Chapter 1: The Problem Beneath the Problem CHAPTER 1 The Problem Beneath the Problem "The problem is not the problem." Hi, I''m glad you''re home," Jen says to her husband, Andrew, as he walks in the door and puts his keys on the table to greet her. "But you put your keys on the table again. I''ve asked you a hundred times to put them on the hook. That''s why we call it the ''key hook.''?" "Really?" Andrew responds. "I just walked in the door. I almost always put them on the hook.

You really need to bring this up the second I get home?" "Almost always? Hardly. More like ''never,''?" Jen says. "It might be a small thing to you but to me it''s a big deal. I''m the only one who picks things up around here." You may have heard the phrase "The problem is not the problem" before, especially if you''ve been in therapy. When partners are fighting--whether they''re arguing over money, parenting, where to live, in-laws, sex, or taking out the trash--the conflict is almost never about the issue at hand. Don''t get me wrong, issues at hand are important. The trash does need to be taken out, bills do need to get paid, kids do need to be parented, and overall fairness does matter.

The bigger problem, however, is what''s blocking all of the issues at hand from being worked through in a way that doesn''t harm the relationship bond. Only when the bigger problem is addressed can the issues at hand be worked through. The bigger problem, the problem underneath the problem, is almost always one of communication, which we see here in a typical argument between this couple, Andrew and Jen. But it often doesn''t stop here: "Give me a break, Jen," Andrew sighs. "It doesn''t matter how much I do, you''ll find something to complain about. What about last weekend when I cleaned out the garage? And now I''m in trouble over a key hook?" "Why do you have to turn everything back on me?" Jen asks, getting more agitated. "Why can''t you just own the fact that you don''t care about the keys? Or about what I want?" "Because you''re being irrational!" Andrew blurts out. Jen is infuriated.

"Why can''t you be more like my sister''s husband? He actually supports her!" At this point, Andrew, sensing the escalation, switches gears. "Fine, here, I''ll put the keys on the hook. Now can we just move on?" Jen isn''t buying it. She tells Andrew he''s patronizing her. "I give up," Andrew says. "There''s no making you happy when you''re in one of these moods." Andrew leaves the room, leaving Jen fuming on her own. I''m guessing you can relate to some version of this conflict, even if the arguments in your relationship are about something entirely different.

Andrew and Jen''s conversation started out about the keys but in a matter of minutes spiraled into a heart-wrenching battle of emotional weapons and protections, including blame, shame, defensiveness, criticism, and deflection. The episode ended in a silence more deafening than the actual fight. Andrew and Jen may not even remember what started the fight in the first place. What they do remember is how they felt: angry, disconnected, lonely, unappreciated, unseen. Throughout the evening Andrew and Jen remain disconnected. The next day, when they''ve each cooled off enough that the immediate tension has lessened, they miss each other and try to move forward. They go through the motions, and although the keys are in the right place, cracks of resentment have appeared in the couple''s otherwise solid bond. Still, they don''t want to revisit the conversation for fear of another blowup.

The fight is over, but the conflict is not resolved. This episode, or some variation of it, is surprisingly common among couples. Yet, when you''re in it, it''s easy to feel like you''re the only one--that your relationship is doomed; that something must be wrong with you. I''m here to tell you, that''s not the case. I see clients in situations like these all the time. You are not alone. Maybe this type of interaction describes your past instead of your present. you used to fight, but you got tired and gave up.

Instead of arguing, you and your partner just coexist in the same space. You live in a chronic state of emotional disconnect, punctuated by periods of higher tension. It might seem different than Jen and Andrew on the surface--instead of yelling about the misplaced keys, you are silently resigned to putting them back yourself--but couples in this "coexisting" state are also lost in their conflict. The difference is that instead of addressing their problems with escalation, they disengage. The results, however, are the same: real issues don''t get resolved, resentment builds, and connection suffers. These two situations--constant escalating conflict or persistent disengagement--are what usually drive couples to seek out my help. By the time they''re sitting on the couch across from me, the relationship has gotten so bad that they assume they''re just incompatible. The good news is that most of the time, incompatibility isn''t the issue at all.

Instead, it''s about using communication to create attachment-friendly environments and secure attachments. What Andrew and Jen need, what so many couples need, is a way to better reach each other. The Real Problem Millions of couples are stuck in cycles like Jen and Andrew''s. You don''t have to share their circumstances--a traditional American heterosexual relationship--to relate to their predicament. Maybe you''re in a heterosexual relationship, but you live in India, or Germany, or Argentina, and your relationship has a different cultural flavor than most of the examples in this book. Maybe you''re an LGBTQ+ couple. Or maybe there''s no way to define you other than as two humans in a relationship who love each other and want to make it work. Every example you will read in this book is specific but is also universal.

We all have our own problems and our own circumstances, but no matter if you''re gay or straight, in a first marriage, third marriage, or you''ve never been married, these dynamics will affect you. The truth is, your exact circumstances matter far less than your emotional state. Couples like Jen and Andrew might fight about parenting, bicker about finances, or disengage completely because they feel so far apart. Some couples read books, learn to use "I-statements," and set better boundaries in an effort to address the problem. Those strategies occasionally work as temporary Band-Aids, but the truth is, we can''t permanently fix the surface arguments until we get to the root issue. And that issue, almost always, is attachment insecurity. Attachment, at its most basic, is the quality of our bond with the core figures in our lives, and it comes alive during each and every interaction. People who are attached, or attachment bonded , depend on each other for emotional support.

In practical terms, this means, for example, that they know they''re seen and understood, they know they''re appreciated and valued, they know they can access support when they need it. The most powerful attachment bonds exist between either parents and young children or romantic partners, because these are the people we depend on most in a lifetime. In romantic relationships, where attachment bonds are reciprocal (versus parent-child relationships, where the parent is responsible for the child but not the other way around), the bond is strongest when each party''s attachment needs are being met. We''ll do a more thorough exploration into attachment needs in the next chapter, but globally speaking, this means partners can reach and respond to each other''s emotional bids for comfort and connection, and can navigate and resolve conflict with emotional safety. They can give and receive love, and when things get hard, they fight fair. All of this leaves them feeling confident in their connection, and secure in their attachment. Romantic attachment does not exist in a vacuum, because both you and your partner came to your relationship with baggage from your childhood and impactful adult (or teen) romantic relationships. Nobody escapes it; it''s just a matter of degree.

Not all the baggage is inherently negative; it just is what it is--baggage. We enter relationships with varying levels of trust of others and of ourselves, met or unmet attachment needs from childhood, communication patterns, self-beliefs, ways of managing our emotions, and learned behaviors. We also attract, more or less, our same level of growth, even when it shows up very differently. Attachment insecurity is on a spectrum and, while there are always exceptions, the degree to which someone has an insecure attachment is likely the degree to which their partner will also have an insecure attachment. But feeling secure in your attachment isn''t only about your current relationship--your past will always affect your present. When arguments escalate in the way that Jen and Andrew''s did, what couples are really battling is an insecure attachment. They are expressing how much they need each other and how devastating it is to be lost, disconnected, and alone. They use surface content--keys, bills, parenting, and so on--as code to talk about the fears and unmet needs that they can''t effectively express.

Then, to shield against the pain of not getting what they need, partners put up "protective stances"--loud protests, walking away, shutting down--to stave off vulnerability and pain at all costs. But here''s the problem: by protecting themselves from pain, they''re also blocking connection. With all that in mind, consider Jen and Andrew''s fight in.