Dear A&E, 

My husband and his father don’t get on. My father-in-law is traditional, went to boarding school at seven and sees feelings as a sign of weakness; my husband, sent away at the same age, has worked to loosen the bindings of such an emotionally restricted childhood. There’s resentment on both sides: I dread Sunday lunches, when I’m piggy-in-the-middle, and my husband slumps afterwards. Is it my job to be peacemaker? It’s stressful, and the kids hate it 

— Despondent

Dear Despondent,

In the beginning of a relationship everything feels fresh and manageable. Everyone is busy being a little bit marvellous: other people’s families seem so different from your own that it all appears navigable. Your husband, with his emotional literacy, was able to articulate his issues, and you may have felt confident that you could carry him through with the power of your love, or some such romantic reasoning. Then, a few years down the line, you realise that you are caught up in the emotional slipstream; knee-deep in the collusion that everything is fine because you have regular Sunday roasts.

You underestimated the influence of these encounters and how much it would disrupt the cadence of your life and heart. There’s something very depressing about immutable Sunday gatherings – people have suffered over the Sunday table for generations. The dysfunction begins to bed in: everyone is tense by the starter, there are arguments over the main and someone is crying by pudding – you can start to set your watch by the rhythm of the stress.

And this tension that you walk into each Sunday isn’t yours: it’s generational tension, calcified over decades of avoidance. Your father-in-law was sent away to school at seven. Sure, many of his generation believe that their parents were doing the best for them and that they “turned out OK” or even that it was “the making” of them. But, was it? Scroll on to your husbands’ generation, many of whom wonder what the hell their parents were thinking. But no one tries to be a bad parent – people are generally doing their best. Nonetheless, resentments bubble.

In her excellent new book, Every Family Has A Story: How We Inherit Love and Loss, psychotherapist Julia Samuel addresses these issues head on. “Family systems carry more than just our scripts and emotions,” she says. “They also, implicitly and explicitly, set the patterns of behaviour and connection between each member of a family – who has what role and who holds the power – as well as the beliefs and rules around what may be communicated, what is blocked, what behaviour is sanctioned.”

It is constricting for you and your children to be tangled in tension that is not of your making, but you don’t want to burn the metaphorical house down, so we spoke to Julia about your problem. “I can imagine how despondent you and your children feel,” she says. “It isn’t your job to be the peacemaker and it doesn’t sound like either of them are looking for peace. But since you are all being negatively affected by it, I wonder if you could start by acknowledging how different their views are. Not as a criticism, but as a noticing.”

Julia believes that gently pointing out the tensions rather than compensating for them might help your husband and his father be kinder to each other. She suggests that next time an issue comes up over lunch you say: “Isn’t it interesting that you [father-in-law] think this and that you [husband] think that.” By allowing both of their views and attitudes to have a place, rather than jostling for position, you might avoid the usual “you’re right/wrong” battle.

We would also encourage you to change the scene. Completely. This could mean suggesting a Thursday night supper or a walk in the park. We’re not going to say mini golf, but we could – anything to disrupt the ruthlessness of the deadening lunch that leaves you all depleted.

It also sounds like your husband gently needs to be nudged into looking at his family stuff again – just so that his slumping doesn’t turn into something more sinister; and ultimately, once his father has died, there is no more reparation to be done. Also hold in your minds the model that you are providing for your children. The reason Julia wrote the book is because every single one of her psychotherapy clients, in 30-odd years of practice, has focused on family issues. You are not alone, Despondent. Good luck: families matter, and healing is possible.

More from the Midults: 

What readers advised in response to last week’s problem: I’m invisible to my wife – should I leave her for a 22-year-old student?

Melissa Conway: Before you throw away a long marriage, and perhaps also the affections of your teenage children, ask yourself: am I paying enough attention to my wife? When did you last take her out? Surprise her? Whisk her away on a weekend? How is your home life split – does she do all the housework with no thanks or gratitude?

If your wife is paying you enough attention, this is her issue as well, but many men who find that their wives are waning in interest for them also do not see that they are not focusing enough on romance. If you provide well, take her to Venice, Paris, or any number of places for the weekend.
I promise you, the 22 year old will not stick around for long, I am sure she will find you fascinating for a year or two, but after that… *poof*

Tom Archer: The muddled guy is trying to find reasons to dump a marriage, spurred on by the prospect of trading his wife in for a younger model. It doesn’t sound like his marriage has really failed, just that he’s tempted.

I’m twelve years into a relationship where I’m actually older than my mother in law – so large age gaps can work very well – but I was clear of any baggage before that relationship started.

Would it have worked if I had children to support from a previous relationship? I’m not at all sure. This student may be impressed by his maturity, but she is also likely to want his undivided attention. It’s a very different situation to that where both parties have children from previous relationships..