During a recent conversation I said that my husband has been very critical of me, and (of course) he wanted specifics. I wasn’t prepared to go into it when he asked, and I needed to reflect them before I said anything to him.
- Communication style
- Too robotic/analytical/unemotional (not appropriate for matter under discussion). This is just how I am some of the time, trying to understand and make sure that I process and remember everything that is being said to me is a lot of pressure. If I engaging in the conversation, surely that is a good thing?
- Too emotional (detracts from what is being shared). I have also been accused of being too emotional; I have cried for my husband, although not for a long time now – he said that when I cried, he felt that he had to rescue me! I stopped those kinds of reactions and they don’t seem to ever want to come back – at least not for him. It seems that I have learnt the rule too well.
- Too solutions focussed (he needs to be heard rather than fixed). My brain immediately starts scanning for patterns and solutions. This could be anything from “how do I make him feel better?”, “how do I solve this problem?”, I am afraid that sometimes this problem solving asks “how do I escape from this conversation?”. Shutting down this processing takes effort and is itself distracting. I try, instead, to let it run, but I don’t say that this is what my head is doing because I understand that my husband wants to be heard rather than solved.
- Flow of conversation
- Forgetting what has been talked about, even very shortly after the conversation. Remembering a conversation takes effort – it doesn’t happen automatically or easily. I understand that this is very upsetting for my husband
- Going silent during the conversation; he wonders whether I am still listening. Sometimes, my husband can talk without a break and I don’t know when I can or should say something. Often, I don’t know what I think or feel – or I trust what I think I want to say – is it kind? is it accurate? is it what I really think or feel? is this just going to inflame things? The longer I am silent for, the closer I get to an internal overwhelm, which means that there’s a chance of some kind of meltdown or shutdown. Both are frustrating for him.
- Not “coming back to him” when points are left open. This has been a problem forever. the issue has been that the moment the conversation was over, that I didn’t immediately review it and record my thoughts and reflections on it. The chances are, that even if I didn’t completely shutdown, that I was probably nearing the edge of my capabilities for that kind of conversation … and I know that when I am stressed that words and events might as well be written on the wind. These days I try to note down what was said and think about it, and then come back to my husband with at least some of it. However, I remain afraid of these conversations because they are difficult – and shutdowns are not nice – they feel debilitating and humiliating.
- Reactions
- I argue back or get angry when challenged. This I struggle with., What am I supposed to do if something feels unfair? Maybe just say quietly. But that requires extra thought in an already overloaded brain. However, if I don’t like my husband shouting at me then I need to be the change I want to see in the world. Somehow, I have to express my anger or defensiveness less aggressively.
- I don’t know how to disagree with things that don’t sit right – once that’s observed, I don’t know how to respond, so I go silent. Does this silence mean that I am shutting down? Possibly. What do I do with the feelings that I am not expressing? When internalised, they seem to contribute to the oncoming collapse inwards.
- Control
- Conversations have to be pre-booked to give me time to make sure that everything is as right as it can be with me. I do understand how this feels unfair. I suppose I am saying that “in the balance of probabilities, if I have time to ensure that all my prerequisites are satisfied (as far as can be), that things are more likely to go well than if I am not forewarned”. That isn’t to say that I won’t get anxious and start overthinking, but at least I can make sure that some of my physical and mental needs are quiet before we begin.
- There is a checklist of criteria before we can have a conversation – eg have I eaten/drunk/slept enough? Am I feeling scratchy or irritable for some other reason? Am I in the middle of something? And that’s the checklist! I am responsible for it … provided I have been given waring that we need to talk.
There is a lot that I can understand about my husband’s frustrations. There’s a lot that I don’t feel able to do anything about. There’s a lot here that leaves me feeling frustrated and demoralised because after more than quarter of a century of living with my husband, I still don’t have a solution for them – other than to shout “maybe I’m autistic”, which isn’t a solution but (perhaps) indicates that there are ways to manage them.
Things I could try
I’ve had a few thoughts on what might make a difference, some of which we have tried, but I feel need persistence, others are new:
Pre-Conversation Prep
- Schedule regular “check-in” times when we’re both calm to discuss difficult topics.
Active Listening
- Practice paraphrasing what the husband says to show I am still engaged and haven’t gone to sleep. For example: “I hear that you feel X because of Y.”
- Use verbal cues (“I see,” “that makes sense”) to reassure him I am still following.
Managing Emotional Responses
- Take a few deep breaths before responding if I feel anger or defensiveness.
- Maybe we could agree on a pause signal when things get heated, so both of us can reset.
Improving Conflict Dynamics
- Agree on a “no shouting” rule to prevent defensive reactions. I don’t fancy tackling this one! I’ve already mentioned it and he says that shouting is congruent with the emotion.
Memory Aids
- Keep a notebook during discussions to help recall key points afterwards.
- Review notes after each conversation and share a summary with my husband. Why does this scare me?
The conversation
So I opened a conversation and started with the first paragraph about being robotic.
It didn’t go well.
It seemed like poking an angry bear. Maybe he was confused about what I was saying. He didn’t think it was a criticism to describe me as robotic or too analytical, because its something that “I knew already”. I felt that it was critical, because otherwise why bring it up? He said it hoping for a change of some sort – so that’s what I tried to focus on.
“Given the gifts that I have, how can I change my responses?” Was the question I wanted an answer to here.
“I’m not going to give you answers.” came the rather unhelpful response.
I tried to explain that knowing better how my brain works, I can either continue to grind my mental gears and get what I have always got, or try to work with it and perhaps get different – better – results.
Things began to twist away from how I started the conversation. I felt attacked:
“How dare you say you felt lonely when I have felt lonely the whole time and you were a big part of that!” he said loudly. I was a little stunned by this; it felt as though my feels were invalid if his were somehow “bigger”. Maybe they are invalid because I did have a hand in his loneliness.
“How does it feel to not feel ‘good enough’?” He asked, rather pointedly. Not fair. This equates to being told to “shut up” to my mind. I accept there is a lot that I’ve said to him that left him feeling inadequate. There’s some stuff he’s said to me that undermined my self-confidence also.
“Why do you always feel like I am criticising you, no matter what I say you feel criticised?” This also feels like a “shut up”. I was trying to find an answer, something that works.
His volume gradually crept up and I tried to keep engaged, but it came, the mental glue that gummed my brain up.
I know that he noticed. He went on shouting. I’d gone pre-verbal and couldn’t speak and I couldn’t move.
He came over and said things. I don’t know what.
Yes I do: “Do you want to be with me?” he asked.
He said “More importantly, do I want to be with you?”. He held my hands.
I managed to say “hold me,” and he did. I think I cried.
Then I went to bed. I didn’t brush my teeth, I just hid under the duvet.
The husband came up to bed and put his arm around me. That was reassuring.
This morning, I am feeling very low and more than a little hard done by.


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