Men Are From Mars Women Are From Venus

Please excuse the tired metaphor, but I really think that John Gray was onto something. This isn't about his book, and I by no means align my marital perspectives with all of his (both as a married person and as a marriage counselor). However, I do agree that men and women are two completely different creatures.

There have been many books written regarding the psychological differences between males and females. Although I think most people recognize that men and women are very different, in some ways we sometimes think that the other gender is just a different version of us. But women are not just prettier, more emotional men, and men are not egotistical stoic women.

You can read R' Aharon Feldman's The River, The Kettle and The Bird  to learn about "understanding the different natures of male and female, controlling anger and criticism, fostering love, giving and gratitude." John Gray's Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus books share "a practical and proven way for men and women to improve their communication by acknowledging the differences between their needs, desires, and behaviors"

Alison Armstrong, author of In Sync With the Opposite Sex, Making Sense of Men, Understanding Women and other such books/workshops writes about how each gender has different realities. Because this is true, and many people don't understand this, we treat the opposite gender based on specific expectations and thus in a way that causes them to treat us poorly. Clearly, this gets in the way of having a mutually satisfying relationship.

For example, Armstrong relates that most men are driven by duty, honor, and obligation. Many women don't understand what this means and assume that men make decisions based on the same things that women do, to avoid someone being mad at them for example, or some other emotional reason. She explains that men (generally) want to take care of, make happy, spend time with, contribute to, and protect their women. A man responds to how he's treated, so if a woman stops being receptive or criticizes him, he loses motivation to be her knight. Armstrong proposes that a woman can "turn her prince into a frog" if she treats him in the way she naturally treats the females in her life.

Gray talks about how men and women tally giving and receiving love differently (women want consistent small things not just one big act of caring), how they deal with stress differently (women want to talk about things but when men are stressed they retreat and isolate), among other ideas.

There are so many books out there at this point that will share the secrets to a happy coexistence. I think it boils down to a simple understanding -- men and women are by definition different beings.

So let's break it down. While it is true that not all men are the same or want the same things, and not all women are the same and want the same things, there are some very basic differences that show up across cultures and upbringings. I've seen it where the guy sometimes will have the more stereotypical female traits and vice versa, but generally partners end up with someone who sees and experiences the world very differently than themselves. 

People generally marry someone who is their foil in so many ways. Whether its this psychoanalytically understood "attachment reenactment" where someone (often subconsciously) marries their partner to recreate and resolve old childhood wounds, or just simply that opposites attract, it would be boring to marry someone exactly like you. Because this is true, you have to realize that you'll likely end up with someone who doesn't speak the same "language" as you. 

The more we understand the opposite sex, the better we can get along with and support them.

Male and female realities are often very different:

• They give and receive love differently.
• Most stereotypical men lean towards showing love via physical touch, acts of service, and problem solving
• Women show love through words of affirmation, quality time and emotional nurturing.
• They process emotions differently.
• Men are generally socialized to suppress emotions and/or manage them privately
• Women express and process emotions more openly and seek connection and verbal processing to feel better
• They communicate differently. 
• Men tend to be more solution-focused
• Women are process-focused, and they can walk through emotions without needing a solution, just empathy and presence
• The conflict/connection dance is different between genders. 
• Men generally shut down and withdraw in the face of conflict
• Women often push for further connection and conversation
• Their validation needs differ. 
• Men feel loved when they're respected, appreciated, and admired for what they do
• Women tend to feel loved when they are seen, heard, and understood for what they are

Of course, these are all stereotypes, and you may find men and women that take on the more stereotypical male or female opposite tendencies. These patterns are influenced too by culture, upbringing, and personality, not just sex/gender. 

The important piece to remember though, is that no matter what side of the fence you find yourself on, you're not looking across the table at someone of the opposite gender that in general thinks like you. He or she is seeing the world through a different kaleidoscope if you will, a different set of rules, different needs, a different coding language. Act accordingly -- ask questions, don't make assumptions, be curious, learn what s/he needs or wants. 

It’s Not Your Fault if Someone Hurts You

With regards to relationships, we talk a lot about trust. Earning it. Breaking it. Rebuilding it. But there’s something we don’t say enough:

If you trust someone who ends up hurting you, that’s not your fault.

Let me say that again, in case you need to hear it louder:

IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT.

You are allowed to trust people. You are allowed to believe someone when they tell you they care about you. You are allowed to lean into closeness, to choose connection, to give someone access to your heart without being blamed later for their betrayal.

I have a client who started dating someone and really wanted to build something meaningful with her. But early in their relationship, he found out she had been talking to other guys in ways that felt flirtatious and crossed boundaries. When he brought it up, she told him she just believed guys and girls could be close friends, and she hadn’t really thought it was a big deal.

It was a big deal to him. It hurt. It wasn't aligned with his relationship values.

