Getting the Love You Want, 20th An. Ed. (17 page)
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Authors: Ph.D Harville Hendrix
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AS HELPFUL AS the Imago Dialogue may be, people have an almost universal reaction to it: “Do we really have to go through all those steps in order to communicate something meaningful?” The answer to this specific question is no. If all you’re seeking is effective communication, then mirroring alone may be sufficient. But if you want to move beyond communication to communion, then you need to include all three steps. That said, I don’t want to diminish how time-consuming and artificial the Imago Dialogue can seem. There are times when you will rebel at the structure and want to revert to old habits. I am reminded of a seventeen-year-old son of a friend of mine who is a superb baseball player. He is so good, in fact, that he’s been singled out by a ball club for special instruction even before leaving high school. To the boy’s dismay, however, his new coach wants him to change virtually everything about the way that he pitches and hits the ball. He’s been given a series of exercises to help him build up certain muscles and stretch out others, and he is required to hit a hundred balls a day using an alien-feeling stance and grip. At times, he has been close to tears because he feels as though he’s had to abandon everything he knows about baseball.
So it is with the Imago Dialogue. It requires you to abandon some deeply ingrained habits and adopt a formulaic way of relating. Much of the time, it’s going to feel forced. But as you begin to experience some of its benefits, you will become less resistant. Eventually—and it may take years—you will have transformed your relationship to the point that you will be able to abandon the exercise altogether. When that day arrives, you will be communing, not just conversing.
ONCE COUPLES HAVE been taught the Imago Dialogue, I introduce them to an information gathering tool called “the Imago Workup.” This is a guided imagery technique that helps each partner become better acquainted with their own childhood wounds. When the exercise is completed, I have them share their observations, using the Imago Dialogue. This is an effective way for couples to begin to see each other as they really are, as wounded beings on a quest for spiritual wholeness.
Before the exercise begins, I ask the couples to close their eyes and relax. I often put on some soothing music to help them shut out distractions. When they are sufficiently relaxed, I ask them to try to remember their childhood home, the earliest one they can recall. When the vision begins to take shape, I tell them to see themselves as very young children wandering through the house searching for their caretakers. The first person they meet is their mother, or whichever female caretaker was most influential in their early years. I tell them that they are suddenly endowed with magical powers and can see these women’s positive and negative character traits with crystal clarity. They are to note these characteristics and then imagine themselves telling their mothers what they always wanted from them and never got.
In a similar manner, I have them encounter their fathers, or primary male caretakers, and then any other people who had a profound influence on them in their formative years. When they have gathered all the information they can about these key people, I slowly bring them back to reality and have them open their eyes and write the information down on a piece of paper.
I am often surprised by how much information people can gain from this simple exercise. For example, a young man did the exercise and realized for the first time how lonely and isolated he felt as a child. He had blocked out this crucial piece of
information because it hadn’t made any sense to him. How could he feel lonely in a family with four children, a minister for a father, and a devoted homemaker for a mother? In his fantasy, however, he had searched and searched around the house for his father, never to find him. When he encountered his mother, his spontaneous question to her was “Why are you always so busy? Can’t you see that I need you?” Having these insights helped him understand his chronic depression. “Until this moment,” he said, “my sadness has always been a mystery to me.”
information because it hadn’t made any sense to him. How could he feel lonely in a family with four children, a minister for a father, and a devoted homemaker for a mother? In his fantasy, however, he had searched and searched around the house for his father, never to find him. When he encountered his mother, his spontaneous question to her was “Why are you always so busy? Can’t you see that I need you?” Having these insights helped him understand his chronic depression. “Until this moment,” he said, “my sadness has always been a mystery to me.”
Once people have completed the guided-imagery exercise, they have the information they need to construct their imagos, the inner images of the opposite sex that guided them in mate selection. All they need to do is group together the positive and negative traits of all the key people from their childhood, highlighting the traits that affected them the most. These are the traits that they were looking for in a mate.
When this work is completed, I ask couples to share what they have learned. I ask them to listen to each other with full attention, making no effort to interpret each other’s remarks, enlarge upon them, compare them with their own, or analyze them. The only allowable comments are mirroring comments that indicate the degree of their understanding. By doing this exercise, people begin to see behind their partners’ neurotic, puzzling, or compulsive behavior to the wounds they are trying to heal. This creates a more compassionate, supportive emotional climate.
