Balancing Novelty and Comfort in Romantic Relationships

We expect a lot from our partners. On the one hand, we develop relationships based on love and romance. We yearn for attraction, excitement, a spark. On the other hand, when we’re forging lifelong partnerships, we also seek stability, reliability, and a predictable, comfortable status quo with a lot of emotional safety. 

Naturally, different people prioritize different aspects of partnership. Some people are perfectly happy to sacrifice the thrill of the crush for the solidity of companionship. Others would rather focus on the magic spark. But most of us want a measure of each. 

It’s natural for human beings to seek both novelty and reliability, excitement and comfort. But it’s quite a balancing act in a long-term relationship. Consider: the thrill of the crush comes in part from multiple uncertainties, including “do they like me, or not?” But the comfort of a best friend comes from the abiding certainty of their lasting affection. How can our partners be both thrilling crushes and trusted friends? 

Part of the puzzle is simply the recognition that the early, head-over-heels infatuation phase of any romantic relationship must come to an end at some point. As magical as this phase is, we need to return to equilibrium at some point, if for no other reason, so we can get some sleep and accomplish some things that fell by the wayside while we fell in love.

The early phase of relationship includes focusing on ways in which we are similar, and stretching to be more alike. Together we create a sense of similarity and high regard that, ideally, can be the foundation for a lifelong relationship. It is also healthy for it to pass, and to give way to acknowledging our differences, reconnecting with ourselves and our individuality, and noticing there are things about our partner we don’t like.

It is easy to focus on the down side of differentiation, because as we notice and acknowledge our differences, we often disagree. This transition can be rough, and often includes significant disillusionment. But consider this: desire requires difference. 

If the romantic spark is fading in your relationship, or perhaps faded a long time ago, ask yourself if you might be overly emotionally entangled, or a little too safe, predictable, or known. 

In the right circumstances, asserting difference can be a powerful aphrodisiac. It allows partners to see each other in a new light, and desire one another anew. 

Every individual in every relationship has to find their own way to address this challenge. Here are a few ideas:

  • Have new conversations. Turn off devices and learn something new about one another over dinner or breakfast. I love Vertellis cards for this, but if you’re great at curious, creative, thought-inspiring questions, you don’t need any prompts. Not matter how long you’ve known one another, you don’t know all there is to know. Get creative, go deeper, and discover your ever-changing partner.
  • Do new things. Turn off devices and create some memories. What sounds like fun? Start with a brainstorming list of at least 30 ideas of things that sound like fun to one or the other of you; you don’t have to agree, just brainstorm. Try to include things that take a few minutes, as well as some that take a couple of weeks. Include things that don’t cost anything, as well as big ticket items. 
  • Read a book together. Ideally, this would be about something that interests both of you. Organic farming? International travel? Lifestyle choices? Get inspired, and learn something together.
  • In the same vein, take a class together.
  • Look for the spark within yourself, and then share that with your partner. We have a weird cultural belief that we need other people to light us up, turn us on, excite us. While other people and deep connections can certainly be amazing, you also have the capacity to light yourself up. Have you lost your own connection with excitement, fun, play, novelty, or pleasure? Ask yourself: “What do I do to light myself up?” and start doing it!

How to Understand the Stories That Shape Our Lives

We make sense of reality by means of story. It’s human nature. And the stories we tell ourselves deeply shape our lives. They determine how we see ourselves in relation to others and how we connect our disparate experiences into an overarching narrative.

There’s a term that therapists like to use: “making meaning.” It refers to the process by which we take our experiences and transform them into a narrative. Maybe you’ve noticed how two people can see the same situation in completely different ways. Have you ever had the experience of saying something you think is innocuous, only to have a friend interpret it as a veiled accusation or an attempted guilt-trip? Or the reverse—taken an innocent comment by a friend as a slight?

This is a result of “making meaning.” We are engaged in an ongoing, never-ending process of making educated guesses about what is going on in our lives—based on intuition, which is based on past experiences, which leads to making assumptions—about other people’s intentions and perceptions. And sometimes we may not even be aware of the assumptions we’re making—which can lead into some pretty messy territory!

Sometimes the narratives we tell ourselves can get in the way of our happiness. Have you ever had a running narrative in your head to the tune of “Nothing I do is quite good enough” or “Everybody is trying to hide something from me,” or “I’m always running behind, and if I stop working for second, everything will fall apart” or “Nobody will ever love me, because I’m too (insert negative self-judgement here)”? I think everyone has a few of these broken records playing in the back of their heads from time to time. Can you identify what yours sound like? Can you think of moments they’ve shaped how you interpret a situation?

It’s all too common for these kinds of harmful narratives to get in the way of our relationships. If you’re primed by your running narrative to think that people find you disappointing, for instance, consider how much damage could come from living through that narrative in your closest relationship—and consider the relief that could come from recognizing the narrative, checking your assumptions, and discovering that the reality of the situation is much less all-or-nothing.

