The Dance of Intimacy

by Harriet Lerner

  A Third Triangle

  In time, a third triangle developed, involving Julie, Shirley, and Emma. Shirley began to openly criticize Julie’s mothering, even in front of Emma (“You just can’t let her go out dressed like that in this cold weather!”) and to undermine her authority (“Emma, let’s not tell Mommy that I took you for this hot fudge sundae, because she just wouldn’t understand”). When anxiety was up, Julie and Shirley would have tense exchanges in front of Emma about her care, and later Julie would blame her husband for not defending her. Rob did everything possible to maintain his distant position in the triangle. It afforded him much relief to be outside the intensity and to be protected from navigating the real emotional issues with his wife, his mother, and his daughter.

  If you’re feeling a bit lost in these triangles, that’s understandable. It’s difficult to “think triangles,” and even more so when we are in them. Although triangles are difficult to observe, we all participate in multiple interlocking triangles, one or two of which are particularly central in our emotional life. Our position in one triangle may be a transient reaction to stress. In another triangle, our position may be rigid, fixed, and highly resistant to change. Triangles solve a problem by lowering anxiety when it can no longer be contained between two persons. But triangles also create a problem by covering up the real relationship issues between any two of the parties and by operating at someone’s expense.

  Doing Something Different

  What if Julie were able to shaft her position in one of these stuck triangles? For example, what if she found a way to relate to her mother-in-law calmly and cordially and even stopped criticizing her to Rob? What if Julie also ceased fighting with her mother-in-law about Emma’s care and found a way to lower her reactivity in this arena? For example, she might joke with her mother-in-law when Shirley criticized her parenting, instead of fighting with her about it: “Do you really think I’m raising Emma to be a stringbean? [Laughing] Well, we Hendersons [her family name] have so many pumpkins on our family tree, we could sure use a few stringbeans!” If Julie were feeling particularly courageous about trying out new moves, she might further shift her position in the triangle by asking Shirley to share her expertise, experience, and advice. That is, she could try to relate to Shirley’s competence, which she has entirely lost sight of.

  If Julie could maintain this new position over time, family relationships would shift. Tension and conflict would begin to surface between Rob and his mother. The issues in her own marriage with Rob would also become more clearly identifiable. The triangle might begin to look like diagram C .

  This would be a transitional stage on the way to more functional relationships. When intensity is up, mother-son and marital struggles would erupt, offering an opportunity for issues to be identified and addressed where they really are. In addition, Emma would benefit enormously from no longer being the focus of negative intensity between her mother and grandmother. She would have a much easier time growing up.

  Of course, to initiate such a change, Julie would need to become more self-focused. She would have to put her primary energy into working on her own family rather than on reacting to Rob’s. She would also need the courage to sit with the anxiety that is inevitably evoked when we change our part in a key triangle—and the real issues between parties begin to emerge. As we will see in the next chapter, changing our part in a stuck triangle is anything but easy.

  Why is it Julie’s job to change the triangle? It’s not. Nor did Julie make the triangle happen. Each person in a triangle is responsible for their own behavior and any one person can change his or her own steps. The triangles that we get most stuck in are at least several generations in the making and their major ingredient is chronic anxiety. No one person “does it” to the other two.

  As usual, the person who is concerned or in the most pain is often the one who finds the will to change. Rob could also change the triangle, but he is unlikely to do so because he is more comfortable with the status quo. The triangle protects him from facing the real emotional issues in his relationships with his mother, his wife, and his daughter.

  So, What Is a Triangle?

  Do you recall how anxiety can affect a relationship system? People divide into two camps, one or both parties get overfocused on the other (and underfocused on the self) in a blaming or worried way, and they ultimately wind up in extreme and polarized positions.

  There is, however, an additional part to the story. Two-person systems are inherently unstable. Anxiety and conflict will not stay contained between two parties for more than a short time. A third party will quickly be triangled in (or will triangle him- or herself in). This process operates automatically, like a law of physics, without conscious awareness or intent.

  The third party in a triangle may be in one person’s camp at the expense of a relationship to the other (you don’t see your Uncle Joe since your mother stopped speaking to him; you are cut off from your dad since he divorced your mother). The third party may be in a mediating, peacemaking, or fix-it position (your parents fight and you move in to advise the parent with whom you have the most influence). Or the original two parties may get focused on a third individual, in a worrying or blaming way (as marital distance increases or an important anniversary date approaches, you and your husband become increasingly anxious about a child; you and your dad talk frequently about your mother’s depression, convinced that you both know what’s best for her).

  Triangles take countless forms, but we can count on the fact that when tensions rise between two parties, a third will be triangled in, lowering anxiety in the original pair. The third party may be inside the family (a child, stepmother, grandparent, or in-law)—or outside the family (an affair or best friend). Even a therapist can be a third leg in a triangle if he or she joins the client’s camp at the expense of a spouse or other family member. Such triangulation can also occur if a therapist is fostering a “special” close relationship that detours intensity from real relationships rather than increasing the client’s motivation to solve emotional issues at their source.