IN THE YEARS since the original version of this book was written, a number of other Imago workshop presenters have contributed to the workshop and to Imago therapy. Maya Kollman, a master trainer, suggested a new exercise called the
Parent-Child Dialogue. In this exercise, which in our workshops occurs after the exercise called the “Imago Work-up,” couples deepen their awareness of their childhood wounds and increase their empathy for each other. Sitting face to face, one partner takes on the role of the caretaker and the other partner imagines him or herself as a small child and talks to the caretaker from a child’s point of view. The person playing the caretaker asks a series of questions, beginning with: “Tell me what it was like living with me?” The “child” responds. After mirroring the “child” with empathy, the caregiver then asks: “What was the worst thing for you about all that?” Once again, the “child” talks about what was most difficult. Mirroring the “child’s” response with warmth and empathy, the caregiver now asks, “What do you need from me that would heal all that?” Typically, the “child” says something like: “I need you to be there for me and listen when I talk.” The partner who is playing the caregiver role closes the exercise by saying: “I want you to have all of that, whenever you need it. Thanks for telling me about your pain and what you need from me.” Then they switch roles and repeat the exercise.
Parent-Child Dialogue. In this exercise, which in our workshops occurs after the exercise called the “Imago Work-up,” couples deepen their awareness of their childhood wounds and increase their empathy for each other. Sitting face to face, one partner takes on the role of the caretaker and the other partner imagines him or herself as a small child and talks to the caretaker from a child’s point of view. The person playing the caretaker asks a series of questions, beginning with: “Tell me what it was like living with me?” The “child” responds. After mirroring the “child” with empathy, the caregiver then asks: “What was the worst thing for you about all that?” Once again, the “child” talks about what was most difficult. Mirroring the “child’s” response with warmth and empathy, the caregiver now asks, “What do you need from me that would heal all that?” Typically, the “child” says something like: “I need you to be there for me and listen when I talk.” The partner who is playing the caregiver role closes the exercise by saying: “I want you to have all of that, whenever you need it. Thanks for telling me about your pain and what you need from me.” Then they switch roles and repeat the exercise.
This exercise is powerful for both partners. The partner playing the role of the child recalls his or her childhood wounds more deeply than in other exercises. The partner in the caregiving role gains a greater understanding of the other partner’s early vulnerability. The most exciting thing about this particular exercise is that the empathic response of the listening partner is so different from the type of wounding response one might have gotten from one’s actual caretaker, that it begins to heal the partner’s wound. If the real-life caregiver had responded this way in the past, the emotional injury would not have occurred in the first place.
What fascinates me most about the Parent-Child Dialogue is that when the partner who has regressed into childhood memories talks about his or her pain from the past, the listening partner often recognizes that he or she has frustrated the
speaking partner in similar ways, unwittingly reopening childhood wounds. However, the structure of the exercise prevents any reaction. Then, in the closing statement, when the regressed child says what he or she needs from the parent, the listening partner gains new insight into what needs to be done to help the other person heal. The Parent-Child Dialogue is an indirect way of learning how to be each other’s healers.
speaking partner in similar ways, unwittingly reopening childhood wounds. However, the structure of the exercise prevents any reaction. Then, in the closing statement, when the regressed child says what he or she needs from the parent, the listening partner gains new insight into what needs to be done to help the other person heal. The Parent-Child Dialogue is an indirect way of learning how to be each other’s healers.
DEFINING YOUR CURRICULUM
One of the deep secrets of life is that all that is really worth doing is what we do for others.
—LEWIS CARROLL
SO FAR IN this book, I’ve described the initial steps in the creation of a conscious partnership. I’ve talked about making a commitment to narrow your exits so that more of your energy is available for your relationship. I’ve talked about increasing the pleasurable interactions between the two of you to set the stage for greater intimacy. And I’ve discussed several ways to increase your knowledge of yourself and your partner. Now is the time to talk about the healing of deeper childhood wounds. In this chapter I will describe a way you can turn your chronic frustrations about your partner into avenues for growth. In the next chapter I will talk about ways to remove the underlying cause of most explosive conflicts.
When a couple has spent several weeks practicing the Reromanticizing exercise described in chapter 8, they experience a revival of positive feelings, and they begin to bond with
each other much the way they did during the early stages of romantic love. Just as they grow accustomed to this more intimate, nurturing environment, however, a disheartening event occurs: conflicts begin to emerge, the very ones that brought them into therapy in the first place. Once again they are plagued with the same troublesome issues, the same basic incompatibilities. It seems as though the Reromanticizing exercise has resurrected romantic love only to let it disintegrate once again into a power struggle.
each other much the way they did during the early stages of romantic love. Just as they grow accustomed to this more intimate, nurturing environment, however, a disheartening event occurs: conflicts begin to emerge, the very ones that brought them into therapy in the first place. Once again they are plagued with the same troublesome issues, the same basic incompatibilities. It seems as though the Reromanticizing exercise has resurrected romantic love only to let it disintegrate once again into a power struggle.
