Loving and Liking II: The Importance of Not Liking your Spouse

In our first blog on the loving/not liking phenomenon we discussed how important it is to distinguish liking and loving. Both of these phenomena are of central importance in having successful relationships as well as have an emotionally satisfying life. Simply stated:

  • Loving is natural and often immediate. Loving is most immediate and natural with family members.
  • Liking is the result of something shared: this can be an idea or belief, an experience, or something else that is held in common.
  • Liking comes more slowly and is most common among friends.
  • It is possible to like someone whom you may not love.
  • It is possible to love someone whom you really don’t like. This is the real challenge in relationships, particularly when the person you love but don’t necessarily like is a family member.

A few more things about this business of liking:

  • “Not liking” is not the same as disliking. You can actively dislike someone for various reasons, usually having to do with someone’s character. Disliking someone tends to be complete: you really don’t like the person. This tends to be fairly rare.
  • More often, there are elements of the person you don’t like. You may actually like the person as a whole but not certain aspects of her life. These could be minor things like her table manners, the grammatical errors she routinely makes. Or the dislike could be her political position or how she behaves in a group.
  • Both liking and loving are feelings. We discussed the centrality of feelings in the Feelings I, II, III, and IV blogs. Feelings are a murky combination of emotions, thought, and intuition. They are central to life. They are close to our souls.

One of the things we do with our clients/patients is to help them distinguish the liking and loving phenomena and how they often overlap. Understanding the similarities, differences, and overlap of liking and loving is particularly helpful in spousal and other partner relationships. We have often said to couples, “You got married for the wrong reason: you loved each other.” We make this statement somewhat tongue-in-cheek knowing that it wonderful to love one’s partner and that most people do, indeed, get married because they are in love, at least in America. Yet, getting married primarily, often singularly, because you love someone, does not necessarily make for a satisfying marriage. Very often, sometimes within days after a marriage, people begin to feel a “not like” or even the “dislike” for the person they just married. Then you have a huge dilemma. But why do people discover that they don’t like each other even though they may deeply love each other? The reason, as sages throughout time have told us: “love is blind”.

Yes, love is blind, and it is wonderful in its blindness. When you come to love someone, you are not necessarily interested in everything about this person. You don’t care what s/he does for a living, whether they like baseball, or know how to cook. You certainly don’t think about whether they have ever done the dishes. You just love the person. Wonderful. But also, blind. Love is certainly blind when you immediately love your child when s/he is born. The blindness of loving such a wonderful creation of God is nothing but beautiful, soulful, and perfectly honest. You don’t think about changing diapers for three years or being awakened at 4 AM for the fourth time in the night. You just love your child. Wonderful. But also, blind.

Love can be “blind” when we don’t attend to the whole picture, or better stated, the eventual picture. Blind love is more about a soul-filled moment of perfection. You can really love those Grizzly cubs before they grow up and threaten your life, or love puppies and kittens before they poop on your new carpet. When we love things, especially young living things, we are loving the purity of what is in the moment. We can easily love the stars on a clear night, spring flowers in a mountain meadow, or the call of a loon on a quiet lake because they are representations of some level of perfection. Loving your newborn child is a kind of “perfect love” that is pure and immediate and does not take into account for any potential danger or disappointment. Falling in love with another person can equally be “perfect love” but fail to take into account inevitable disappointments.

We all have things, experiences, and people we “just love” without rational reason. My wife and I “love” the moment we hear Pacobel’s cannon. It is a representation of our “perfect love” experienced on our wedding day. We all “just love” experiences, memories, and people in different ways and times, but all love “blindly,” as we should.  We would never want to give up this glorious experience of such random loving. But when it comes to spousal like relationships, this grand experience of loving can get us in deep trouble.

