The quantum superposition of breaking up
And why self-love is essential for lasting relationships
Exactly one year ago, I was still trying to salvage a marriage at an 8.401 km distance. I remember the 45-minute walks from my Airbnb in Haight-Ashbury to the office on Market Street while “doing the work” on the phone at a 9-hour time difference. I remember smiling; I remember crying; I remember feeling hopeful; I remember feeling hopeless. We had stopped going to couples therapy, and I think I was reluctantly starting to acknowledge where things were going.
The physical metaphor of walking downhill while having these conversations didn’t escape me. Equally, walking back uphill alone in the evening while Europe was asleep. Trying to figure out what life being just me, would look like. I remember stopping to take photos that would remind me of this time. That mixed feeling of being lost and free at the same time. Staying in California meant that I was a husband until 2 pm, and then just me for the rest of the day until I went to bed when it got to morning back in Norway.
One year ago, I wrote The hindsight at the end of the tunnel, describing how coming out of depression means dealing with the relationships you struggled to maintain and the many opportunities you lost. Now, I’m out of the tunnel, with even more hindsight.
And what I see is this: A year ago, I was simultaneously figuring out two seemingly conflicting things:
How to heal the wounds I and my mental illness had inflicted on my marriage to save it
How to exist outside of the relationship that very much had defined me for most of my adult life.
I chose to take the role of the hopeful one; I tried to listen without getting defensive, validate the frustrations, and be consistent. I did not allow myself to express doubt in these conversations. I nurtured this unwavering belief that our relationship would persist if we worked through the problems. And that it would be worth it. It would pay off.
I think part of me thought and believed this, but I was also afraid of what it meant if we had to let it go. In hindsight, it created more space because I couldn’t acknowledge what my ex-partner was trying to communicate. For her, it seemed like the cat was dead, while for me, the cat was definitively still alive. But none of us had dared to open the box yet.
The paradox of self-love
I had obsessed with how my partner felt and tried to navigate all the large and small triggers daily. Of course, it could never work because this existence was draining (for us both!), and it fell through once I had a bad day and wasn’t aware of my state. And then it was back to zero. We were stuck. We figured out that we needed to break this everyday cycle, and a good way to do so was for me to get out of the house for extended periods. I could use the opportunity to reconnect with family and friends and get space to work on myself (spoiler: it worked).
I think my partner understood that she needed to be with someone who loved themselves. And I wasn’t. I was afraid to listen to and prioritize my needs because I thought it expressed disengagement. Despite my partner never asking this self-sacrifice of me, she tried so often to do the opposite. But I lacked the meta-understanding to take this input as anything other than critique. So she ended up being responsible for the emotional state of us both. It was a vicious cycle.
I think I had been caught by the narrative that I suspect many, especially men, have grown into: Love is ultimately about self-sacrifice. And prioritizing your own needs is selfish. For example, I used this narrative to justify why I worked so much, to earn and provide (and I know many others have done so). And so many times, I ignored what my body was trying to tell me, and I chose to join my partner in her activities without being able to be present. But instead, being disengaged and motivated. And when she found this frustrating, which in retrospect is very understandable, I got defensive because I felt I was giving up my time to be with her. Of course, I didn’t dare admit this to myself or her then.
One year ago, I started to appreciate and acknowledge the role of self-love. And I needed to nurture it regardless of where my marriage was going. It was equally important if it was going to last or not. I think investing time in learning to love myself helped me let go when it was time. And it let me feel sad and mourn my past relationship while being excited and curious about what was ahead.
Little did I know that nurturing self-love was precisely the thing that allowed me to seek romantic love again.
There might be many ways to exist and be happy in romantic relationships. But I’m confident that you’ll find practicing self-love crucial for many of them. Some are lucky and are brought up to do so. Some of us have to discover it the harder way by going through a crisis, doing therapy, or‚ maybe, learning from the experiences of others.
If you are in a relationship, how do you allow for prioritizing self-love for yourself and your partner(s)? What are your favorite ways of practicing self-love? Has it changed for you? And are there things you have thought of doing for yourself that you haven’t dared to do? Feel free to use the comment section or reply to me by email.