  A Word About Gossip

  Gossip is a universal form of triangling with which we are all familiar. The higher the underground anxiety between two parties, the more the conversation will focus on a third. For example, when you meet your mother for lunch, a big chunk of the conversation may be about your dad, or the problems of your younger brother. There may be little real sharing of self by either you or your mom that doesn’t involve a worried (or blaming) focus on someone else.

  You can just about measure the level of anxiety in a work system or family system by the amount of gossip. By “gossip,” I mean talk about another person, with a focus on that person’s incompetence or “pathology.” We consolidate our relationship with one party at the expense of a third—or we attempt to dilute our anxiety by getting others in our camp. Gossip has nothing to do with intentions. Our conscious intentions may be only the best.

  A friend of mine returned from a Christmas dinner with her extended family where the underground anxiety had been quite high. This Christmas was the first without her maternal grandparents, who had both died during the past year. “It was a zoo!” my friend exclaimed upon her return home. “My aunt was cornering me to tell me how my mother is not taking care of her appearance; my mother was angry at her brother and didn’t want me to sit next to him; my father cornered me to tell me in hushed tones about my mother’s crying spells . . . and so it went!” No one talked about the missing grandparents and how sad the family was that they were not there.

  Does talking about a third party always indicate a triangle? Of course not. For example, we may have a problem with a friend or co-worker and approach a third party for support or to obtain a more objective perspective. This kind of discussion may allow us to calm down and consider new options for dealing with the original party. Often, however, we have the best intentions for talking about a particular individual (“I just want my daughter to know the truth abo
ut her father!”) when actually we are inviting someone into our camp and operating at the other party’s expense. This is particularly true if the person we are talking to (e.g., our daughter) needs to have a relationship with the person we are talking about (e.g., her father).

  If dyads are inherently unstable, triangles are inherently stable, just as a tricycle is more stable (although less functional) than a two-wheeler. Triangles can last for years, for decades, and over generations. They are not “wrong,” “bad,” or “sick,” but rather are natural ways to manage anxiety in human systems. They serve the adaptive function of stabilizing relationships and lowering anxiety when it can no longer be contained between two parties. Triangles are simply the basic unit of human emotional functioning. As with any relationship pattern, the question is how flexible or fixed is the process?

  Child-Focused Triangles

  Children are ready-made for triangles; they absorb and detour anxiety from any source. Let’s look briefly at a typical child-focused triangle that was a relatively transient reaction to anxiety and stress.

  “For Willy’s Sake”

  Bill, a thirty-seven-year-old high school principal, became anxious when his wife, Sue, was accepted into a doctoral program in counseling psychology. Like many men, he was unable to articulate his fears directly, even to himself. Instead, he worried about the well-being of their two-year-old son, and confronted his wife on the child’s behalf: “Willy needs you at home! I won’t have him raised by a stranger!”

  As Bill and Sue argued about “Willy’s needs,” their son became more anxious and began to react loudly to his mother’s departures. A vicious cycle ensued as Bill intensified both his concern about his son and his criticism of his wife (“You see how sensitive he is to your absence!”). Willy, in turn, became even more ill-behaved and clingy.

  It took only a few months of nonproductive fighting and blaming for both Bill and Sue to become self-focused and to address the issues between them. Sue, a black woman, was the first person in her family to enter a doctoral program; she had more than her fair share of anxiety, which she avoided by fighting with Bill. Bill got in touch with how threatened he felt about Sue’s graduate studies, and with his discomfort at his own father’s criticism of Sue’s decision.

  With a little help, Bill was able to articulate his fears to Sue and to talk directly with his dad about his disapproving attitude. Sue got in touch with her own discomfort about her pioneering position in her family, including her anxiety and guilt about having opportunities that were not available to previous generations of women, or men, in her family. She was able to talk with her mother, sister, and grandmother about her fear of both success and failure, and so learned more about their reactions to her decision to pursue a doctorate.

  As Bill and Sue began to work on their own issues, little Willy stopped acting out. No longer the focus of parental anxiety, he was also less afraid that something bad would happen between his parents if his mother went back to school. Within a few months, the entire family had calmed down enough to weather Sue’s transition to graduate student with a minimum of stress. Although this couple was unusually quick to get unstuck from a child-focused process, their situation illustrates that it can be done.

  A Societal Triangle

  This child-focused triangle is also evident at the societal level. Think back to the initial male response to the women’s movement. Men did not typically say, “I’m scared and threatened by the changes women are making.” Or, “I don’t want to share housework and child care, and so I feel resentful when my wife asks me to do so.” At the early stages of feminism, we did not often hear men speak about the self, or in “I” language, or with their own voice.

