A Stamp of Discontent
Sarah and Michael, a couple of over three decades, stood at the bench in the bustling post office. Despite their bodies being close, their spirits were miles apart, a stark contrast to the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead.
“For heaven’s sake, Michael, you’re holding the pen wrong,” Sarah hissed, her voice low but sharp. “You’ll smudge the address.”Michael’s shoulders slumped imperceptibly.
“I’ve been writing addresses for fifty years, Sarah. I think I know how to hold a pen.”
“Well, clearly you don’t,” she retorted, snatching the envelope from his hands. “Look at this mess. We’ll have to start over.”
As Sarah crumpled up the envelope and tossed it into a nearby bin, Michael felt a familiar wave of resignation wash over him. This simple act of discarding an envelope seemed to carry the weight of their unresolved conflicts, a stark reminder of their deteriorating relationship.
The Weight of Years
While Sarah was occupied, Michael’s mind wandered to happier times. He recalled their first date, a picnic in the park where they had laughed for hours, and their wedding day, Sarah radiant in white, her eyes sparkling with love and promise. These memories, once a source of joy, now served as a stark contrast to their current state.
When had that spark faded? When had their conversations turned from loving whispers to constant bickering? Sarah returned, thrusting the new envelope into his hands.
“Now, pay attention. The return address goes in the top left corner. Make sure it’s straight.”
Michael nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He began to write, his hand trembling slightly.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Sarah exclaimed, loud enough to draw curious glances from other customers. “Your handwriting is atrocious. Give it here.”
The Unraveling Thread
As Sarah snatched the envelope away, Michael felt something inside him snap.
“Sarah, please,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can do this. Just let me try.”
Sarah paused, her pen hovering over the envelope. For a moment, Michael thought he saw a flicker of the woman he had fallen in love with all those years ago. But then her expression hardened.”We don’t have time for your attempts, Michael. We need to get this package to Emily before her birthday.”
Emily. Their daughter. The one bright spot in their increasingly gray world. Michael wondered what she would think if she could see them now, squabbling over an envelope like children.
The Surrender
“You’re right,” Michael said, his voice hollow. “You do it. You’ve always been better at these things anyway.”
Sarah’s triumphant expression faded slightly at his tone, but she quickly busied herself to address the envelope. Michael watched her neat, precise handwriting fill the white space, each letter a stark reminder of her control over their lives.
As they finally approached the counter to send their package, Michael caught their reflection in the glass partition. They stood side by side, two people who had shared a life but now seemed like strangers. He couldn’t remember the last time they held hands, the last time they kissed with any real feeling.
The Unspoken Truth
The postal worker processed their package efficiently, and soon, they stepped out into the afternoon sun. As they walked to their car, Michael felt the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him, a heavy silence stretching between them like an unbridgeable chasm.
“Sarah,” he began, not sure what he wanted to say but knowing he needed to say something.
“What is it now, Michael?” Sarah asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion.
He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the lines of frustration etched around her mouth, the weariness in her eyes. He wondered if she saw the same in him.
“Nothing,” he said finally. “It’s nothing.”
As they drove home in silence, Michael couldn’t help but think about the envelope they had just mailed. It was addressed perfectly, every detail in its right place. But as he glanced at Sarah’s profile, rigid with unspoken irritation, he realized their relationship was like that envelope – correct on the surface but empty inside.
The car rolled on, carrying them back to their house. But Michael knew, with a certainty that ached, that it had long ago ceased to be a home.
Sarah and Mark’s love story began like many others – with sparks flying and hearts racing. They met at a local coffee shop, bonding over their shared love of indie music and obscure films. As they fell deeply in love, they revelled in the excitement of discovering each other’s quirks, dreams, and fears.
In the early days of their relationship, Sarah and Mark were inseparable. They spent hours talking, laughing, and planning their future together. Every gesture, no matter how small, was cherished. Mark’s habit of leaving his socks on the floor was endearing to Sarah, while Sarah’s tendency to interrupt him mid-sentence was just another adorable quirk to Mark.
