What makes love ‘work’? That’s an elusive thing to answer without clichés so sentimental they’re almost meaningless. It’s tricky to pinpoint exactly what makes one relationship flourish and another resemble enemies/strangers living out some purgatorial sentence, but beyond the platitudes and insta-quotes, there’s a recurring truth in stories of love and friendships:
‘Good’ love replenishes. ‘Bad’ love drains.
Which raises the questions: why would we opt-in (and stay in) something that depletes us? And why is it so hard to walk away?
The answer is ‘honesty’. Because to leave, you have to face yourself. Face what is lacking, what it is you are trying to fill from the outside. And it’s this lack of self-knowledge and self-esteem that can tie you to people similarly unable to see, know, or love themselves well – and to believe you belong there. That low self-regard can lead to volatile places, because when you’re unable to value yourself, you can mistake aggression for passion, belittlement for normality, and criticism as deserved (AKA, ’negging’ – the gateway to gas-lighting). But not all destructive relationships are so clearcut and easy to identify. It’s often the more subtle nuances that are overlooked in the pairings you believe you can MAKE work. Particularly at the beginning when it’s assumed you’re looking in the same direction (when really you’re too busy looking at each other).
Getting swept up in that initial spark of conspiracy is par for the course in friendships and relationships, but that doesn’t make them destined to last. Nor should they all. Because beyond bad habits that can be improved, sometimes people will just have limits/desires that are incompatible with each other. Neither is wrong, they’re just not plausible together. And refusing to let go is where the damage begins. However well-intentioned both parties are – and however much they want it – their contortions to ‘fit’ can start to decimate each other. In friendships and love alike, it’s in nobody’s interest to ‘edit’ or re-shape another’s deepest design. Nothing is gained from stripping someone of what fundamentally is them. The fire will burn out regardless; your spirit and humour deflating with it.
There’s a very real grief in the dying of that promising light, but staying/returning will eventually compromise the very makeup of who you both are, what you believe in, and what makes you feel alive. To stay requires submission to a path where neither of you can be fulfilled. That’s the time to ‘call it’, but you will often refuse. You’ll bend, pull and persevere instead – chipping away at the bits of you (and the other) that don’t ‘suit’. This love requires the very essence of you to change shape; to sterilise or dilute the passions that feed you and drive you.
That isn’t ‘real’ love – it’s captivity. A tug of war. And as bittersweet as it may feel, its unavoidable expiration date is a liberation. You must remove the blinkers of all you wanted it to become to acknowledge when your eyes start turning to different horizons. Because if you can’t accept that some things just won’t work, the legacy of a ‘bad’ pairing can stay with you long after it ends – an invisible cord tugging you back to the myth of that exciting start, where potential seemed definite and endless. But the needs that brought you together – and the wounds subsequently incurred – are pointed at that person, that time, and not at yourself. Your own state of mind/ heart/ hurt at the time, ie; what led you there. What kept you there.
Sometimes the initial reaction to disillusionment is to batten down the hatches and keep everything at arm’s length; becoming aloof and unreadable. But that urge – to keep one foot on the floor and one eye on the door – can actually be an opportunity. Reframed, it can become less about fear and more about taking a moment to catch your breath and get honest. And when you eventually stop running for the hills, you’ll find ourselves more open; your sight and senses sharper, and in tune with who you actually are.
The other possible reaction – to throw yourself into anything/everything, hoping something will work – is unfortunately a magnet for the same painful lesson again and again. Blindly seeking the love you can’t give to yourself is essentially handing a ‘half-self’ over to another’s keeping. Asking them to carry you and appease you, and resenting or berating them when they can’t. And all that searching ‘out there’, means you miss what is ‘right here’: You.
Everyone needs someone capable of loving them back, but you can’t reciprocate if you’re unwilling to own and possess yourself. The groundwork for fulfilment is an ‘individual’ job. We’re responsible for our own care, even when we attempt to outsource or project it onto somebody else.
Seeking inwards for what invigorates us, and beginning to live it, is what realigns our course to happen-upon people who allow us to expand on and pursue what makes us feel alive. Chance encounters with that ‘something’ indefinable – an inexplicable pull whispering beneath sceptical caution or noisy fear. Try not to run from it, to intellectualise it away. And if you do, practice listening to that gut instinct so next time so you don’t flee a real connection. However scary or unfamiliar it seems, trust it will tell you what’s real, what’s worth having a go, worth allowing.
It will also tell you what has gone beyond repair and died of natural causes. In which case: grieve, but leave. Do not resuscitate, however tempting it may seem. While it’s necessary to negotiate on everyday circumstances or logistics, it’s never fruitful to compromise on who you fundamentally are – which can happen when you both sincerely ‘try to fix’ the relationship/friendship only to find its limits reconfirmed and immovable. It can’t change. You would have to.
Remember that ’good’ love will enable, not disable. It won’t drain you, nor will it fill you; you aren’t empty if you know your own resources. Instead, it adds something. It replenishes, recharges and invigorates what’s already there, making it resilient enough to hold on and keep the faith, while trusting another to do the same and to meet you back on the line. To ‘stand on’ when life inevitably jerks and stutters is to mind one another and cover each other’s blind spots. Good love is a sanctuary, not a hospital. Not a prison. That’s the difference.
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