Just a Tweak: Jan and Marie, Part One: Apology

Jan and Marie were wonderful people, married twenty years, two well-adjusted teenagers, they were once good friends, but now they were suddenly thinking about divorce because they were perpetually fighting and constantly feeling miserable when they were together.

Usually when I see a couple, each of them blames the other for their unhappiness and for the relationship’s problems. As they explained what brought them to me, neither of them placed blame on the other that. They described a cycle of negativity of scripted fights that had no resolution, of power struggles that made them both feel powerless.

The fact that they acknowledged their once strong friendship and that they both missed that, along with the way they refused to take a victim role and blame the other, encouraged me to believe that there was a great deal of health that was somehow inaccessible to them now. And that perhaps we could find a way to free this inherent goodwill so that it could renew their relationship.

“I need a story,” I said. “Some event that illustrates what you are talking about.”

Each of them turned to the other. They couldn’t think of a recent story. I was insistent I couldn’t work without a story.

Eventually Marie came up with a chronic fight. They told the story this way: “I come from a family of three children and very mild-mannered parents. We never saw them fight. Jan came from a Irish Catholic family. Fighting, yelling is how they live. They mean nothing by their angry loud voices. It’s just how they talk.”

“Yeah,” Jan said. “I wish I was mild-mannered and talked with a soft voice like Marie, but I don’t.”

“He apologizes, but nothing changes. And it’s not just this. He will make a mistake, apologize, but nothing changes. His ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t mean anything. I don’t want to live this way all my life, Jan screwing up, apologizing and doing it again, apologizing, and on and on. It’s hopeless.”

“She’s right,” Jan said. “That’s how it goes.”

“So, Jan, you are the screw-up in this relationship, right?”

“I guess,” Jan said squirming in his seat.

“And Marie, you are the paragon?”

“I suppose. But I’m tired of Jan never changing.”

So,” I said, “perhaps you need to have a competent apology, Jan.”

“What’s that?” Jan asked.

“It’s an apology that means something, that has at least some change built into it.”

“That would be great,” Marie said.

“Jan, are you game to try a new way of apologizing?”

“I say I’m sorry.”

“But that’s not working, is it?”

“No, I guess not. But I mean it. I am sorry.”

“Are you willing to add some things to your ‘I’m sorry’ so that your apology has some lasting effect?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“Okay,” I said. “A competent apology has five steps, each step building on the other. It is like a dance pirouette or a golf swing. The body must move in order and in rhythm. In an apology, things must take place in a certain sequence and the voice, face and body must come at the right time with the right expression. A competent apology is much more than words. Just as there is a critical moment in golf or in dance when the body’s efforts transform into strength, balance and power, there is a point in a competent apology where intention, emotion and words come together and reach inside the heart of another person and your heart touches theirs and things change. Your face, body, emotions and sincere intention are all part of your apology.”

“I’d like to apologize that way,” Jan said.

“Remember there are five steps. Each one must be completed correctly for the transition to the next step to work.”

“Okay,” Jan said. “What’s number one?”

“The first step is the tee-up step. It starts the process. It goes something like this: ‘I made a mistake. I was wrong and I’m sorry. I know this affected you, but I’m not sure how. Would you tell me how it felt when I did that?’”

“That’s the first step? I can do that” Jan said. “Okay here goes.”

“When I snap at you, raise my voice, use an angry tone, it hurts you. I do that. And I shouldn’t. I know it hurts you. Can you explain & tell me how it makes you feel?”

“Good,” I said. That’s the first step. “Now, before she answers, let me prepare you for the second step. Remember when I said that your face, body, and emotions are part of the apology? This is especially true in the second part. As Marie talks, you must position your body so that it communicates that you are facing her, taking in her words and feelings. Your face must mirror her pain and also express the shame you feel for hurting her, someone you love. This is the reason apologies don’t work. We don’t want to confront that we have hurt a person whom we love. It is hard for us to step up to that and feel the shame for what we did. And shame is an essential part of love. Love means that if we hurt someone we care about, that we will feel shame for hurting them.”

“As we listen, our face must show our shame to them. And as they talk, we must repeat their words with our version of their words, emphasizing their feelings with emotion labels, and metaphors.”

“Can you do that?”