As the years passed, however, initial euphoria began to fade. The human need for connection and safety that had drawn them together started to feel less urgent. They no longer felt the need to impress each other or put their best foot forward.
[Human nature strives for connection to feel safe and protected. Familiarity undermines the value drawn from a relationship and can lead to contempt.]
Slowly but surely, they began taking each other for granted.
One day, Sarah realized Mark hadn’t listened to her in weeks. He seemed to anticipate her thoughts and finish her sentences, often incorrectly. When she tried to explain her new project at work, he waved it off, saying, “I know, I know. You’re stressed about the deadline.” But that wasn’t it at all. Sarah felt unheard, misunderstood and undervalued.
[Sarah’s human nature tactic of comparisonitis creates frustration and leads to emotional thoughts of Mark changing from a caring partner to an uncaring one.]
[Catastrophization then makes this a terrible thing and proves that Mark doesn’t love her, and she resents his lack of care, given all she has done for him in the past.]
Meanwhile, Mark found himself increasingly irritated by Sarah’s habits. Her interruptions, once charming, now felt disrespectful. He focused on her flaws, overlooking the many things she did well. He barely noticed when Sarah cooked his favourite meal, but it felt like a personal affront when she forgot to buy milk.
[Human nature needs Mark to be valued to feel safe. Comparisonitis judges the difference between Sarah’s behaviour at the beginning of their relationship and her behaviour now. This leads to irritation, producing emotional thoughts that Sarah is not the girl he married and does not value him.]
As time went on, their perception of each other became increasingly skewed. Mark’s mind began to catalogue Sarah’s mistakes, creating a mental tally of her shortcomings.
Sarah, in turn, found herself dwelling on Mark’s perceived failures, forgetting the countless times he had supported and cared for her. One evening, a simple misunderstanding escalated into a full-blown argument.
Sarah assumed Mark would pick up groceries on his way home, but Mark thought Sarah had already done the shopping. Instead of communicating clearly, they retreated into defensive positions, each feeling undervalued and unappreciated.
As the argument raged on, neither Sarah nor Mark tried to truly listen to or understand the other’s perspective. They were too caught up in their own frustrations and assumptions. The tactics they once used to resolve conflicts now seemed ineffective, as if they were speaking different languages.
In the aftermath of the fight, Sarah and Mark felt drained and disconnected. They realized that they had stopped trying to clear up miscommunications and misunderstandings somewhere along the way.
It was easier to assume, judge, and let minor irritations fester.
This pattern continued, with each passing day widening the gap between them. The human nature that had once drawn them together – the need for connection and understanding – was now undermining their relationship.
They had become victims of their complacency, allowing daily life’s demands and biases to erode the foundation of their love.
As Sarah and Mark stood at this crossroad, they faced a choice: to continue down this path of disconnection or to consciously work against the natural tendencies that were pulling them apart.
Their story reminds us how easily relationships can be undermined by the very human nature that creates them and the constant effort required to maintain a deep, meaningful connection.
Human nature drives us to seek social connections for the safety of our species. We tend to compare and judge the safety of our relationships constantly.
When we feel that our relationships are unsafe, we tend to exaggerate the potential dangers and act to make our environment feel safer.
Instinctive actions are innate (fear of heights) or shaped by exposure to life-threatening past circumstances. When there is no actual danger, our instinctive behaviour may seem illogical, irrational, impulsive, and destructive.
Is there any hope for improving Sarah and Mark’s relationship? Can a person change? A leopard can’t change its spots, and we question the ability of an old dog to learn new tricks. But what about a human?
A way to reasonably answer such questions is, “It depends.”
A way they can go about trying is to treat love as a thing they do. Can they fall “in love” again? Perhaps, but to do so, they must start the actions of love again.
Listening, overlooking, valuing, and consistent effort can appease the human need to feel safe, meaningful and valued.
Loving leads to falling “in love”.
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