The reason the good feelings don’t last is that, through increased pleasurable interactions, the two individuals have unconsciously identified each other once again as the “one who has it all,” the ideal mate who is magically going to restore their wholeness. After the anger and withdrawal of the power struggle, they are once again turning to each other for salvation. And once again they make the unpleasant discovery that neither of them has the necessary skills or the motivation to meet the other’s deeper needs. In fact, on their own, many people make the same sobering discovery I made in my first marriage: what they want most from their partners, their partners are least able to give.
What can be done to resolve this central dilemma? The question bedeviled me in my early years as a marital therapist. Given these two facts—(I) that we enter our love relationships bearing emotional scars from childhood, and (2) that we unwittingly choose mates who resemble our caretakers, the very people who contributed to our wounding in the first place—it seems that intimate love relationsihps are destined to repeat, not repair, our early misfortunes.
Years ago when I lectured to groups, this pessimistic view came through loud and clear. During one talk I was explaining the self-defeating nature of mate selection, and a woman raised her hand to say, “Dr. Hendrix, maybe the way to avoid reinjuring old wounds is to marry people you
don’t
feel attracted to. That way you won’t wind up with people who have the same
faults as your parents.” Everyone laughed, but at the time I could offer no better solution. Relationships determined by signs of the zodiac, go-betweens, or computerized dating services appeared to have a better chance of succeeding than relationships based on an unconscious selection process. Our tendency to select partners who share the positive and negative traits of our caretakers seemed to doom conventional love relationships from the start. My only advice to couples was to become more aware of their hidden reasons for marrying each other and to embrace the cold, hard facts of reality. Awareness, insight, understanding, and acceptance—that was the only solace I had to offer.
don’t
feel attracted to. That way you won’t wind up with people who have the same
faults as your parents.” Everyone laughed, but at the time I could offer no better solution. Relationships determined by signs of the zodiac, go-betweens, or computerized dating services appeared to have a better chance of succeeding than relationships based on an unconscious selection process. Our tendency to select partners who share the positive and negative traits of our caretakers seemed to doom conventional love relationships from the start. My only advice to couples was to become more aware of their hidden reasons for marrying each other and to embrace the cold, hard facts of reality. Awareness, insight, understanding, and acceptance—that was the only solace I had to offer.
At the time I was getting the same counsel from my own therapist. “You have to accept the fact that your mother didn’t have any energy for you, Harville,” he would tell me. “And your wife can’t give you what you want, either. She can’t make up for those early years. You just have to let go of those longings.” In other words, “You didn’t get it then, and you’re not going to get it now. Grow up and get on with life.” I tried to accept what he was telling me, but I was aware that in the core of my being I was unwilling to let go of my unfinished business. A part of me felt that I had an inalienable right to a secure and loving upbringing. As I scrutinized my clients, I could see that they were clinging just as tenaciously to their needs. They might repress them; they might deny them; they might project them onto others. But they couldn’t let go of their childhood needs once and for all. There had to be a different and better way, so I continued looking.
EVENTUALLY I SOUGHT out a different therapist, one with a more optimistic view about the possibility of resolving
childhood needs. He believed that it was possible for people to make up for what they didn’t get in childhood through self-love. One of his techniques to help me overcome my craving for nurturing was to have me imagine the scene in the kitchen with my mother that I talked about earlier. He would guide me through a deep relaxation exercise, then say to me, “Harville, imagine yourself as a little baby wanting your mother’s attention. She is standing at the stove with her back to you. Imagine how you want to be hugged. Call out to her. See her come over to you and pick you up with a big smile on her face. She is now holding you close. Put your arms across your chest. See that little boy! He’s right there in front of you and wants to be hugged. Hold him and hug him and fill him with love. Now pull the little boy into your chest. Pull that happy little boy inside of you.”
childhood needs. He believed that it was possible for people to make up for what they didn’t get in childhood through self-love. One of his techniques to help me overcome my craving for nurturing was to have me imagine the scene in the kitchen with my mother that I talked about earlier. He would guide me through a deep relaxation exercise, then say to me, “Harville, imagine yourself as a little baby wanting your mother’s attention. She is standing at the stove with her back to you. Imagine how you want to be hugged. Call out to her. See her come over to you and pick you up with a big smile on her face. She is now holding you close. Put your arms across your chest. See that little boy! He’s right there in front of you and wants to be hugged. Hold him and hug him and fill him with love. Now pull the little boy into your chest. Pull that happy little boy inside of you.”