But they kept talking. She listened. And as their relationship grew more serious, she began to make changes—on her own. She stopped communicating with those guys, unfollowed and/or blocked them, and began checking in with him when one of them reached out. She even offered to give him her phone password—not because he asked, but because she wanted him to feel safe again.

She’s done a lot to earn his trust back. But even now, months later, he still struggles.

Because she hurt him once, and now he lives in fear of it happening again. That fear—though understandable—is getting in the way of their connection. It’s keeping one foot in the door, just in case. It’s making it hard for him to believe that she won’t do it again, even though she’s shown every sign of growth and commitment.

This is the trap of broken trust: we start believing that if we hurt, it must be because we weren’t careful enough. That maybe we should have guarded our heart more. That next time, we won’t be so easily fooled.

But that kind of thinking doesn’t protect us. It just punishes us for being human.

Because here’s the truth: If someone hasn’t given you a reason not to trust them, you don’t owe them suspicion.

And even if they once did break your trust—but have since done the work to rebuild it—you get to decide whether you want to stay, and if you stay, how to let yourself live fully in that choice. Even more so if others in your life caused you to build this narrative and belief that you can't trust people, don't apply that as a general rule.

You don’t have to keep bracing for betrayal just to prove you’re strong. You’re not weak for trusting. You’re not naive for believing someone can change. You’re not foolish for choosing to love.

If someone breaks your heart, the pain is real, but the blame is not yours to carry.

So let me give you permission—

To trust. To hope. To love. Even when there’s risk involved.

To stay soft even after being hurt. And to stop punishing yourself for what someone else chose to do.

You deserve connection.

You deserve peace.

You deserve to stop questioning whether it was your fault.

It wasn’t.

Stop Trying to Fix What Isn't Yours

Ok, back to some relationship blogging, a break from the life stuff for a moment.

This is a very important relationship skill, an important life skill really.

Don't take responsibility for other people's feelings. 

Read that again.

You are not responsible for other people’s feelings.

You can care. You can show up with empathy, kindness, and support. You can apologize if you caused harm. In fact, please apologize if you caused harm! You can apologize even if you didn't mean to cause harm, especially if you didn't mean to hurt someone. But their experience is their own. Don't try to explain it away or fix it. Just make space for it. Don't make it personal and don't internalize it.

You cannot take someone else’s pain away. You cannot process their emotions for them. You cannot fix what’s not yours to fix.

Sometimes we feel this intense pull—especially in close relationships—to make someone feel better. To soften their anger. To take away their sadness. To fix the discomfort between you. Or even just to explain yourself when you seem to be the reason why they're sad, mad, or hurt.

But feelings don’t work that way.

They’re deeply personal, often tangled up in stories that go way beyond the current moment.

And no matter how badly you wish you could, you can’t climb inside someone else’s emotional landscape and make it okay for them.

They just need space.

What you can do is own your part if you’ve done something hurtful. But the rest of it is theirs to work through. And it's really freeing to get to this place where you don't try to fix things. You don't need to feel bad or this sense of urgency or guilt. Making space is the best thing you can do.

Because their feelings are theirs. Their healing is theirs.

When you don't try to fix someone else's feelings, you don't take responsibility for them. You let them have their own emotional experience; you let them feel whatever it is they need to feel. And you can be there on the other side of it. But you cannot, and should not, try to climb into it for them. It doesn't work, and will make you both frustrated.  

Here's another side benefit of not taking responsibility of others' feelings. When someone you are close to (a partner or another family member or close friend) has strong negative feelings about something, their feelings often permeate your own. Sometimes their feelings even seem to be your fault. When you realize it's just how they're feeling, what they're experiencing internally, then there is no need to fix them or "put them out" no matter how painful they may seem. The person himself/herself needs to deal with the feelings and the best way they can do that is alone.

Benched

If today feels like it might never end, I must remember it's but a blip in time. It feels interminable, but in reality it's a page in a longer story. 

Benched, but not forgotten. Watching, waiting, resting. Knowing the game isn't over yet.

There’s a kind of ache that stretches time, that makes minutes feel like hours, and hours feel like they might just swallow you whole. It's the pain of waiting, the painting of days in shades of loss, of the unknown. Of grieving and hoping in the same breath, over and over again.

Right now, this day feels defining. Heavy. Like it might be etched into the architecture of life forever. And maybe in some ways it will be. But not the way it feels right now—not in the way pain insists it will always matter this loudly.

The truth is—today is only one thread in the big tapestry.

But it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like everything. It feels like it defines me. But somewhere far off, future me will glance back at this moment and barely remember the exact contours of this quiet mess, or which emotion came first. The rawness will soften. The sharp edges will dull.

This moment, where I feel like I’m drowning, is actually a gasp for air between laps.

It reminds me of the space between heartbeats. Silent, easy to miss, but vital. The beat matters—but so does the pause. The quiet between. The place where nothing is certain but life is still happening.

