A true love that lasts – it’s what many of us are seeking. But New Zealanders have a lot to learn about what builds a successful long-term relationship, psychologist Nic Beets says, and societal trends aren’t helping. Daya Willis asks Beets what makes and breaks long-term love – and four Kiwis reveal what happened when their marriages hit crisis point.
Over his 30-year career, psychologist Nic Beets has worked with hundreds of Kiwi couples. Most have been together for years, and most have come to the painful realisation that the relationship they’ve built their life around has developed some serious structural defects.
The fact they’re in his office at all is unusual, Beets says, because New Zealanders are not good at discussing relationship challenges openly – or even accepting that they’re an inescapable part of long-term love.
“We’ve been bombarded by the romantic mythos that if you just pick the right person, it will be easy,” Beets says. “It doesn’t work that way. Marriage is a people-growing machine. You invest all this time and energy in a relationship – you buy property together, you have children together, you have friends in common, you spend years of your life together – and reliably, inevitably, your personal limitations are going to threaten that relationship. So you have a choice. You either give up on the investment or you grow. There’s a lot of incentive to grow... but doing that work is really painful. And many of us would rather give up.”
Beets should know. After three decades of experience working with private clients, he now spends much of his time training other professionals in the field. He’s also one half of relationship and sex therapy practice Relationshipwork – with his wife, psychologist Verity Thom. They’ve been married for more than 40 years and have raised two children.
Over that time, Beets says, Kiwis have slowly become more comfortable talking about their internal lives – just as external pressures have mounted.
“We live in a society where a very small number of people are getting a lot richer and the rest of us are getting a lot poorer. For a lot of people in the middle class, things have gone backwards, and for people in the working class, things have gone a lot further backwards. It takes two incomes to support a family for the vast majority of people. And that has real implications for families.
“[Verity and I] were just talking last night about the numbers of parents we see with young kids who have no external support. The majority of the time it’s the women who are left literally carrying the baby... and [we see how] inadequate and incompetent and unvalued they feel.”
Working parents are under increasing pressure too, Beets says, with office time bleeding into personal time and the unspoken sense that putting career first is a prerequisite to success. Blue-collar workers are most vulnerable to exploitation, but professionals are also struggling.
“I was working recently with a [specialist in the medical field] who had a lot of status, a lot of wealth, and they were being treated appallingly by their employer. So it’s happening at factory level and at the top level.”
The fallout is exhausted and stressed people who take that exhaustion and stress home to their partners and kids. So what’s the solution?
Beets says the first step is understanding that “a relationship, like any enterprise, requires time and energy for it to function well”.
“You’ve got to keep doing the things you find rewarding as a couple – so maintaining your fun... For some people, that might be going out to dinner. For others, it might be going for a walk together, or sitting and watching a silly movie. It doesn’t matter – whatever works for you. For most couples, it also includes maintaining a sex life, [with the] understanding that yes, sex does require planning ahead for most parents of children, but that doesn’t make it unromantic.”
The other key to lasting love, Beets says – and this is the big one – is learning how to deal with your differences.
The big five (and the big caveat)
When asked about the most common conflict areas he sees in long-term relationships, Beets has a clear answer – and a complicated caveat.
First, the five big flashpoints. They’re money; parenting; sex and intimacy; boundaries with other people (“The inlaws, the ex-partners, you telling secrets to your friends,” Beets explains); and the allocation of time and energy and who gets to decide (“Division of domestic labour, that kind of thing”).
Now for the caveat. Beets describes these as the “content areas”, but says they’re almost never the real issue.
“There’s a difference between the content of what [people are] having difficulty with, and the process. And really the problems lie in the process. The universal problem is that somewhere in one of those content areas we run into a difference that we just don’t know how to resolve. And dealing with difference is the core business of being in a long-term committed relationship.”
It’s a myth that “happy couples” don’t run into those differences, Beets says, citing research carried out by respected US psychologist and academic Professor John Gottman.
“[Gottman] assessed couples according to how happy they were in their relationships. He predicted that the high marital satisfaction couples would have fewer ruptures in their relationships, less conflict, fewer misunderstandings. Not true. The happy couples and the unhappy couples had as many ruptures as each other – the difference was that the happy couples knew how to repair them quickly and effectively.”