“I don’t know, you may have to show me.”

“I’ll do that.” I said. “Please, Marie, tell Jan how you feel when he snaps at you.”

“It’s not just me. He does it with the children too and that affects me as much as if he yelled at me. I feel scared, startled. I shut down. I become frozen. I back away and try to disappear. I just don’t want to be near him. I want him to go away, or I want to run out the door, jump in the car and drive to Mexico. I know my reaction is extreme but that’s what happens to me. And he does this several times every day. I can’t believe that I married this man.” She begins to cry.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll model a step 2 response for you.”

“So, Marie, imagine I’m Jan. You said that you feel the same way when I snap at the children?” I moved my chair squarely in front of her. I leaned toward her with a sad expression on my face, then continued: “My loud voice frightens you, startles you. You freeze, feel paralyzed. You want to disappear, run away to Mexico. I’m ashamed that I hurt you, the person I love the most.”

“That felt great,” she said. “But he can’t do that.”

“Maybe he can,” I said.

“I want to try,” Jan said. He turned his body as square to her as possible sitting beside her on the couch.

“It hurts me that you feel this way about me, when I would never hurt you. You should know that.”

“See,” she said. “That’s his version of an apology. It’s about him and his feelings, not about me and how I feel. He doesn’t care about that.”

“I do care about that.”

“I believe you do, Jan,” I said. “The problem is that you have put an important thing in the wrong place. This is the apology place. In this place, excuses and justifications don’t belong. This is a mistake-is-a-mistake place. Fix it. Don’t point the finger back at the person you are apologizing to. That creates that circle you talked about at the beginning of the session, that downward spiral where nothing changes except that everybody becomes frightened, hurt and disgusted with each other and the relationship.

“The apology place is only about the feelings of the person to whom you are apologizing. Not the apologizer. Jan, your feelings don’t belong here.”

“That is not to say that your feelings have no place. They do. But that is later, when it is your turn to share your feelings. Perhaps you deserve an apology as well. I expect that you do. In relationships, usually nobody is innocent. Everybody has a part in the mess.”

“But right now, it is not your turn. In the apology/forgiveness/reconciliation process, we have to take turns, keep our feelings in the right lane until it’s time to change drivers. So, let’s get back to the second step. Can you remember what Marie said?”

“Yes.” Jan said.

“And can you remember my instructions for the second step?”

“Yes, I need to open my body, my face and my heart and take in Marie’s pain as if it were mine and feel the shame that someone feels when they hurt the person they love. That last part is the hard part. That’s what knocked me into my excuses a moment ago. I think I was doing pretty well until I began to feel that shame and then I jumped onto my defensive track. Sorry, Marie. Can I try again?”

“Yes, okay.” Marie responded, “But when a conversation like this goes south as it just did, that adds more pain and hopelessness on top of what was already there. I’m continuing talking to you only because Dr. McMillan is here. But yes, okay, go on.”

“Did I get it right that my sudden fits of temper scare you, paralyze you, make you want to disappear?” Jan asked.

“Yes, you said that before and I thought you understood how that hurts me. Yes, you did seem to get that.” Marie said.

Jan looked down and then he looked back up into Marie’s face with tears in his eyes and said “Marie, I don’t want to hurt you. And I did. I do. It’s hard for me to admit that I hurt you when I love you like I do and the last thing I want to be true is that I cause you pain, but I did and I do I’m so sorry.”

“That’s the second step,” I said. I felt the pathos coming from Jan and Marie was tearing up as she looked at Jan’s anguish.

“And the horrible thing about this, Dr. McMillan is that I don’t think I can control my irritability. It just snaps out of me.”

“Jan, I think you can learn to do better with sincere, painful apologies like these. No one changes for the benefit of another. We all change for our benefit. Do you want to feel like this again?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Will you be ashamed when you snap at Marie and the children the next time?”

“Yes, now I will, after feeling what I’m feeling Marie’s fear, hurt and disappointment. I can’t forget this now. I won’t deny it anymore.”

“Well then, you are on the path to change,” I said. “We’re ready for the third step. Are you ready Marie?”

“Yes,” she said. “I never expected that from Jan. That feels like a miracle.”