Checking our assumptions is an essential relationship skill, and getting to a point where this can be a stress-free aspect of conversations with our partners will prevent or remedy a lot of suffering. If we want to avoid being controlled by narratives that may not be accurate, we need to ask nuanced questions and really listen to the answers. We also might benefit from honing our ability to bravely share the fears and vulnerabilities that underlie the assumptions we make. Here are some steps:

  1. Pause. The best thing to do in a charged moment is the exact opposite of what you instinctively want to do. Instead of charging forward with your anger, defensiveness, or anxiety, pause. You have plenty of time to address what’s going on. There’s no hurry. Breathe. Notice what you’re feeling, in body and mind.
  2. Identify our narrative themes. What fears return to you again and again? When you feel anxious, lonely, angry, or sad, what stories run through your mind? Can you think of times you have interpreted a perhaps innocuous situation negatively, and can you identify what you were thinking at the time? Once you identify your narratives, they become less automatic. You can start to set them apart from your immediate experience, notice them, and question them.
  3. Reframe the situation. Describe what you’re noticing, as neutrally as possible. Don’t catastrophize or draw connections to the past. Notice the assumptions you’re making, and make an effort to think of at least one or two alternative explanations. “My partner pointed out the dishes in the sink. This set off a narrative in my head that they’re mad at me, and I’m a big disappointment to them, but another possibility is that they are reminding me that the dishes are not yet done and people are coming over for dinner later, and is true that I agreed to do the dishes; it might not be coming from a critical place, it might be coming from a helpful place. Or maybe they are looking for a way to re-open the discussion of who should do the dishes. Or maybe they are not really thinking, and it was an expression of their own mood, not really anything about me at all.”
  4. Check your assumptions with your partner. Once you’ve paused, identified your narrative, and reframed the situation, you may already feel better. But if you’re feeling unsettled, it’s a good idea to check in with your partner. You might say something like, “Darling, what you said just now brought up some feelings for me; what did you actually mean when you said it?” Or perhaps, “What’s going on for you right now about (fill in the blank with the current topic)?” You’re likely to find that the situation is much more nuanced and less negative than you may have assumed, and your partner may be able to provide you with a fresh understanding of the experience. Even if it turns out your partner was criticizing you, at least you can have a reality-based conversation about it rather than relying on assumptions and mind-reading.

It’s important to remember that the goal of this process is to check your negative assumptions, not to avoid meaning-making altogether. At the end of the day, meaning-making is pretty unavoidable—and it’s not a bad thing. Meaning-making is also how we find joy, fulfillment, and compassion in our lives. It also helps us avoid potentially dangerous or difficult situations. However, if we can reframe our negative narratives, we can open up doors to better ones—ones that allow us to view ourselves and our partners with more compassion, appreciate the the joys of everyday existence, and see ourselves as participants in the scheme of life. Our narratives quite literally give our lives meaning. Shape them with care.

Overseeing the End of a Relationship as a Couples’ Therapist

As a relationship therapist, I know I have a few beliefs that are a bit controversial for my field. One of those beliefs is this: the end of the relationship can be a perfectly good resolution to a couples’ therapy.

Let’s say that, after a long and complicated therapy, the partners look at each other and decide that the relationship is over. This is a painful result for both partners and often also for the therapist, but that doesn’t mean it’s a failure.

Consider the goal of increased differentiation of self. Here are the 3 parts:

  • Become able to look inside yourself and identify what you think, feel, prefer, and desire.
  • Develop the skill of holding steady while communicating those thoughts, feelings, etc. to your partner.
  • Develop the skill of holding steady when your partner communicates to you about their feelings and desires…even when you are uncomfortable with what they are saying.

I truly believe that, in order to be happy, live fulfilling lives, and build strong, stable relationships, we all need to continue to develop this skillset. This is the road to congruence, or the experience of having your internal reality (that of feelings and desires) match your external reality (that of actions and words). Without congruence, you can’t have a strong, stable relationship. And without differentiation of self, congruence is just an idea.

Imagine this: a couple in therapy is working toward the three aspects of differentiation of self. They are getting to know themselves and one another more deeply and authentically than ever before. They are discussing the hard truths—the secrets, the unacknowledged differences, the difficult emotions. It’s a beautiful thing to be a part of this process, and most often the experience of seeing one another through new eyes offers fresh energy or even a complete rebirth for the  relationship.

However, sometimes this process results in a realization of incompatibility. What then?

In my experience, people then decide to stay together despite the incompatibility, for any number of reasons, or they decide to end the relationship and go their separate ways.

In either case, I strongly believe that the deeper goal of knowing oneself and showing up authentically in relationship is more important than exactly what happens with the relationship outcome.

I love to help my clients get to the point where they have the clear eyes, the self-knowledge, and the understanding of one another to make the right decision for themselves–even if that decision is to end the relationship.

When partners decide to split up, that doesn’t necessarily mean the relationship therapy is over. The process of disentangling a life together—including shared finances, property, friends, community, and children—is complicated, and can be fraught and painful. A relationship therapist can be a wonderful resource to help facilitate stronger communication and better agreements throughout the transition.