Beets says he’s worked with many people who have learned that lesson and repaired their relationships – and some who made the breakthrough too late.
“I recall this conversation with one guy who was speaking with real regret, saying ‘this is my fourth marriage and I’ve finally worked out the common denominator is me’. He wasn’t a bad person – it wasn’t that he delighted in [hurting others] – but in hindsight he could see the harm he had caused by refusing to look at himself.”
The fundamentals
Beets says two fundamentals must be in place before a couple can learn to resolve their differences: “trust and respect” and “teamwork or partnership”.
Trust means “knowing your partner’s got your back. The key question is are you there for me? When the chips are down, can I rely on you? And that’s both practically and emotionally.”
Teamwork is a concept that many Kiwis – particularly men – struggle with, Beets says.
“There are all these things are necessary for a partnership to run – forget all the romance and love stuff. If it’s a partnership of equals, there has to be trust and there has to be respect and there has to be communication – and there’s got to be consensus. There’s no hierarchy in a partnership. If I do anything in my business, I consult my partner. Not because I need her permission, but because that’s how partnership works.
“So many people just don’t have their heads around the fact that if you’re in a partnership, you consult. Men in particular are socialised to only see things in hierarchies. Boss-employee. Winner-loser. Top dog-doormat. They don’t even have a model for consensus decision-making. And they experience that as control, rather than the necessary price you pay for the rewards of being in a partnership.”
That’s changing slowly with time, but many Kiwi men are still weighed down by a cultural legacy that glorifies silent stoicism, Beets says.
“It is changing – and I’ve got to put a plug in here for John Kirwan, because the publication of his autobiography and that chapter he wrote about depression was an absolute turning point in the willingness of men in New Zealand to talk about mental health issues... [But] there’s still a lot of unconscious bias. Even with my younger male clients, they’ve been given less opportunity to be emotionally expressive.”
That means it’s still tough getting men to seek professional help when they’re struggling – and the gender disparity in the counselling sector doesn’t help.
“Go and look at the average couple therapy website. There’s a 90% chance that the therapist is a woman, and that her website is really feminine. I’m not saying a woman can’t be a good therapist for a hetero couple – but that it’s important that men believe they are going to get a fair hearing.”
LGBTQI+ people can also hesitate to reach out because they don’t see themselves or their life experiences represented.
Divorce done well
When should people who are no longer happy in their relationships seek professional help? And how do they know they’ve done enough to make the right decision about the future?
There’s no simple answer here either, Beets says. The key is to start with an open discussion and set some parameters.
“If we’re talking about people who have children together, the downstream consequences of separation are a big deal for all concerned... so one of the ways to do it is to say ‘okay, let’s go to therapy fortnightly for a year and see if we can make this a relationship we can enjoy again. And if we can’t do it in a year of concerted work, then let’s call it quits.’ I think that’s a reasonably pragmatic approach. The proviso there is that both of you have to commit to that process of learning and growth and change.”
Beets says the couples he works with are increasingly open to less traditional relationship models, such as ethical non-monogamy or polyamory, which he sees as a positive. He’s also noticed that younger couples are seeking therapy early, often before they have children – another big step forward.
Still, whether they’re prepared to do the hard emotional work or not, not all Kiwi couples will get the happy ending they’re hoping for. Last year, 7995 marriages ended in divorce, according to Stats NZ, and that’s not counting the de-facto ones.
So what advice does Beets give to couples who have decided they’re better off apart – especially when kids are involved? Is there such a thing as a “good” split?
“Absolutely there is. Verity and I both come from separated families where the separation was done really well... where there was a really respectful and caring and supportive co-parenting [arrangement]. That was at a time when nobody was divorcing, so there was no road map or advice for our poor parents – and they managed to get that one very right.
“[The key thing is to] stay respectful. When I was first starting out, I did some Family Court training. And one thing they taught me there is that your child is made up of 50% of your partner and 50% of you. If you dis your ex to your child, you are running that child down. And that is really, really, really harmful to children. It happens a frightening amount of the time.”
Stay or go? Four Kiwis share their stories
Chris*, 55, HR consultant – two children, 14 and 17
When did you think about leaving your relationship? Why?