“The third step is to tell Marie what you learned from listening to her. You could say, ‘Oh, I’ve heard this song before. It’s nothing new.’ And if that’s true, then step two will be of no use and the apology will fail. There must be a before and after line. Before really listening to and empathizing with Marie and after. Something new to your understanding of yourself and Marie must be present. So the third step is for you to learn something from Marie today and tell her what that is. What is new and different now after you listened to her, really listened.”

"Listening like you made me do, this second step is hard. But I did learn a lot. Whether I like it or not, whether Marie should have thicker skin or not, my loud shrill voice hurts her, and it triggers a painful paralysis in her. To protect herself, she withdraws from me, and she freezes. And I feel that rejection. But my feelings aren’t a part of an apology, if I want something to change between us, I’ve got to change myself. I can’t give her thicker skin. That’s what I learned.”

“That’s step three,” I said.

“I never thought this was possible,” Marie said.

“We’re not finished,” I said. “We have two more steps.”

“Step four is to offer Marie a new contract for how you promise to behave in the future.”

“That’s where I thought this was going,” Jan said. “And I’m stuck here. Marie’s right, I was raised in a fighting, yelling family. It’s an engrained habit. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You are not alone in developing a new contract. Do you sincerely want to give Marie some protection from this snapping impulse of yours?”

“Of course, I don’t want to hurt her like that ever again. But she’s correct. I’m not sure I can help it.”

“Will you respond to Marie if she asks you to lower your voice?”

“Sure.” Jan answered.

“Really,” Marie said. “I’ve tried this before. I’ve asked you not to speak to me in that voice and it just made you more angry.”

“Yes it did, but that was then. This is now after I’ve understood that you can’t ignore my temper any more than I can control my instant angry impulses. We’ve got to do something else. I need help here.”

“If Marie gave you a signal, like, if she raised her hand, would you use that as a reminder of your promise to lower your tone and speak civilly?”

“Yes, that would help a lot.”

“That could be the new contract that you may offer to her. That would be step four. That if she raises her hand, you will appreciate her cue and you will lower your voice and speak more respectfully.”

“That would be great,” Marie said. “What is step five?”

“Step five is an amends. It is a symbolic gesture. You can’t change the past, but you can offer Marie a symbol of your sincere intention to do better, a symbol that reminds you both of this new promise. This amends requires some creative thought. It should not be offered now, but let this idea of what would be a good symbol for this percolate in your mind, and later in a ceremonial moment, like a marriage proposal, you, Jan offer her your amends as a symbol of your sincerity and your strong intention to keep this promise.”

“I will give this some thought,” Jan said. “I think I can do this.”

Just a Tweak: Jan and Marie, Part Two: Innocence

"Jan," I said, "in this relationship, are you the screw-up to Marie’s paragon?"

They both looked a bit confused by this direct accusatory question, but since my facilitation and intention of this step so far had gone so well, I think they gave me some slack with my rudeness.

"Yes, I guess," Jan said.

“So, Marie are you tired of mothering an impulsive Jan who, like an adolescent, says I’m sorry, but he keeps on screwing up?"

"Yes, I am," she said empathetically. "It’s lonely being the only adult in the family."

"I wonder if you would let me help you down from your paragon pedestal?"

"I suppose," she said.

"Take this last apology from Jan. You deserved that apology. But what about Jan’s feelings and his wish that his wife could know that she is loved; that he would never hurt her and just let him have his tantrums knowing that he's just venting, letting off steam. Is your allowing yourself to be hurt by Jan, a man who means you no harm, who dearly loves you—is this not an 'insult to Jan'?"

"I suppose," she said.

"I feel it as an insult," Jan said. "I’ve been her loyal devoted husband, coparent, provider, curmudgeon husband for over twenty years. You would think she would know by now that I would never hurt her. But she doesn’t and I must grab myself by the shoulders and rein myself in my irascible nature. I’m going to try, but that’s going to take time. I wish she would just accept that irascible part of me and find a way to love me. It does hurt that she can’t.”

"And I can understand that" I said. "Can you, Marie?"

"Yes, I can," she said. "I knew what he and his family were like when I married him. I thought that I could change him. And I haven’t been able to. I guess I was wrong to expect that."

"Now you just came down from your pedestal, Marie. How does that feel?"

"It feels great to me," Jan said. "I never thought I would hear that."