Here’s what happens. In the blindness of love we see the immediate physical, sexual or otherwise ethereal qualities of another person. And in that immediate attraction we automatically disregard the plethora of differences that might otherwise be caution signs. This blindness does not help us see the things that might be substantially different between us, some of them quite profound, some less significant. The blindness of love convinces us that nothing else matters and whatever “else” there might be, it will be as easy to dismiss as it is easy to love. Most of the things we don’t like or dislike in someone else have to do with honest differences, not flaws. And in the initial embrace of blind love, these differences seem inconsequential.

When we see couples in our office for a marital assessment we always do what we call a “friendly diagnosis”. Our friendly diagnosis identifies each individual’s positive characteristics. This includes gender, personality, cultural, spiritual and intellectual strengths. Once we have identified each person’s strengths, we frame them as “preferences.” In this framework we can then compare these preferences between the partners. What have felt like “problems” to the couple can then be seen as differences. These problems when viewed through the lens of preferences help each partner to see how despite how much they love one another, there are things that they dislike about each other. Then we can talk about the “not liking” phenomenon because we have some content to the discussion rather than a wholesale not liking or disliking.

When couples learn that they actually dislike their partners for some reason, the dislike becomes more palatable, and even useful in how they see each other, hear each other, and love each other. Furthermore, when they accept that there are aspects of their partners that they don’t like, this dislike diminishes in content and in fury, sometimes to the place where they can tease one another about something not liked without hostility or resentment. They also come to realize that some of the things they don’t like not only are foundational to their partners, but that they are good things…that they just happen to not like.

A few suggestions:

  • Note that you love your partner.
  • Note immediately that you want to say things you don’t like about him or her.
  • Identify something very specific that you don’t like. This will usually be something they say, don’t say, do, or don’t do.
  • Don’t tell your partner this thing that you don’t like. Just sit on it for a day or two.
  • Notice how you “don’t like” diminishes over time…but you still don’t like when they…
  • You might find yourself identifying things you like about your partner. Make note of them.
  • You might notice that some of the things you don’t like seem to be intrinsically related to what you do like about your partner.
  • Then it might be time to talk to your partner: about loving him/her, about liking some things, and about not liking some things.

Further Reading

Our book, The Positive Power of Sadness

Previous blogs on Feelings and Loving and Liking I: Not the Same

Forthcoming Loving and Liking on Children and The Spectrum of liking/Not liking

Loving and Liking I: Not the Same

Loving and Liking I: Not the Same

Some people are just easy to love. They attract your love for many reasons, but it isn’t necessary what they say or do: they’re just lovable. They’re like little kittens or puppies. I’m reminded of being with our grandson a couple years ago at Bear Country while the three of us were on a national parks’ journey out west. First we drove through the real bear country, like the Black Hills and Yellowstone, but we didn’t find any. Besides, you get a little worried when you’re looking for Grizzlies in some back country. Better to pay your way to Bear Country in South Dakota where you drive through this park with all kinds of dangerous bears just hanging out doing their thing. Then you come to the “nursery” where the baby cubs are romping around with one another, and you are compelled to jump over the fence and romp with them. We didn’t. But these not-yet-dangerous animals were lovable.

 Lovability

Some people are just like that: lovable. You know the kind. There’s something about these lovable people that is some kind of special gift they have. They’re not trying to be lovable; they just are. You can’t help it. For the most part babies are just lovable, and a lot of young kids are the same way. But these adults who are lovable are a special breed. We call these folks “lovers” in temperament, which we want to discuss in a later blog, but for now let’s just say that they’re just lovable.

Aside from the lovable baby bear cubs, kittens and puppies, and human babies, there is another phenomenon that occurs, mostly in families. We love our relatives. Especially our children. It just happens. How did I love my daughters the first second they were delivered? I was astounded with my feelings of love for my daughters when there were just delivered. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. And the love I had for each of them has remained solid now for 44 and 40 years and counting.

