Where do these dreams of an ideal family come from? From childhood? But it’s not a fact that you would want to live the way your parents lived. Most likely, it’s the opposite. So how do you know what a family should look like? Your family?
A family is a place where you feel good. Where all your needs are met. It’s paradise on Earth.
Each of us has experienced a paradisiacal time. That time when we were little. And there were big, adult people who made all the decisions for us and handled all our problems. If they were more or less good parents, we had enough security and freedom.
One of the women’s dreams of an ideal family is the hope that her husband will replace her mother and father.
Behind him, I can feel like I’m behind a stone wall, protected from all the problems of the big world, just like in childhood. In return, I will be sweet. Good, but somewhat capricious. I will do what I love, but “do my homework on time,” I will cook and clean the apartment, and I will take care of the children. If I decide to work, it will be more of a “hobby,” and with that money, I can buy myself “ice cream,” but it’s definitely not enough to buy clothes or feed myself for a whole month. And “up there” will be a big, adult person who will take on all the important decisions, care for me, my life, and our children. If in my childhood it was my mom and dad, then now it will be my husband. So, in this scenario:
The husband is a father figure. The wife is a child who is loved and cared for.
A woman dreams that after getting married, she will live just like she did in her parents’ home. That her husband will become her parents—“mom and dad”—who cared for her, loved her, who made all the decisions and bore the lion’s share of responsibility for her life.
In essence, when creating her family, a woman dreams of repeating her childhood, infantile happiness in her parents’ home, but only in an improved ideal version.
“To be married” means “to live as if in Christ’s embrace.”
The husband is envisioned as a paternal figure—a caring parent for a little girl. Who can be capricious, if she works, only spending money on herself; can “demand her rights,” but must always be unconditionally accepted and loved.
In reality, just like in her parental family, this model implies accountability and control from the “parents” (now the husband), limiting freedom. Parents are responsible for their children, they control them, they tell them what to do and make major decisions. They dictate how to dress, behave, what to eat, and what to do. The level of control and pressure varies in each family. But in the “father-daughter” model, the daughter inherently has much less freedom, and she has to “pay” for love, care, and her provision. “As long as you live in my house and at my expense, you will do what I say.” The price can vary.
If the price is acceptable, the couples are quite satisfied with this family model.
However, it can happen that everything would be fine, and the long-awaited happiness would arrive if your husband didn’t dream… of a mother—not of a little princess (who can very well be a daughter), but of a mother in your guise.
In this scenario:
The wife is a maternal figure. The husband is a beloved, adored son.
In a man’s dreams, the woman will be the ideal, caring mother for him. She will somehow bring in money. The home will always be clean, warm, and well-prepared. “Mom” will manage to do everything invisibly. She will take care of everything and control everything. She will know everything about his health, remember doctor appointments, medication schedules, and ensure proper nutrition. If there are children, she will handle all “daycares, clubs, schools, lessons, parent meetings, and doctors.” She will be somewhat involved in his affairs, support his growth, but grant complete freedom. This is the dream. But in reality, if a woman takes everything upon herself, including providing for the family, she strictly controls the fulfillment of responsibilities by all family members. The husband’s “freedom,” like that of the children, is clearly regulated. Even if the “mother-woman” is not the primary breadwinner in the family, in this model she is “law and order.”
These two models are from the same opera—they are about our hopes for paradise on earth, for a warm, caring home, for a “quiet harbor,” for unconditional acceptance. For the idea that no matter how you are or what you do, you will be accepted and cared for always. You might be sick, unemployed, searching for yourself for years, drinking, or depressed—someone will still care for you, support you, tolerate you, and preferably love you tenderly), and you will be accepted as you are. The dream of an ideal paternal home. Of unconditional love.
It can happen that in a couple, both people have infantile expectations of each other; they are two children who need a strong, adult counterpart. The hungry boy and girl resentfully look at each other.
Neither of them can satisfy the other’s hunger:
– I’m looking for a man who will take care of me. Support me and our children. Someone I can rely on and trust my life to.
– I can’t give you all that. I need a caring mother, a woman who will take on almost everything. How about you be her?”
This is the essence of the conflict that manifests in such couples in all quarrels, dissatisfaction, grievances, tears, despair, loneliness, hunger, and misunderstanding.
The release occurs when there is the realization that neither partner is capable of being the provider for the other, and neither can give the other what they want.
When the hope for a “normal family” collapses. When it becomes clear that there is no one to feed me. That there is no savior. No one will come and save me. No one will take responsibility for me. All I have is myself and my responsibility for myself and my children (if I have them). And how I handle that responsibility is my business. Whether I will go looking for another provider or start seeking support and strength within myself.
The search for support within oneself is a complex and laborious task. This process marks the beginning of the exit from dependent relationships.
But at the same time, it’s essential not to fall into a sense of grandeur and think that you can adequately handle alone what should ideally be managed together. Managing children, working, keeping up with everything, paying for everything—this is no small feat. Breathe. You are not omnipotent.
Dependent relationships promise hope that this person will fill the gap in my life—financial and emotional. “As long as I’m with him, I will never need. I won’t be lonely.”
It’s good when this need is discovered. Discovering one’s own loneliness and separateness from the other person. And as well as the claims that the other should become the provider for you, like a nursing child.
The problem is that a hungry child cannot be fed. This need, this void, can only be discovered. And then filled with one’s own life. With books, creativity, education, communication with different people, friendships, raising children, work, interesting projects, and travel. And not trying to fill the void with the help of one person. This person likely has their own void as well.