It was his belief that, if I succeeded in creating a vivid picture of myself being loved by my mother, I would gradually fill up my need for maternal love. His approach seemed to work for a while; after each session I would feel less alone, more loved. But the feeling gradually disappeared, and I would once again be filled with emptiness.
The reason this approach doesn’t work is that it is sabotaged by the old brain. When we were infants, unable to meet our physical and emotional needs, pain and pleasure came magically from the outside world. When the bottle or the breast appeared, our hunger was satisfied. When we were cuddled, we felt soothed. When we were left alone in our cribs to cry, we felt angry and afraid. As we grew older, our old brain remained frozen in this passive worldview: good feelings and bad feelings were created by the actions of other people; we couldn’t take care of ourselves; others had to do it for us. The part of me that hurt couldn’t accept love from within myself because I had no way to receive self-love. Nor does anyone else. Salvation is not an “inside” job; it is the outcome of being nourished by others. But at that time, I did not know this fundamental truth.
I GRADUALLY RESIGNED myself to the fact that healing love has to come from outside oneself. But did it have to come from an intimate partner? Couldn’t it come from a close friend? At the time when I was musing over this possibility, I was leading several counseling groups and had an opportunity to observe the healing potential of friendships. Close bonds often develop between members of therapy groups, and I encouraged this love and support. In a typical session I might pair Mary, who grew up with a neurotic, unaffectionate mother, with Susan, a strong, earth-mother figure. I asked Susan to hold Mary on her lap and stroke her and let her cry. Mary would feel soothed by the exercise, but she wouldn’t be healed. “I enjoyed the hugging,” she said, “but Susan’s not the right person. It’s not Susan I need hugs from. It’s someone else.”
After numerous experiments like this, I concluded that the love we are seeking has to come not just from another person within the context of a safe, intimate relationship, but from an
imago match
—someone so similar to our parents that our unconscious mind has them fused. This appears to be the only way to erase the pains of childhood. We may enjoy the hugs and attentions of other people, but the effects are transitory. It’s like the difference between sugar and Nutrasweet. Our taste buds may be deceived by the taste of artificial sweeteners, but our bodies derive no nourishment from them. In just such a way, we hunger for love from our original caretakers
or from people who are so similar to them that on an unconscious level we have them merged.
imago match
—someone so similar to our parents that our unconscious mind has them fused. This appears to be the only way to erase the pains of childhood. We may enjoy the hugs and attentions of other people, but the effects are transitory. It’s like the difference between sugar and Nutrasweet. Our taste buds may be deceived by the taste of artificial sweeteners, but our bodies derive no nourishment from them. In just such a way, we hunger for love from our original caretakers
or from people who are so similar to them that on an unconscious level we have them merged.
But this brought me back full circle to the original dilemma:
How can our partners heal us if they have some of the same negative traits as our caretakers?
Aren’t they the least likely candidates to soothe our emotional injuries? If the daughter of a
distant, self-absorbed father unconsciously selects a workaholic for a husband, how can her relationship satisfy her need for closeness and intimacy? If the son of a depressed, sexually repressed mother chooses to marry a depressed, frigid wife, how can he recapture his sensuality and joy? If a girl whose father died when she was young moves in with a man who refuses to marry her, how can she feel loved and secure?
How can our partners heal us if they have some of the same negative traits as our caretakers?
Aren’t they the least likely candidates to soothe our emotional injuries? If the daughter of a
distant, self-absorbed father unconsciously selects a workaholic for a husband, how can her relationship satisfy her need for closeness and intimacy? If the son of a depressed, sexually repressed mother chooses to marry a depressed, frigid wife, how can he recapture his sensuality and joy? If a girl whose father died when she was young moves in with a man who refuses to marry her, how can she feel loved and secure?
An answer began to take shape in my mind. It was the only logical conclusion. If people were going to be healed, I conjectured,
their partners would have to change.
The workaholic husband would have to willingly redirect some of his energy back to his wife. The depressed, frigid wife would have to recover her energy and sensuality. The reluctant lover would have to lower his barriers to intimacy. Then and only then would they be able to give their partners the consistent nurturing they had been looking for all their lives.
their partners would have to change.
The workaholic husband would have to willingly redirect some of his energy back to his wife. The depressed, frigid wife would have to recover her energy and sensuality. The reluctant lover would have to lower his barriers to intimacy. Then and only then would they be able to give their partners the consistent nurturing they had been looking for all their lives.