“So Marie, how do you feel? You are part of this mess too. This is where intimacy exists. It doesn’t exist in being good or perfect. Intimacy only happens among sinners. So how does it feel to lose your innocence?”

"I’m surprised," she said. " I feel lighter, as if I don’t have to carry the world on my shoulders alone. I don’t have to always know the right thing by myself. It makes me respect Jan more. We’re both silly, aren’t we? He’s silly to have five-year-old temper tantrums and I’m silly for taking them seriously."

"It gives you power in the relationship to be Jan’s innocent victim. And maybe sometimes you like this paragon power."

"I suppose I have enjoyed this role of standing in judgment, but it gets old and lonely."

“And Jan your refusal to grow up and became an adult who can regulate his emotions has given away your power to Marie. Your refusal to change and respond to a reasonable request to behave civilly only reinforced Marie’s paragon role.”

“This paragon/screw-up dance became your norm. Neither of you knew how to stop this music.”

“And all you had to do, Jan, was grow up. And all you had to do, Marie, was join in the mess and see that you are sometimes a screw-up too. Innocence and righteousness can sometimes become evil.”

Just a Tweak: Jan and Marie, Part Three: Forgiveness

Jan and Marie had successfully completed the five-step apology from Jan to Marie. This had been a great success. Then they moved into undoing the paragon screw-up cycle in which Jan began to face his responsibility to grow up and contain his angry impulses, and Marie began to slide down from her pedestal and join Jan in life's mess without her righteous, judgmental, innocent shield.

The next part of the session was devoted to forgiveness. This would be Marie’s work. I explained that forgiveness is a six-step process that is a slower process than the apology process.

“Marie, are you up for forgiving Jan?”

“Yes, that was a wonderful apology. I’ve never seen him express himself in such a kind way before, taking my words seriously like he did. I want this to work, and I want to do my part.”

An apology is emotionally draining and difficult, but an apology process does not take as much time. Forgiveness takes longer and, in its way, is just as hard. The first step is to ask yourself whether you have been given a competent apology—an apology that means what it said. A competent apology must be sincere and contrite. Shame must be expressed and it must be genuine.

“Do you have a competent apology?” I asked Marie.

“Yes,” she said.

“Well, that’s step one completed. But never forgive someone without a competent apology. If their apology is not sincere and contrite, you are just setting yourself up for more abuse.”

“There is also such a thing as what I call “spiritual forgiveness.” This is something you do for yourself, not for the other person. Its purpose is to cleanse yourself of bitterness and resentment. It is not meant to reconcile you with another person.”

In spiritual forgiveness, you bless the person, wish them well, put them in God’s hands, let go, and have nothing else to do with them.

“So do you understand the importance of a competent apology, Marie?”

“Yes, I’m ready for step two.”

“Step two is to look at Jan and say ‘I forgive you.’”

Marie did that.

“Step three may be the most difficult part of forgiveness. It is to put the past in the past and never, never bring it up again. This story is an old complaint. It does not belong in your life anymore.”

That would be great,” Jan said. “I hate it when she attacks me with stories about the past. They just pile up and I feel like I will never be forgiven.

“Yes, that happens," I said. "Can you do this Marie, put the past in the past?"

"I’m not sure. What if he continues his tantrums?"

"You have his promise," I said. "The past is no longer your weapon. Your new weapon is the contract and his promise. You can remind him of that."

"Yes, with his promise in place, I can put the past behind us."

"Okay, we’re ready for step four. Help Jan think about an amends, something that would let you know his promise is sincere."

"I will think about that," she said.

"Okay, now for step five: tell Jan you are in, that you’re committed to a future with him."

"I’ve always loved you. I want nothing more than to have this, our committed relationship, in my life."

"Now, the sixth step, and this takes time. Live into the future as Jan’s partner letting each day thaw your once frozen self and allow you to rebuild your complete trust in Jan again. And when you feel safe again, tell Jan that you are with him with no nagging reservations."

“Yes, that will take time, but I hope someday soon I can do that.”

These three parts were all one session. Jan and Marie seemed lighter and more relaxed when they left. I told them that what we did together today put the train on the right track. And it worked because they were friends, and they valued their friendship more than their egos.

All they needed was this little tweak.