The boys were 5 and 8. Leaving aside the general contributory catalysts such as time, money and sleep, I think there were a couple of things which added up to “f*** it”.
I got to the point of feeling/believing that the person I married wasn’t my champion any more. Sniping, choosing her moments to cut me down, or maybe getting her courage to in front of others. We had been going through couples counselling and it was recommended we do our own individual counselling, which we did. I’d been in counselling for years for depression and learned that I had to look at myself principally for solutions to my problems. With her counselling it was the opposite – coming home with a shopping list of all the things I needed to change without any self-reflection. That’s when I knew we were done.
What was the turning point (to stay, to go, or both)?
In addition to the point above, I had an affair which lasted a year. Many times I had that ‘stay or go’ thought. Ultimately my decision was twofold and binary. Would I ever be happy remaining in the marriage? Yes/no. And then would I be happy with this other woman? Yes/no. The answer to the first question was no and I realised anything beyond that didn’t really matter given the circumstances and turmoil. I made a plan to leave, had secured a rental house for me and the boys a 10-minute walk from the family home, spilled my guts and left. I wish I’d handled it better.
How did the kids cope?
I will say remarkably well now, but telling them – my ex and I together – was the worst day of my life. It was so, so sad. Their faces.
My decision to be close by was the right one – when staying with me the boys always had their own rooms, toys, clothes, games, etc and they knew it wasn’t dad’s home but their home with dad. They helped me choose their bedroom furniture, lounge furniture, etc. Being close normalised everything early for them, including same distance to school, staying involved with their mates and clubs, etc.
I’m sure it sucked for them at times in the early years but each of us let them know how much they were loved and we mostly kept our own issues with each other from them. The boys have never heard a bad word about their mum from me, despite how I’ve felt at times. I think that’s been a massively important element in their happiness.
Would you make the same decision again?
Undoubtedly, but without being stupid enough to have an affair. That really poisoned the well for a long time.
Do you have any advice for people in the same situation?
Although parents split up, through the children they will always have a relationship of some sort for the rest of their (our) lives. It’s hard in the early days, really hard, but keep that long-term view in mind and try to maintain whatever goodness and kindness is possible.
Birthday parties become pre-prom drinks, become 21sts, become family dinners, become maybe engagements, weddings for the kids and their close friends. Keeping that in mind is important. Continue to share decisions and co-parent so they have consistency in expectations. It’s s*** when you’re going through the separation and divorce and the days are sometimes very dark, but like in most storm and crises, light follows.
Sarah, 54, retail manager – two children, 22 and 23
When did you think about leaving your relationship? Why?
One of the first times I seriously thought about leaving the marriage the kids would have been around 7 or 8, still at primary school. The main issues for me at that time in the relationship were what I saw as my ex-husband’s selfish actions, such as financial irresponsibility and a lack of effort towards the kids/household.
Because he was from another country I felt hugely guilty even contemplating it – he had no family support here and I would be simultaneously abandoning him while trapping him here because of the kids.
It would be 10 years later that we actually separated.
What was the turning point (to stay, to go, or both)?
I wouldn’t say there was one turning point, but rather a series of moments that progressively eroded the hope of being able to make it work. When I actually left there was an awful lot going on externally that forced the issue.
How did the kids cope?
Um – not great! Because of the circumstances. If we had negotiated a separation without the drama of everything else it would have been a lot better for them. They knew the marriage was pretty shaky for quite a while and were quite grown up about it, but it was still really s****y and upsetting.
One of the kids now has no relationship with their father, which adds extra strain on everyone in the family.
Would you make the same decision again?
Probably. If I could do things over I would certainly make some different choices. I’m not proud of my actions towards the end of that relationship. I really just didn’t know how to end a marriage – especially when the other party definitely did not want to, so it carried on way too long after I was completely checked out.
Part of me thinks I should have left earlier, that it would have happened one way or another; but also I never forced the issues that needed to be dealt with at the time.
If those had been dealt with more openly I think there would have been a good chance to get the marriage back on a better track, and if that didn’t work then it may have been a much healthier separation.
Do you have any advice for people in the same situation?
