Why Marriages Fail: The Inside Story

The Alcohol Illusion: Booze Isn't the Culprit

Look, let's cut the BS. You might think kicking booze to the curb will resurrect your floundering relationship like some kind of Lazarus, but hold your horses. It helps, sure, but it's far from the cure-all you're imagining. Trust me; I've been down this rabbit hole more than I care to admit.

Rewind thirteen years, and I was neck-deep in a marriage imploding faster than a condemned building. Booze was our crutch, the gap-filler between our sober lives consisting mainly of mindless TV watching and relentless work. While the first sip felt like the ignition switch to passion and laughter, the night inevitably spiralled into a verbal demolition derby. No holds barred. No fouls. We’d rake each other over the coals, decimating boundaries in a scorching blaze of regret. Morning light brought apologies, and a momentary truce, but the war drums were beating again by evening.

Marriage counselling? Tried it. But our positions were as immovable as tectonic plates. So, even with love still flickering in the shadows, we split—end of chapter one.

Déjà Vu, Sans Alcohol

Three years down the line, I met Liza. A fresh start, fresh vows. No alcohol this time, but guess what? The arena had changed, but the gladiators were just as bloodthirsty. We'd make up, say our sorries, promise never to do it again, and then—BAM!—we're back in the Thunderdome.

The Real Culprits

And here's the kicker: the common denominators in these relationships weren't the mojitos or martinis. It was me, along with the seismic shift that came with the arrival of my children.

You see, I was hell-bent

on 'fixing' the women in my life—classic 'Outside-In' approach. I was the martyr; they were the tyrants. Yes, I’d flirted with self-help books, dabbled in podcasts, and even tried the odd coaching course. But it was like taking a butter knife to a gunfight.

The 'Inner Child' Revelation

It wasn't until I cracked open the door to my childhood traumas that the lightbulb flicked on. Dr. John Gottman, a world-renowned relationship expert, talks about how understanding each other's 'Love Maps'—the emotional part of your brain—is essential to sustaining a relationship. And for me, those maps had uncharted territories, with lands filled with childhood wounds still oozing. It was affecting how I perceived love, how I perceived conflict, and how I perceived myself in these relationships.

The Real Problem

My emotional void expanded when my kids arrived. Call it abandonment, neglect, whatever—it felt like I was cast aside, resigned to the role of an observer, not a participant. This wasn't about losing sexual intimacy; even the small gestures like hand-holding had vanished. My wives found completeness in our children, and I felt like an extra piece in a puzzle—a piece that no longer fit.

Esther Perel, another relationship guru, pointed out that the emotional quality of our adult relationships often reflects our early experiences with our caregivers. That abandonment I felt? It echoed my childhood, and that same emotional youngster was manifesting now, swinging punches at the people I loved.

The Counter-Intuitive Genius of Childlike Communication

So, here's my counter-intuitive yet brilliant advice: Don't just become Alcohol-Free-As-Fuck (AFAF) and think you're all set. Instead, the next time you're on the brink of another screaming match, consider talking to your partner like they're a kid. Yeah, you heard me right.

Dr Laura Markham, who specialises in child psychology and parenting, emphasises the importance of 'Emotion Coaching,' which helps children understand their emotions. Now, what if we apply this to our adult relationships? In times of conflict, both parties often navigate a turbulent sea of emotions like children. So meet them there. No, I don't mean talking baby talk. I mean engaging with genuine curiosity, compassion, and patience.

Realise that your partner, at that moment, is struggling, and their own 'inner child' is now in charge. Give them the space to make mistakes, offer constructive feedback, and dish out tons of encouragement, love, and support. Don't be the authoritarian parent; be the empathetic parent. Give them what you wish you had received as a child.

I would watch, often in awe, as the women in my life tackled our children's emotional roller coasters with the grace of a tightrope walker. Their voices were soft, their faces oozing empathy, their words sprinkled with an understanding that seemed saintly. Dr Sue Johnson, a leading expert in relationship therapy, refers to this as 'Emotional Responsiveness.' Entering into your partner's emotional world is key to a thriving relationship. Well, there it was—live in action—but reserved exclusively for our kids.

Yet, when I expressed my need for the same kind of attentiveness—call it emotional grounding or simply being present—I was met with a stone wall. "You're an adult; it's not my job to baby you," they'd snap back. The implication was that emotional care and understanding were my responsibility, not theirs. This jarring double standard was like trying to harmonise two dissonant chords. Something was off-key, and it gnawed at me.

Let's be clear: It is my responsibility to regulate my emotions, just as it's theirs. But here’s the thing—a relationship is a tag team, not a solo performance. Gary Chapman, famous for "The 5 Love Languages," has always advocated understanding your partner's unique emotional needs. Shouldn't that go both ways?

When you tag your partner in, it's not to exit the ring and wash your hands off any responsibility; it's to say, "I trust you to hold down the fort while I catch my breath." Because, God knows, the arena of love and relationships can often feel like an ongoing battle, where the rules are unwritten and the stakes are sky-high.

Just as they found it within themselves to meet our children at their level, couldn't they take a similar, albeit modified, approach with me? It's not about treating your partner like a child condescendingly. It's about acknowledging that deep down, beneath the years of emotional scar tissue and adult responsibilities, sits a vulnerable core that could use a hug or an understanding nod occasionally.

This doesn't absolve me of my role in our emotional dynamic; it's a plea for an equal distribution of emotional labour. Dr. Julie Gottman (John Gottman’s wife) speaks of a relationship's 'shared meaning'. Creating a culture of shared emotional responsibility is the bedrock of any enduring partnership. When it comes to raw, unfiltered emotions, the least we can do is offer the same quality of emotional attunement that we extend to our children.

So, instead of standing in opposite corners of the ring, let's meet in the middle, where the ground is more fertile for empathy, compassion, and shared emotional growth. Here's to tag-teaming our way through the emotional minefield that is love and coming out stronger on the other side.

We’re all carrying baggage; the trick is to unpack it together. And while it might feel weird to treat your spouse like a seven-year-old, it could very well save your marriage.

Be patient. Be grounded. Be love. And remember, we're all children inside, trying to navigate an adult world. Let's be the emotional anchors for each other that we desperately need.

STRIVE on, and much love.

Lee

PS: If your alcohol reliance is preventing you from creating a beautiful and harmonious relationship, then why not give STRIVE a go? We’re currently offering a FREE month to help you find your feet and to see if you jive with our vibe. Here is the link to sign up.