It was at this point that I began to see the unconscious selection process in a new light: while it was often true that what one partner needed the most was what the other partner was least able to give, it also happened to be the precise area where that partner needed to grow! For example, if Mary grew up with caretakers who were sparing in their physical affection, she most likely has chosen a husband, George, who is uncomfortable with bodily contact; the unmet childhood need in Mary is invariably matched by George’s inability to meet that need. But if George were to overcome his resistance to being affectionate in an effort to satisfy Mary’s needs, not only would Mary get the physical reassurance she craved, but George would slowly regain contact with his own sensuality.
In other words, in his efforts to heal his partner he would be recovering an essential part of himself!
The unconscious selection process has brought together two people who can either hurt each other or heal each other, depending upon their willingness to grow and change.
In other words, in his efforts to heal his partner he would be recovering an essential part of himself!
The unconscious selection process has brought together two people who can either hurt each other or heal each other, depending upon their willingness to grow and change.
I BEGAN TO focus my attention on turning the healing potential of love relationships into a workable reality. The unanswered question was: how could people be encouraged to overcome their limitations so they could meet their partners’ needs? Wouldn’t most people be reluctant to change for their partners’ sake alone? Wouldn’t they want something for themselves? Of course they would! What could be more rewarding, I thought, than for them to be able to get back parts of themselves that they had repressed in childhood? I decided that this would become the “bait” that would encourage people to become a healing resource for their partners.
I began to develop an exercise called “The Behavior Change Request Dialogue” that would help make this happen. It had some of the same features as the Reromanticizing exercise. One partner would be asked to come up with a list of requests, which the other partner would be free to honor or not. In this exercise, however, the requests would be for changes in behavior, not for simple, pleasurable interactions; in fact, virtually every one of the requests would zero in on a point of contention. For instance, people would be asking their partners to become more assertive or more accepting or less manipulative. In essence, they would be asking them to overcome their most prominent negative traits.
As in the Reromanticizing exercise, these general requests would have to be converted into specific, measurable, time-limited activities. Otherwise the partner wouldn’t have enough information to be able to change, and there would be too much room for misinterpretation and evasive maneuvers. Also, like the Reromanticizing exercise, the Behavior Change Request Dialogue would have to rely on the principle of the “gift,” not the contract. Otherwise the unconscious mind would reject the change in behaviors. This was very important. If one person
made a small change and then waited for the partner to match those efforts—“I’ll work on becoming less domineering if you will work on becoming more nurturing”—the whole process would quickly degenerate into a power struggle. The old animosities would flare up, and there would be no possibility of healing.
made a small change and then waited for the partner to match those efforts—“I’ll work on becoming less domineering if you will work on becoming more nurturing”—the whole process would quickly degenerate into a power struggle. The old animosities would flare up, and there would be no possibility of healing.
People would have to learn how to overcome their limitations and develop their capacity to love, not because they expected love in return but simply because their partners deserved to be loved. The unconscious mind accepts only unconditional gifts. It is not interested in “deals.”
With the general framework of the new exercise in place, I began to fill in the details. How would people determine exactly what behaviors to request of their partners? Two individuals may be quick to complain and criticize each other, but they are rarely able to state in positive, specific terms exactly what they need from each other. How could they come up with this information when it was not readily available to their consciousness? Wouldn’t it take months or even years of intensive therapy?
There was an easier solution, I realized, and that was for them to examine their criticisms of their partners. As I explained in the previous chapter, couples can get an accurate picture of what they did not get in childhood by analyzing their chronic complaints about their partners. The details aren’t there—who did what when—but the raw material is sitting right on the surface, ready to be mined. The months or years that the couple have spent together have worn away their softer, more superficial annoyances and exposed the stony outcrop of their fundamental needs. “You never … !” “You always … !” “When are you ever going to … !” At the heart of these accusations is a disguised plea for the very things they didn’t get in childhood—affection, affirmation, protection, independence, attachment. To come up with the list of requests for this exercise, therefore, the couples would simply need to isolate the desires hidden in their chronic frustrations. They needed to let go of
the frustration and go straight to the wish embedded within. Then they could convert these general desires into specific behaviors that would help satisfy their needs. Other Imago therapists have labeled these “SMART” requests—small, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-limited. This list of positive, specific requests would become the ongoing curriculum of the couple’s relationship.
the frustration and go straight to the wish embedded within. Then they could convert these general desires into specific behaviors that would help satisfy their needs. Other Imago therapists have labeled these “SMART” requests—small, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-limited. This list of positive, specific requests would become the ongoing curriculum of the couple’s relationship.
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