  Instead, the media focused relentlessly on “the needs of children,” which pulled everyone’s heartstrings. In the ‘70s we all were treated to the picture of the small child staring glassy-eyed at the institutional walls of the day care center—while his mother ran off to fulfill her potential. The image itself was enough to frighten and induce guilt in any would-be feminist, and then Kramer vs. Kramer became a big hit. This “Change back!” reaction was a countermove to women’s efforts to define the self, and not surprisingly, it took the form of blaming women and focusing on children.

  Of course children have needs. But so do mothers and fathers. This focus on “the needs of children” did not reflect an actual investment in supporting the many children and families who needed help. Rather, it was a typical societal triangle, similar to the one between Bill, Sue, and Willy. Focusing on “the needs of children” (“Mama stay home!”) protected us from identifying the locus of the problem’s existence—between grown men and women. How easy it was to express worry that children would be damaged by misguided women in flight from their maternal responsibilities. How difficult it was (and still is!) for men and women to work together in order to change policy, work institutions, and family roles so that we can be a nurturant and cooperative society truly attentive to the needs of children and families!

  Whenever adults are not actively working to identify and solve their own problems, then the focus on children may be especially intense or children may volunteer to deflect, detour, and act out adult issues in most imaginative ways. Indeed, children tend to inherit whatever psychological business we choose not to attend to.

  A good friend tells the story of becoming extremely reactive after a teacher’s conference in which she was told that her second-grader might be an “underachiever.” She began to monitor her daughter closely, looking for any evidence of a problem; her daughter, in turn, became more anxious. Several weeks later, as my friend found herself lecturing this seven-year-old child on “goal setting,” she suddenly realized that she herself had been feeling particularly stuck regarding her own professional directions. She had recently arrived at an important anniversary date, the age when her own mother—a bright and colorful woman—took a downhill turn and became increasingly unable to use her own competence. With this greater degree of self-focus, my friend was able to apologize matter-of-factly to her daughter for being on her back and explain that the issue was really her own. As she put her energies into working on it, her daughter’s anxiety lessened.

  Rampant Reactivity: From Child-Focus to Self-Focus

  Child-focused triangles can be extraordinarily intense, depending on the level of anxiety fueling them. Consider this firsthand report.

  Several years ago, my family went out to dinner and then to a Saturday night baseball game in Kansas City. At the restaurant, I found myself concerned about my son Matthew’s sluggishness and apparent fatigue. Later I noticed that he got up to go to the restroom four times during the game: he looked sick to me. Shortly before the ninth inning, I suddenly “knew” in my bones that Matthew (then age ten) had juvenile diabetes. The idea hit me not as just a possibility or a concern, but as a dreadful and unbearable truth.

  My husband, Steve, often minimizes his concern in proportion to my exaggerated position, but not that night. By the time we got home that evening, Steve was well into the marital fusion and he was scared too. He called the pediatrician early Sunday and described the symptoms (fatigue and constant urination) that we had observed in Matthew the night before. The pediatrician suggested we wake Matthew immediately and meet him at the hospital emergency room. In retrospect, I imagine that the doctor’s own sense of urgency (he might simply have told us to watch Matthew that day and get back to him) was partly a response to our contagious anxiety.

  Steve woke Matthew and explained the terrible situation with as much calm as he could muster. With a heavy heart, I watched them head off to the hospital. I stayed home with our younger son, Ben, so unable to contain my own anxiety that I called my friend Emily to stay with me during the waiting period. I have faced far more potentially serious crises than juvenile diabetes in my lifetime, but I have never experienced anything worse than that Sunday morning. Until I received the report that Matt’s blood test was normal, I could hardly stay within my o
wn skin.

  Obviously, my emotional reaction far exceeded even the reality of juvenile diabetes, had this unlikely diagnosis been confirmed. Later, I felt terrible about what I had dumped on Matthew, who was understandably shaken by being the focus of such extreme intensity.

  Back to Self-Focus

  The emotional process in my family on that particular weekend was as intense and dysfunctional as one could find in any family on this planet. If anxiety gets high enough, none of us is immune from going off the deep end with however we manage anxiety—be it overfunctioning, under-functioning, distancing, fighting, or child-focus. Significantly, however, I did not stay stuck in reactive gear; that’s what makes the difference. I hope I would not have stayed too long in the reactive gear even if the diagnosis had been different.

  Once I was able to call on the thinking part of my brain (which took time and help from my friends), it was evident I had my work cut out for me. I needed to get a clearer perspective on my own health anxieties—anxieties that have roots in issues and events that have come down over many generations. I thought I had “dealt with all that,” because I had had several weighty conversations with family members about my mother’s first cancer and my grandmother’s early death from tuberculosis. Of course, it’s a process, and working through the emotionally loaded issues on our family tree may take several lifetimes. Working on them consciously—even a little bit—offers many advantages over letting the unconscious do it for us.