Lead a horse to water even if they don't drink
Yesterday, my friend Colton dropped by out of the blue. He brought over a bag of donut holes to share despite his diabetes. This means he's having troubles with his wife and needs to vent.
I put the coffee on, and he wasted no time getting into it. He starts by asking how I'm doing, but his mind wanders off the moment I open my mouth.
Betsy is his second wife, been married some 20 years, and throughout those years, Colt has sat before me on such occasions, griping about his "wife" over any treat from the donut shop.
Betsy is considerably younger, so this is part of the problem. And, to be honest, little by little, I've seen how she's taken full control of his life. The older he gets, the more she babies him. He doesn't mind the babying part, thinks it's love, but he gets angry whenever it starts to feel like belittlement.
From my point of view, Colt is the family step-and-fetch-it. He's got a huge heart, and the wife takes full advantage of it. He does all the grocery shopping, cooks every meal and serves it up, cleans up, takes care of the yard work, does all the household fixes and car repair as expected, but in return the wife often finds fault in how he's done things. Mainly, she complains if he left things out of place or didn't clean things up properly.
So it's when he reaches his breaking point that he blows his stack, storms out of the house, and heads to the donut shop for relief.
"She's giving me the silent treatment," he sighed. "Said I raised my voice to her. Well, what the hell does she expect?"
I tell him he's got no boundaries and needs to grow a pair, but he just waves me off like I'm making no sense. Truly, he's the horse you lead to water who won't drink since he knows that's just not who he is.
What he really wants is to figure out how to make peace with her, and he's here to do that in my company.
"So she's always right?" I ask.
"No, but she does nice things for me..."
"Like what?" I'm curious because he's never given me any examples. Just says, "I don't know, but she does." He must be referring to the babying part he enjoys.
So I suggest he go home and apologize for his outburst. But he stays put, reaches back into the donut hole bag, and brings up other offenses. In other words, he's not done venting.
Now I'm thinking. Why me? I'm not a therapist or even married. What makes me the expert? Why do I have to give up my time to listen to his saga whenever things go south?
Well, let me tell you why.
I'm comfort to him, and that's what he needs in this moment. I have patience, too, and he needs someone to validate him because, deep down, he's worried she'll leave him, being she's so much younger.
I know that's what's circling through his troubled brain. He just needs reassurances, and as a friend it's what I do. It's about him, not me. Donut holes are a bonus.
At the end of this day, I know he'll apologize to his wife, I'll be a pound heavier, but I'll sleep well knowing I made time for someone in need.
But I'm wondering, does anyone else out there have a Colt in their life?
Sanatana
This is a great story. I have to admit, however, that you have a lot more patience than I do. As a therapist, I run into these scenarios all the time. I work on leading my clients to the water, but often, they just won't drink it. It can be frustrating. But maybe, like you wrote, what's important to them is to have someone listen, not tell them what to do. So I guess I'll listen.
Present Valley
What a good friend you are. What a beautiful story demonstrating just that!
I think everyone needs one good friend who is willing to listen and not judge. I do have a Colt in my life and we just chatted yesterday. I know I'm not going to change her. Sometimes she does try out the advice she asks for. Mostly she just needs to hear the sound of my voice, me listen to her continuing saga and at the end of our time together know she is loved. When we hung up I felt good in my soul.
Evangel
I admire your genuine kindness and tender heart. I think good listeners such as yourself are bound to have several Colts in their life. Complainers can vent for hours at a time getting stuff off their chest, and as good as that feels to them, it's sympathy they also crave. In college, I was everyone's go-to for "therapy." This continued into my 30s with needy friends until it began to drive me crazy. Finally, one day, I had enough. When one of the usual complainers came to me for comfort, I told them that was it, no more, I had enough, especially since they never had the presence of mind to ask me how I was doing. I've always been sensitive to the needs of others and happy to help. But when I finally put my foot down, I felt liberated, unburdened, and free from carrying everyone else's weight. Had I been trained as a therapist maybe I wouldn't have lost my patience. Had they demonstrated an ounce of caring toward me, it wouldn't have put such a strain on my brain.
Thanks for sharing your story. I really enjoyed reading it.
Well Street
To pick up on Evangel's comment, if Colt's perpetual venting over the same topic isn't wearing you down and your friendship is mutually beneficial, power to you. It sounds like you're doing a good job of meeting your friend where he is with your patience and willingness to listen.
I have a client who is friends with someone who routinely disrespects him. I hear stories regularly about what they did or said that angers and hurts my client. He's told his friend how their words and actions affect him, but little changes. The proper course would be to end this relationship, but my client has a very poor self-image and, at least for now, he's willing to stay in it.
Like you, I listen non-judgmentally, which he's thanked me for several times.
Wilsons Grave
Thank you all for your comments. I feel like I'm in good company and not the only one who's experienced this challenge--or the only one making time to hear another's complaints. I'd say if I come to a point when I have to shut someone down, there's also got to be a way to be kind about it. The only way for me to figure that out is to place myself in their shoes first, and feel how I'd want that moment to land.