'You complete me' may sound romantic, but is it really healthy?
Post published by Barbara Markway Ph.D. on Mar 17, 2015 in Living the QuestionsSome people always seem to be in a relationship; they can’t stand to be alone. Recall Tom Cruise's tile character in the film Jerry Maguire, who utters the famous line, “You complete me.”
That may sound romantic, but it’s not the healthiest way to form a bond.
Meet "Emily" and "Adam." Emily had hurled herself at Adam, pressuring him for a commitment before either was ready. She had been married before, in her late teens, mostly in an attempt to free herself from her parents’ reins. She had one daughter from that marriage, and the divorce was amicable; she and her first husband simply grew apart as they realized they married too young to truly know what they wanted in a relationship.
Emily was dating before the divorce was even final. She felt compelled to go out every weekend, thinking it a waste of time to spend any weekend nights home alone. After a few brief relationships that, according to her, "didn't pan out," she met Adam. There was a strong mutual attraction between them, and they began dating.
Emily made it clear to Adam right from the start that she wasn't interested in "just dating." She was looking for a long-term relationship. Never married before and slightly younger than Emily, Adam was a bit wary, but because he liked her so much, he didn't say anything, and the relationship progressed. Within a few months, Emily brought up marriage. At that point, Adam slammed on the brakes and expressed his concern about the pace at which they were moving. He told Emily he wasn't ready to become not only her husband, but a stepfather as well.
Devastated, Emily sank into depression, making it difficult for her to function at work or care for her daughter. Adam still cared for her, and asked if there was anything he could do to help. When Emily suggested they seek counseling together, he reluctantly agreed.
That's when they came to see me.
I quickly gathered that this was a relationship constructed on panic—not the strongest of foundations. I gave the couple my impressions, and suggested that before counseling could be of much benefit to them, we needed to deal with Emily’s fear of being alone. She'd never been without a man in her life, and seemed to have no sense of identity or purpose outside of a relationship.
Many current approaches to couples counseling involve teaching communication skills and other behavioral techniques. I make use of these approaches when appropriate. In Adam and Emily’s case, I thought such an approach would be premature. I was reminded of Irvin Yalom’s (link is external) book, Existential Psychotherapy, in which he writes about our common journey as human beings, and the realities—he calls them “existential concerns”—we all must face in order to be whole.
According to Yalom, one of these realities is "our fundamental isolation"—the fact that, despite our relationships with others, we die alone. Why is acknowledging this fact so crucial? In recognizing our aloneness, we learn not only the rewards of relationship, but also its limits. In effect, we learn what we cannot get from others.
Yalom writes:
Put in simpler terms: If we’re panicked at the thought of
being alone, we’re likely to become needy and desperate, and we don’t
learn how to be emotionally self-sufficient.
Here are a few important points to keep in mind:
1. A relationship doesn't take away the fact that we will die.
That may sound romantic, but it’s not the healthiest way to form a bond.
Meet "Emily" and "Adam." Emily had hurled herself at Adam, pressuring him for a commitment before either was ready. She had been married before, in her late teens, mostly in an attempt to free herself from her parents’ reins. She had one daughter from that marriage, and the divorce was amicable; she and her first husband simply grew apart as they realized they married too young to truly know what they wanted in a relationship.
Emily was dating before the divorce was even final. She felt compelled to go out every weekend, thinking it a waste of time to spend any weekend nights home alone. After a few brief relationships that, according to her, "didn't pan out," she met Adam. There was a strong mutual attraction between them, and they began dating.
Emily made it clear to Adam right from the start that she wasn't interested in "just dating." She was looking for a long-term relationship. Never married before and slightly younger than Emily, Adam was a bit wary, but because he liked her so much, he didn't say anything, and the relationship progressed. Within a few months, Emily brought up marriage. At that point, Adam slammed on the brakes and expressed his concern about the pace at which they were moving. He told Emily he wasn't ready to become not only her husband, but a stepfather as well.
Devastated, Emily sank into depression, making it difficult for her to function at work or care for her daughter. Adam still cared for her, and asked if there was anything he could do to help. When Emily suggested they seek counseling together, he reluctantly agreed.
That's when they came to see me.
I quickly gathered that this was a relationship constructed on panic—not the strongest of foundations. I gave the couple my impressions, and suggested that before counseling could be of much benefit to them, we needed to deal with Emily’s fear of being alone. She'd never been without a man in her life, and seemed to have no sense of identity or purpose outside of a relationship.
Many current approaches to couples counseling involve teaching communication skills and other behavioral techniques. I make use of these approaches when appropriate. In Adam and Emily’s case, I thought such an approach would be premature. I was reminded of Irvin Yalom’s (link is external) book, Existential Psychotherapy, in which he writes about our common journey as human beings, and the realities—he calls them “existential concerns”—we all must face in order to be whole.
According to Yalom, one of these realities is "our fundamental isolation"—the fact that, despite our relationships with others, we die alone. Why is acknowledging this fact so crucial? In recognizing our aloneness, we learn not only the rewards of relationship, but also its limits. In effect, we learn what we cannot get from others.
Yalom writes:
"I believe that if we are able to acknowledge our isolated situations in existence and confront them with resoluteness, we will be able to turn lovingly toward others. If, on the other hand, we are overcome with dread before the abyss of loneliness, we will not reach out toward others but will flail at them in order not to drown in the sea of existence."
Source: mimagephotography/Shutterstock
Here are a few important points to keep in mind:
1. A relationship doesn't take away the fact that we will die.
Hidden benefit/healthy thought: The fact that we will die can help us appreciate more fully the time we share.2. A relationship doesn't protect us from bad things happening.
Hidden benefit/healthy thought: The strength we draw from each other can help us face adversity and cope with the bad things that do occur.3. A relationship cannot be our complete identity.
Hidden benefit/healthy thought: The fact that we’re loving, caring beings can be a large part of our identity.4. A relationship does not take away the need for personal responsibility.
Hidden benefit/healthy thought: We can help each other bear the burden of responsibility in a healthy, growth-affirming manner.Like Jerry Maguire, we want someone to complete us, and it's hard to admit that love can't give us everything. However, this is one of the paradoxes of life—by accepting the limits of what relationships can give us, we open ourselves to numerous possibilities.
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