 Liability

Why do we like someone? There are many reasons but largest among them is some facet of life that is shared. This could be a shared political, religious, or philosophical belief, or it could be a shared passion for some activity like sports, music, working on cars, or hiking. We may also like someone because that person makes me laugh…or even cry. Liking is actually harder to develop or find that love because it means we have to find that piece of life that we share. People who like the Packers, for instance, might actually come from very different philosophical perspectives, but when they are watching a Packer game and drinking beer, it is only what they like that really matters. Sometimes liking simply has come from familiarity. You just know someone for a long time, say a spouse, and you like that you can predict when your friend will do something.

Liking is the essence of friendship. Furthermore, you can stop liking someone and you certainly can end a relationship with someone with whom you now have less in common. It can be problematic if you yet love the person you have ended a relationship with, especially if that person is a family member.

Loving and liking family members

We tend to love the rest of our family members, like parents, siblings, grandparents, and other extended family members. I have one favorite cousin out of the 22 I have. Just love him. Don’t know why. Perhaps because of the shared outgoing nature we have or the fun we had as kids. Just love him. Can’t help it. The same can be true with other relatives, and usually is true for those in our families of origin: parents and siblings, and perhaps an uncle, aunt, or grandparent who lived with us. Gotta love your family right? Right.

But you may not like ‘em. That’s the problem. You may love them but you may not like them. This is a huge problem, at least for many people. I talked with someone yesterday who hasn’t talked to his brother for years…but still loves him. I heard from a friend that his adult son doesn’t talk with his mother for some reason. And I talk with many people who have great problems with one or more of their family members. In summary, they don’t like someone that they love. My blog on “The Other F word” dealt a bit with the loving/not liking phenomenon. It’s a challenge. You can’t get rid of family as hard as you might try. You don’t have to. But you need to deal with your feelings…all of them.

Dealing with the loving/not liking phenomenon

Here are a couple suggestions for this love him/don’t like him dilemma:

  • Identify the people you love who in your life. Be courageous because you might be surprised how small or how large this group might be
  • Identify the people you like who are in your life. This could be family or friends. They might even be someone you see at the grocery store now and then, or a gal you see across the street.
  • Consider the people who might fall into the love her/don’t like her category. This will usually be family members.
  • Allow yourself the freedom to do the loving and the liking even they don’t seem to fit together.
  • Don’t run off and tell you drug addicted son that you love him but don’t like him, or your brother who is just a loudmouth. Just acknowledge that you don’t like someone whom you feel compelled to love, and perhaps really love.
  • Note the feeling you have with this love/don’t like thing. The feeling will be sadness. The only reason you feel sad is because you love someone and have, for some reason, lost that person, or lost trust in that person, or feel betrayed by that person, or something else. But you still love her. Let it be.

Further reading

Johnson, R. and Brock, D. (2017). The positive power of sadness. Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger

Johnson, R. (2018). Feelings I-IV blogs

Johnson, R. (2018, forthcoming). Loving and Liking II: Spouse; Loving and liking III: Children.

Awful

I felt a fair bit of sadness over the last few days. I have been confronted by sadness at four different times all within 48 hours. Sadness has been a central ingredient in my understanding how things work, how the world works, and how people work. So it wasn’t with despair or despondency that I felt sad. It was because I love. This is what sadness is about: something loved, but also something lost.

The sadness I felt yesterday actually started a day or two earlier when I wondered why many flags were at half-staff. I first wondered if it had to do with another tragic terrorist bombing, some emotionally troubled person shooting people in a school, or just some important person. Actually, it didn’t matter whether it was a massive tragedy of bombing, some loner dealing his or her loneliness, or just one well-known person who had died. The flag at half-staff represented mourning that was collective. I felt this collective sadness even without knowing who I felt sad with. But I felt sad with someone, or some people, or some country, or some tribe. I have become accustomed to feeling sad, which then immediately reminds me that I am capable of loving, which sadness should always do.

