• If you’re finding yourselves in repetitive, hurtful arguments — and especially if they’re getting worse — don’t let yourself develop tolerance for the pain. Get help. Statistically most couples come into therapy 6 years after trouble starts. My colleagues and I see way too many folks who have such ingrained patterns, so much pain, and so little hope from waiting too long that it becomes that much harder to turn around.

A stitch in time really can save nine.

(I’m a psychologist with a private practice in the Mission District, San Francisco)