For years, I felt like I was talking to a wall. I would try to start conversations about things that were important to me, but they always felt unsatisfying, as if my words were just floating into the ether. It took years to understand what was really going on, but the dynamic became crystal clear when we began seeing a family therapist, Jennifer.
With Jennifer, we talked about our youngest daughter’s autism, which often created challenges for us. The sessions with the therapist were actually productive. We could discuss things, find common ground, and plan how to handle the challenges. But our conversations at home were a different story.
Emotional disconnect
I began to realize that in our one-on-one talks, my wife Sarah was not really listening at all. She was simply “sending.” I’d try to bring up a topic, and she would immediately launch into her own monologue. Even if I managed to get my full thought out, her response rarely addressed what I had said.
I experienced this again and again. For example, one night after the kids were in bed, I wanted to discuss how to set some boundaries with our daughter, Delilah. Before I could even finish my first sentence, Sarah started her own story about a similar incident she had with Delilah. She then goes on to explain that we both have our own ways of dealing with it, and that she felt I was holding her back too much and that it would be better to give her some chances, but that we need to be on the same page. She continues for several minutes without pause.
I let her finish, and then I asked a bigger question: “How do you think this conversation is going?”
She said she couldn’t think clearly because it was late. I explained that I felt like she was just “sending” and that it wasn’t a productive dialogue. We agreed to talk again on Saturday, a time when she was less tired. But for the next half hour, she was distant and barely said a word to me. It was a classic example of what happened every time I tried to have a meaningful conversation.
The problem with therapy
The communication issues extended to a more serious problem: Sarah’s therapy sessions. She saw one therapist, Frank, for two years, and then another, Brian, for over 70 sessions. She could never tell me anything about what they talked about. When I asked, she would stumble over her words and give me nothing.
I went to two sessions with her myself. The first time, I felt like an observer. Sarah was tearful, and very little was actually said. The second time, a year later, I had a specific agenda. I was paying for these sessions, and I had no idea what the goal was. I wanted to ask Brian if there was a treatment plan or a working diagnosis that could help me understand what was happening and how I could help.
I didn’t get any clear answers, and left with the feeling that not much had happened in the past year. There seemed to be no real plan for the future.
The feeling of being trapped
I felt powerless. I was desperate to understand what was wrong, but every time I tried to get answers from Sarah, I was shut down. And she had made it clear that she didn’t want me talking to anyone else about our issues. I was in a completely isolated system, a cage of my own design with no way out.
Leaving was not an option for me at that point. It went against everything I believed in. So I was stuck, spinning my wheels, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn’t move forward, but I couldn’t stay where I was. It was a terrifying feeling of being trapped with no escape.