I don’t know what’s coming. I don’t know if hope will be realized or how long it will take. I don't know if things will just have to evolve and adjust. I just know that time doesn’t freeze, no matter how much grief or longing tries to convince me it has. It moves. Even now, it moves. And I have to believe that good will come. 

And someday, today will be part of the before. Just a brushstroke in the painting. A foggy memory that once felt enormous but now fits inside something larger—something lived through, a step along the path.

So I breathe. Mark the letting go. I hope, or try to. I remind myself that I am still here. Life's still in motion. I'm not standing still with everyone else moving around me. My path is just different than I thought it would be.

This is the quiet between heartbeats.

And here, life is waiting.

On the bench before play, waiting for my turn, knowing it will come when it's time. 

The Quiet Between Hearbeats

Dear Me, the One Who Waits,

I see you. Sitting in the in-between. Not where you were, not yet where you long to be. Caught in the aching middle, where hope and grief live side by side and every day feels like too much and not enough.

You didn’t choose this. You didn’t ask to become familiar with this kind of waiting—the kind that bleeds, the kind that reminds you over and over that you are not in control. And yet, here you are. Still showing up. Still hoping. Still breathing, even when it hurts.

I know you’re tired of being patient. Tired of aching. Tired of the silence when you’re begging things to speak in signs of life, of readiness, of possibility. Tired of feeling like you’re stuck while the world moves on.

But I want you to know: you are doing more than enough. You are holding space for dreams and for pain at the same time, and that is a holy kind of strength. You are not broken, even if you feel like a puzzle with missing pieces. You are healing, even if it’s slow and messy and invisible.

It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to grieve the version of life you thought you’d be living by now. And it’s okay to still want—to still try. Wanting doesn’t make you ungrateful. Hoping doesn’t make you naive. It makes you brave.

So today, rest if you can. Cry if you must. Dream if you dare. And when tomorrow comes, you’ll meet it exactly as you are—waiting, hoping. 

With all my love,

Me

You Were Supposed to Climb the Mountain, Not Carry It

It feels heavy. And not just metaphorically. Your shoulders ache. Your back is tight. Your mind is worn. You’re exhausted in ways you can’t quite explain—because this isn’t just about fatigue. This is about a weight you weren’t meant to bear.

You were supposed to climb the mountain, not carry it.

But somewhere along the way, you forgot to start at the bottom. Maybe you panicked. Maybe you thought you had to already be at the top. Maybe someone told you that strength looks like pushing through with the summit strapped to your back.

So you picked up the whole thing—the grief, the pressure, the fear, the expectations, the past, the future—and tried to haul it all at once. You didn’t even tie your shoes. You didn’t pack water. You didn’t look up to find a path. You just began, with the full weight pressing down on you.

And now it’s hard to breathe. You don’t know if you can go on much longer. Every step forward feels like you’re sinking deeper. You wonder if this is just life—endless burden, silent struggle.

But here’s the thing: mountains aren’t carried. They’re climbed.

They’re scaled one step at a time, sometimes with shaky legs and unsure footing. You stop to catch your breath. You rest. You re-tie your shoes. You ask for help. You adjust your route. You don’t lug the whole thing on your back—you take it in pieces, meeting each stretch of terrain as it comes.

There’s nothing weak about starting at the bottom. There’s nothing shameful about needing to begin again.

You don’t have to prove anything by pretending you’re already there.

So if it feels unbearably heavy right now, maybe it’s not because you’re failing. Maybe it’s just because you were never meant to carry this mountain in the first place.

Put it down.
Start over.
Tie your shoes.
Take a sip of water.
And climb.

Right of Way

Sometimes life just feels so heavy. I'm not sure if it's because challenges seem to come in clusters, or when you're dealing with one hard thing you have less space and energy to deal with anything else. I've often felt that when one big thing is exceptionally challenging everything just 'tends to go wrong'.

And then I'm forced to take a pause. How much is this about focusing on the negatives? It's something we all do. We're programmed to do it. It's somewhat an evolutionary thing. We notice things that feel off, threatening, or wrong as a means to fix them. (Whether we take it that far or not is another story.) But honestly, I think this is a lot about the focus and meaning we attribute to things.

Of course it's easy to stay positive when things are generally easy and upbeat. Of course hard things make life more difficult, but I'm wondering if there's a "Right [of] Way" (driving pun intended obviously). How much does our self talk matter?

Negative self talk plays a large role in people's unhappiness, for sure. But how much does focusing on the positive work to make things feel "better"? I'm hardly a Pollyanna, but I do think that positive psychology is onto something. Gratitude journaling works because it forces us to think about good things that are happening around us that maybe we take for granted and not just focus the uncomfortable things that of course we let bother us. 

I do believe that when we turn up the volume on the good stuff life sounds a whole lot better.