The hormonal rush and emotional excitement of new intimacy can be a wonderful holiday from normality. But it’s probably a good idea to remember that it can’t last, and that it doesn’t necessarily end because anything is ‘wrong’, but because the heightened attraction and novelty – and the buzz of seeming to be as wonderfully attractive to someone as they are to you – simply can’t last.
Some people do become addicted to that high, and go from one new partner to another to keep getting a fresh hit. I count myself as having been one of them for a while. But I discovered that, like with all drugs, increasing doses were needed to get the same effect, and I predictably ended up on my own feeling lonely and isolated. After a withdrawal period of a couple of years, reflecting on what went wrong and how not to repeat it, I realised that to have a healthier connection with anyone else, I needed a better relationship with myself. Mainly to stop needing someone telling me they adored me, to convince me that I was worthy of love. It had always been hard for me to keep believing that, anyway, because my self-esteem was so fragile. And it took a few weeks of counselling for me to discover where that negative inner attitude came from – my critical father – and to start feeling that maybe I wasn’t so bad after all.
The positive upshot was, I started dating again, and the next woman I met and fell in love with, I asked to marry me. The main thing I’ve learned since then, as that chemistry between us has settled down to something more sustainable, is that love can only last if both partners feel are willing to put in the necessary work into making the transition from hormonally-inspired passion to the more grounded reality of day-to-day love – while still keeping enough of that passion alive to make life interesting. I discovered that, however much we may seem have in common with someone, we’ve all had very different life experiences and may well have perspectives on some things that are important to us, which are wildly different—especially if any of our past was traumatising in a way that left us with touchy areas or blindspots. These difference tend to be obscured by the hormonal and emotional rush of new attraction in the early stages of a relationship, and so it can be a shock and a disappointment when they surface, as they surely will, unless we’re ready for that.
I’ve found that the key to maintaining and building a strong connection when dealing with differences of opinion, or even conflict, is empathy – taking the time to properly listen to our partner’s point of view, and accepting it as equally valid to our own (and communicating that clearly to them) – as well as sharing on our own perspective and where we think that comes from. Staying far away from any idea of trying to prove we’re right – however much we might want to think that! – and avoiding the traps of blaming or defensiveness, so we can just hear and accept what we both believe or feel.
One of the joys of being in a close relationship is having someone who can reflect back a different angle on things that I feel strongly about. This can help me see my ‘beliefs’ in a different and maybe a more balanced light, so we can find common ground in spite of our disagreements. If this isn’t possible, because our differences are simply too deeply rooted, we can at least ‘agree to differ’ in a mutually understanding and accepting way – as long as this doesn’t entail compromising one of our core values. As an adult I have no ‘right’ to expect my wife to be able, or willing, to empathise with me or support me in the way I’d like, or feel I need.
I try not to have unrealistic expectations that neither of us can live u to – although I’ll always want to give a nudge to see if the potential for change is there. But ultimately, the only ‘right’ either of us have is to is decide whether we are getting enough of our core relationship needs (mutual acceptance/attraction/respect) met to make staying together a mutually enjoyable and life-enhancing experience.
If at some point in the future we feel that the gap between us is too great to be bridged, that may be the time to accept it’d be better for us to part. After having had such high hopes in the beginning, neither of us wants to split up now. But the worst option would be staying together, but with buried resentment and disappointment, because of not having the courage to face change, or out of some kind of co-dependency. It never works to try to ignore the differences, make them into taboo conversational topics, and carry on pretending everything is ‘fine’. Buried conflict has a habit of coming back with more intensity, and over time will just get harder to resolve; it’s always better to deal with deep disagreements one way or another as soon as possible.
Meanwhile, I’ll keep doing my best to stop my marriage being added to my too-long list of past relationships. In a future column I’ll let you know how it goes for us.
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