When to Forgo Couples Counseling

A year ago today, James’ father and I officially separated, per the state of South Carolina’s requirements for obtaining a divorce.

It has been a long, emotionally fueled year. A lot of crying on the floor and impromptu dance parties with James before bed. I am so happy and thankful to be where I am now – closer to my independence, with James, and in alignment with myself. Divorce is no picnic, it’s really f’ing hard to go through, even when trying to be amicable, as we have. But being close to the other side of divorce is wonderful. (I worry I’m writing this too soon as we’re not even close to the finish line yet, but this is how I’m feeling now, in the midst of this long process.)

I don’t want anyone to think that I write about these personal experiences with any malice in my heart towards James’ father. Quite the opposite; I write in hopes that my experience may help another woman, another struggling mother, know that she is not alone. The six years I spent in silence, trying to figure out what to do, were excruciating. I want every woman reading this to know that I am here for you in any capacity. Also, I have no judgement for women who choose to stay and work on their marriage – I think that’s wonderful. Everyone’s situation is unique.

But I did want to share how I slogged through that decision and came out on the other side.

As Audre Lorde states, “Your silence will not protect you.” I think part of our conditioning as women and mothers is to believe we’re supposed to keep our private matters private. But how else do we learn if we don’t talk about it? How else do we realize we’re not alone? How else do we know how to move forward?

Silence is the tool of patriarchy.

So I will speak, and tell my story.

Here is a piece I wrote about sexism I experienced in couples’ counseling and how I decided to stop going. I look forward to your thoughts. Please feel free to share the piece (or restack it with the circle button) and thank you for reading.

“Saying No To Couples’ Counseling”

I’ll never forget when John, our couples’ counselor, said to me in our one-on-one session over zoom, “If what you’re telling me is true, there’s no relationship here to save.” After six years of couples counseling with various organizations, both local and national, in just one session, a man no less, the only man we ever worked with, spoke the truth plainly. Two weeks later James’ father and I separated amicably, and a huge weight lifted in my life.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge proponent of therapy, self-help, and any practice that supports someone to better understand themselves, find some peace in this chaotic world, and further their self-love. I’ve been in some type of therapy since the third grade and don’t plan to ever stop. These past two years alone, in wrestling with the question about whether to stay in my marriage and how to further my own self-growth, I’ve been in intuitive therapy, worked with a Sharma, tried Psych-K therapy (it’s not a drug, although it sounds like one), studied enneagrams, explored my Human Design, and continued writing for my MFA program, because art is the ultimate therapy.

But my experience in couples’ counseling has been stifling, if not downright harmful, a sentiment that has been shared with me by other female friends. During our first experience at couples therapy (with a highly decorated female doctor), when our son was under a year, I don’t ever remember talking or being asked to join in the discussion. Most of the session was my husband venting his frustrations and the therapist accommodating him. Why was I not allowed to talk or share my story? I was the one doing all the work, taking care of the baby, and the household, and trying to get back to work.

Two winters ago, in a two-hour zoom session with a female therapist from Chicago, I was told I didn’t know “how to be vulnerable enough,” and “if I asked for something with an expected result, this was a demand, not a request.”

I had broken my ankle, was non-weight bearing for eight weeks, was crying constantly and clearly depressed during this session, and yet asking my husband to make instant rice for a family dinner because I couldn’t, was too much. I remember having to stifle a guttural scream as the therapist made these comments, which I now realize was my body’s natural response to protect me from the lies she was peddling. Thankfully I had my own therapist to turn for help during this time.

The final straw was when we flew to Boston six months later for an intensive couples’ session to save the marriage. The two days entailed eight-hour sessions with a one-hour break. During my private session with the woman, I was asked if “I thought I could work on having sex with my husband again,” without any forethought into why I was no longer copulating with him, such as a breach of trust, loss of respect, feeling invisible, new abortion rules threatening my life should I get pregnant, etc. He was never asked, to my knowledge, why having a vasectomy to support me was completely off the table.

Then, at the fifteenth hour, when I pointed out that our main issue had not been addressed, his refusal to support me when I asked, my husband rolled his eyes with contempt, I had a panic attack, and had to leave the room for twenty minutes. Once again, my body was speaking loudly when I was at a loss for words. The session concluded with our female therapist saying she was “hopeful for us,” because we had not encountered any external attacks on our marriage (adultery, bankruptcy, addictions, etc.) and that we just needed to spend more time together. My panic attack was never mentioned.  

All of this reminded me of the scene in Untamed when Glennon Doyle’s female therapist suggested she should try giving blowjobs to her cheating husband, since Doyle (shockingly!) felt uncomfortable having sex with him anymore.

Couples’ counseling, like society, sells the belief that all marriages can be saved, just keep showing up to therapy, just keep trying. We’re conditioned to believe that unless you experience infidelity or abuse, the relationship is salvageable if you just keep working on it; the you – of course – in this scenario, is the mother. Instead of addressing the latent and often overt sexism inherent in all marriages or telling fathers they need to show up emotionally and help the household function on a daily basis without being told “how” to do so, therapists focus disproportionally on “communication” as the fundamental problem, telling women, like me, we’re not expressing ourselves properly.

But the reality for many marriages is it’s not about how the female communicates; the men are conditioned not to listen and not to address the inequality that solely benefits them. Are all female couples’ therapists inherently sexist and trying to maintain the patriarchy? No. But marriage at its core in our society is one of the major branches of patriarchy, if not the trunk itself, and when in the business of working with people trying to save their marriage, perhaps one becomes inundated with this pervasive, outdated, destructive thinking.

Part of the patriarchal mantra is to make a woman believe that if she just keeps working at it, keeps doing the household labor and the emotional labor and the mental labor for free, maybe it will get a little better (I credit Zawn Villines and her brilliant Substack, Liberating Motherhood, for this education). But it doesn’t get better. How could it? Men aren’t held accountable in our society, why hold them accountable in marriage?

As Audre Lorde says, “The Master’s tools will never dismantle the Master’s house.”

In my opinion, a good marriage is not solely about communication. It’s about action; it’s about seeing your partner as your equal; it’s about pulling your weight; it’s about repair; it’s about turning toward each other; it’s about taking responsibility; it’s about coming to the table as fully and as openly and as healthfully as you can. And men not showing up for their work (emotional, mental, and physical) within the home, regardless of a paycheck that may be acquired outside the home, is abuse. We should not learn to equate perseverance and loyalty to our marriage vows as a scrim for tolerating abusive behavior. The harsh truth is that some marriages aren’t salvageable without abandoning yourself, and in that case, it’s advisable to walk away.

Now wouldn’t it be more helpful if couples counseling could help us discern the difference, as our last counselor did with me in just one session?

In my experience, couples therapy was all talk and no action. My husband could wax poetic for an hour, sound empathetic and emotionally intelligent, which he is, and then back home, nothing would change. It took another man to call him out.

So, if you’re going to couples counseling for anything more than help with communication, don’t expect much support as a woman.

This is why, one month into our separation, when my husband asked if I wanted to go to couples therapy, I said no, and felt no guilt. I said if he wanted to see someone together to work on co-parenting through the separation and divorce, I was game. He concurred, reluctantly, and I thought to myself, look at that—our communication skills are improving!