Yesterday I felt two other times of sadness, both of which seemed to blend together with the half-staff sadness. My early Sunday morning is usually pleasantly spent reading the newspaper while lying in bed. Sunday mornings are the only time I “lie in bed,” something that otherwise doesn’t ever appeal to me. Getting past the first page of the Wisconsin State Journal I read an article of a terrible truck-bus accident in Saskatchewan, Canada. Evidently, a truck t-boned a busload of youth hockey players. Having lived in Canada for four years, I know how important hockey is in the country. I was bemused when I first got to St. John’s, Newfoundland, to find the “sports page” was really a hockey page: NHL, AHL, CFL, and many youth groups. Additionally, instead of kids playing basketball on the hard court outside of school, they were playing “street hockey,” replete with hockey sticks and pucks, usually sans pads. As we know, Canada is a hockey country. Canada has “hockey Moms” much more than “soccer Moms.”

This “youth” hockey group bus that was hit was with 16-20 year olds, many of which certainly aspired to the NHL, AHL, or some other “L” in Canada, or anywhere they could play. So when I saw this hockey bus hit, my instantaneous thought was of the triple tragedy of the loss of some 15 people, hockey players, and coaches. I felt the tragedy immediately and deeply with this mix of my quazi-Canadian heritage, understanding of the hockey culture in Canada, and most of all the loss of these 15 people. I even thought about my own brief days of playing hockey in high school, and an hour or two pushing the puck around on our frozen lake up north. Mostly, I just felt sad, as did Deb when she read it a few minutes later.

Then I was off to church, quickly showering and getting my suit on (the only guy in church, by the way who wears a coat and tie). I sat with my good friends, I’ll call them Jan and Bob, who have been struggling with their son’s cancer off and on for several years. It has been a labor of love and we hear Facebook reports of their progress often daily, but never of the danger. Bob asked me how I was, and I responded with a statement that has become regular for me, “couldn’t be better.” He was glad for that, he said but then said that the same wasn’t exactly true for him. He had been in Minneapolis over the weekend and had heard that his son, having gone through tortuous chemo and radiological treatments, had now heard that the cancer had metastasized into his spine. Bob was moved, although he is not a person to openly show such “movement.” I was moved. I told him that was awful. Then I added an adverb to the adjective “awful” and said it with the power that such adverbs seem to give emotional statements. He thanked me. That was it. I put my arm around Jan and said little. Little needed to be said. I did say something like, “this just isn’t right” (meaning that children shouldn’t be dying before parents do). She nodded her head. It was all she could do without coming completely apart. I left it at that. But the sadness has stayed with me.

My work with people, as it is with most therapists, is replete with various losses, hurts, and times of sadness. The next day at work was no different, but the day ended with a session with…, let’s call him Ben. I have known Ben now for nearly two years as he is trying to migrate through his middle age years with the complications of work, children, marriage, and ultimately having a life of meaning. He told me that he had just been fired. Well, I’ve been fired two or three times in my professional career, and it is no fun. But hearing this tragic event in Ben’s life at the same time that he is trying to figure out all the rest of life, seemed…awful. I told him so. He wanted to think about it, thinker that he is, and maybe analyze the causes of the firing, analyst that he is, and do something about it, the doer that he is. But I tried my best to keep him to feeling the awful. Just the awful. Just the feeling. It was tough. But the only way through awful is to feel it, feel it, and feel it…until you finish it. Then you can think, analyze and take action. I was glad that I could be with him at this awful time, and it was to be with Bob, as it was to be “with” the hockey players and families, as it was to be with those unknown people who felt compelled to place the flag at half-staff. It felt good because I could be with these people in their times of awful without feeling awful. I loved all these people. And I am better for it.

Sadness is such a central theme in life. Never easy. Never wanted. Never sought. Always present. This is why Deb and I felt compelled to write our book. We wanted the title to be simple: Good Grief, but the publisher re-titled it The Positive Power of Sadness. Sadness is, indeed, powerful. The power is love.

Further Reading

Johnson, R. and Brock, D. (2017). The positive power of sadness: how good grief cures and prevents anxiety, depression, and anger. Los Angeles: Praeger

Previous blogs on Feelings