What happens when we lose our voice in a marriage

I spent most of my adult life in a marriage where I wasn't heard.

 

Instead:

• I was talked over
• I was interrupted
• I was told "that's not true."
• I watched my partner yawn most times when I tried to express myself
• I was criticized in public…

 

The list goes on. 

 

My abused spouse support group talked a lot about not having a voice…any voice.  And I've read a lot about the subject.

 

I contributed to this problem by not having a technique to ask for what I needed.  I've subsequently read books like Say What You Mean, so my skills around difficult conversations (that's all I had for 28 years) have improved recently.  Too late to help me out of a hostile environment.

 

My support group was all women, except for me.  I can see that one primary response to not being allowed to express yourself is common across the genders (presumably the non-binary ones too):  we tend to turn the silencing on ourselves in the form of self criticism.  The Inner Critic, to refer to Internal Family Systems.

 

The women in my group tended to respond to being silenced by talking more---(and leaving).  This protected them from being erased.  I believe this is how my mother-in-law spent her entire adult life…since neither her husband nor her children would pay attention to anything she said.  Conversing with her always fell to the spouses.

 

Unfortunately, being silenced in your most important life relationship triggers fear—and anger.  This is my protective team.  I know the feelings well.  Getting interrupted literally leads to fear of death, in the simple sense that I often felt I could walk in front of traffic or leave the room and no one would notice.  Evaporating in a social situation is terrifying for me.

 

As for the anger—I believe that's a typically male response to the same situation my mother-in-law faced.  If I raised my voice and talked non-stop, I at least minimized my fear.  I knew I would not be listened to if I was silent, or if I spoke loudly, but in the second case of protective anger, at least I knew that the pain of being ignored would not be triggered further.

 

I don't like being angry.  It's a specific response to not being heard.  To not being allowed to participate.  To being told that you're wrong or what you say "does not matter."

 

Anger is not effective.  It has never helped me through a difficult situation, and when I see others exhibit anger (including my non-violent wife) it appears to be the futile ranting of ineffective people.  That's how I am when I'm angry—fighting a lost battle within myself.  However: In the case of my marriage, neither was anything else. 

 

At least anger established a ring of protective fire around me, and it said "No.  You cannot come in here!" to my predatory, needy and insecure wife. 

 

I never met my wife's needs…despite the daily complaints, I somehow misunderstood how dissatisfactory our marriage was for her.  I understand that now, and I apologize to her years after the fact, because my compulsive need to "never fail" made me narrate our time together as a success—when she was also frustrated that I wasn't hearing her unhappiness or boredom or whatever.    

 

Sex was our nemesis, and we turned intimacy into nuclear warfare.  When I got angry, it was the voice of my strongest ally telling me I was about to experience another frontal attack.  I missed every single sign—thousands of them—telling me she had long stopped trying and didn't care if her actions hurt me.  We were both fully justified in our mutual certainty that the other had no listening skills.  That's how we stayed together for most of 28 years.

 

The backstabbing that started in full force in 2010 didn't bother me as much.  Friends would report that my wife trashed me the minute I left the room—the first time I can recall that conversation occurring was then, two years before my father died.  Not a single one of those friendships has survived.  Since those relationships were destroyed while I was not in the room, I was not aware that I needed my anger to protect myself.  I'm angry about those endless backstabbing campaigns my wife ran against me, and everyone else.  Again, too late—I lost that battle so, alone, my anger leads back to where it started…fear and fueling the Inner Critic.  Welcome, friends…