Yes: face any problems early. Put your big girl pants on and have difficult conversations. If you can’t find a way to resolve things that you’re both happy with then you’re growing bigger problems with resentment down the line.
Lewis, 49, writer and actor – 11-year-old twins
When did you think about leaving your relationship? Why?
We got married a little bit younger than we meant to – we were kind of forced together [due to immigration issues while living overseas]. So right at the beginning it felt a little tenuous.
The first big crisis point came a few years in when I’d been away working. I was trying to assert my independence – going out and having a good time and not communicating with [my wife]. And she was saying “you can’t behave like that anymore” – reminding me that I was part of a relationship now and she needed me to touch base with her and let her know what was going on. We’d both been drinking, and we had this big fight where tensions rose to the point she was hitting me. I said “If you hit me again, I’ll hit you” – and I slapped her.
That was the darkest moment of my life. We’re both from abusive backgrounds and it felt like it all came out in that moment. That was the rock bottom – we sort of went, “If this is what we bring out in each other, we’ve got a really big problem.” That’s where there was a real choice... it was so unpardonable what I had done – and she also knew she had tried to push me to the place where I confirmed what she ‘knew’ about men. We spent two months apart, and she started therapy with an amazing guy. That’s what got us both into therapy actually.
The second time we came really close to splitting was when the kids were about four months old. She had PPD [post–partum depression] and she was in a really, really bad place – she would say she felt dead.
One day she was ready to go. She basically said “I’m out, f*** this, f*** you, I’m moving back to my mother’s place with the kids.” I said, “I’m not going to stop you, but just give me 10 days.” I bought her a cup of tea in our bedroom and she was lying on the bed and she just went for me. She laid out all my failures – why I was a s*** father, a s*** husband, a s*** man. She went for all my weak points – she said everything I had feared about myself. It was pretty much relationship suicide.
I just sat there and took it and didn’t say anything. She later said the fact that I didn’t leave after that... was the most loving thing I could do. It was a really deep stress-test of the marriage, and she needed it. She needed to know I wouldn’t leave.
It took a long time for me to process the stuff she’d said to me. In the end, I got to the point where I realised, ‘this person sees me in all of myself and she still loves me’. She still chooses me.
What was the turning point (to stay, to go, or both)?
In the end, we just feel we kind of belong together. We both have a fairly strong sort of faith or spiritual belief system... I think there’s a soul link – there’s a soul journey we need to go through in this lifetime and we’ve chosen each other. We’re bonded. It’s not always easy, because we’ve both been through a lot.
We’ve also been really stubborn about this marriage thing. She’s always willing to put in the work – and she’s made me that way too. If things are bad, we know we can make them better.
Did the kids know things were tense? How did they cope?
We do argue at times, and the kids hate it. We don’t try to hide it – we tell them we’re arguing because we’re trying to work something out; we’re trying to come back together.
Conflict among parents isn’t a thing that damages kids – it’s not seeing the resolution that damages them. We try to model the emotional stuff for our kids. Whether we’re doing it right, who knows? But that’s what we’re trying to do.
Do you still think you made the right decision?
Yes. We’ve built so much around each other. I know I’m not going to find anything better and I can’t imagine ever leaving – it would be like cutting off one leg to run faster.
Do you have any advice for people in the same situation?
The only piece of advice I ever give to new parents is forgive yourself early and often. Tell yourself, “Yes, i’m f***ing up – i’m going to f*** up all the time.”
Secondly, at the bottom of any anger is an offended sense of righteousness. It’s that you wronged me and I’m in the right. For me the thing that really helps is digging deep into why I feel wronged and how I can deal with that. I try to change the conversation in my own head.
To me, therapy is a fundamental need. People think therapy is to fix things that are wrong... but therapy is coaching to exist. If you’re in a relationship, some kind of reflective work – whether it be therapy or bible study or community work or whatever; something that helps you become a better human being – is really important.
Zoe, 51, copywriter – two children, 20 and 24
When did you think about leaving your relationship? Why?
I had post-natal depression after I had my first child. I was young and isolated and my partner and I hadn’t been together for long. I was in a really bad way and I felt like my partner wasn’t hearing me when I tried to explain that I desperately needed help. He’s since told me that he didn’t fully understand how sick I was, he didn’t know what to do and he felt like he couldn’t take time off work. Money was really tight. In the end I left with the baby and stayed at my mum’s place.
I slowly got better and we ended up moving back in together. My partner always made it clear that he wanted to be with us.
We had another baby four years later and I had PND again, but I was in a much better position to understand what was going on and get help. He was much more aware too. I have to say, though, that I held onto resentment – or maybe fear? – for a long time afterwards because I felt like when I really needed him, he wasn’t there for me.
The second time I hit a bit of a turning point was when my eldest son left home. I had that classic ‘If I’m not being a mum, what am I for?’ response – basically a midlife crisis–slash–identity crisis. I also felt old and unattractive and all that cliched stuff. I wasn’t sure my partner and I wanted the same things.
The other element that was lurking beneath everything was the sense that I was the one who had given up so much more for our family – I gave up my career so I could stay home with the kids, I gave up all my time and my personal space and my interests and my perky boobs. It felt like my partner gave up much less – he still had his flash career and his earning power and his status in society – and he gained two lovely kids and a partner who kept the house clean and bought his mum birthday presents.
We’d both agreed on that setup because he earned so much more than me, but it often felt like I got the s*** end of the deal.
What was the turning point (to stay, to go, or both)?
When we were younger, to be honest, I probably stayed mostly through fear and hope. Fear because I’d come from a pretty messy broken home and I desperately didn’t want that, and because I had a mum on the DPB so I knew what it was like to be poor with kids. Hope because I knew my partner was a fundamentally good man who loved me and the kids. We kind of hung on for dear life for a while there.
Later on, when the kids were leaving home, we had some really honest conversations about what we both wanted going forward. I needed change, and I told my partner that if he didn’t, I was going to have to look at my options. I also had a really strong sense that it was my turn – my turn to focus on work for a while, my turn to look after myself and do what I wanted to do. He understood that and we’ve started making some changes together.
It made a massive difference to me to hear him say that he understood how much I have given to our family and he’s really grateful for it. I feel like he didn’t really say that until the kids were a bit older but maybe I just didn’t hear him. He says it quite a lot now, to me and to the kids – and it really gets me in the heart (in a good way) every time.
How did the kids cope?
I’m not sure the kids knew I was having a crisis before they left home – although kids are much more perceptive than we give them credit for, so they probably did. I’ll ask them sometime.
Because my partner and I both come from broken homes with a lot of chaos, we’ve always been incredibly careful to keep our issues away from the kids. I could probably count on one hand the number of times we’ve had a proper argument in front of them. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Would you make the same decision again?
Yes. I’m glad we held on and had faith when the kids were little.
I’m glad we still love each other and like each other now that it’s just the two of us. Life suddenly feels a lot easier – practically and financially – and we’re having fun. I didn’t anticipate how freeing it would be when the kids left (as much as I love them). I can recommend an empty nest.
Do you have any advice for people in the same situation?
I guess I’d just say that relationships and parenting can be really hard – especially now, when people are under so much financial pressure. Accept that you’ll f*** up – a lot. Accept that you’ll resent your partner sometimes. It took me ages to see that my partner missed out on a lot too – he worked really long hours to provide for us and my life at home with the kids often looked really good to him too.
Overall, if you still recognise what drew you to your partner in the first place, even when they’re making you nuts – if you think they’re a fundamentally decent person and a good parent – sometimes you just have to hang on and have faith. In my experience, if the fundamentals are there, the more you weather as a couple, the stronger you’ll be.
When I look around me at the couples who have split, I’d say if there’s contempt in the relationship, you’re done. If your parenting styles are very different, you’ve also got a big problem. Sex is important. One person might be okay without it but usually the other person won’t be.
Sometimes, though, relationships that have been good stop being good – and I don’t think there’s any shame in that. If you’ve tried and you’re on different paths, fine. The good times you had together don’t just disappear. People change and sometimes they don’t change in the same ways. You just owe it to your kids to behave like grown-ups when you split.
* Names and some identifying details have been changed
- Make Love Work: A Practical Guide to Relationship Success, by Nic Beets (Allen & Unwin New Zealand)
