I write about communications. I am not sure if there is any communication more complex, yet essential, than that of an intimate relationship. Finding a mate, falling in love, the whole happier ever after thing, is something that most of the people on the planet seek. Sure, there are few exceptions, but we are still talking in the billions.
My old gym is getting remodeled, so I started going to a new one, which is only a mile from my house, so I walk there and back. It gives me time to think. That can be a good thing and a bad thing. Yesterday, I had an epiphany moment, and it blew my mind. I don’t use the word “epiphany” lightly. Other than the obvious, like birth of children, loss of parents, I can only recall sharing a life-changing realization twice before – the first time I took anxiety medicine ten years ago, and when I updated the dosage about two years ago, And I stick to that. Life-changing. And now, it happened for the third time. I was so excited that I phoned a friend who helped me untangle it a bit further.
Unfortunately, as you will learn by the end of this, while my realization is deep and profound, it has not (yet) led me to any solutions. But realization, understanding, and self-awareness, give me somewhere to start.
I have failed at every intimate relationship I have ever had.
Somewhere between Church St. and High St., I realized why.
It is a little bit convoluted and has multiple interlocking parts, which might be why it took me a lifetime to figure out and why it will still be difficult to explain. So, stick with me here.
I have often suggested to myself and others that the breakdown is in communications. That’s not completely inaccurate, but it lacks the depth, complexity, and context that finally merged together in my brain. The three ingredients that conspire against me here are that I am empathic, conflict averse, and sensitive. When mixed together, and like a science experiment, only in an intimate relationship, they ignite a negative chemical reaction.
I’m empathetic. Almost off the charts. I took a personality test and empathy was my top strength in a field of 54 strengths. I remember when the facilitator of the course said that it may sound counterintuitive, but two empaths seldom make a good relationship together. Both people feeling what the other one was feeling. I get it. Words matter, so, to be clear, I am empathetic, not sympathetic. I can tell what people are feeling, I can feel what they are feeling. If I was sympathetic, I would care and show concern and support for what they are feeling. We can all do that to some degree. But I am average at best in that category.
I am also conflict averse. I will go out of my way to avoid a conflict in an intimate relationship. This is the person I love. I want them to love me. Conflicts are neither fun nor attractive. Enough conflict and things end. I get that’s not healthy. I’m not defending it. In fact, I am still processing it. The title says this is raw and unleashed, not polished and refined. I don’t like how conflict makes me feel. But like most things with me, it is more complicated than that. My whole life I have had this uncanny ability to find the precise words to cut another person to the core. My brain can spot their week point and attack it so fast that I am sometimes not conscious of it until it is too late. I have spent a lifetime taming that beast inside of me. I loathed who I was in my 30’s, still didn’t like myself in my 40’s, learned to tolerate myself in my 50’s, and only recently have begun to like myself. There is a perfect correlation between my feelings of self and my control of the beast. But he is still there. So, I avoid conflicts in an intimate relationship to try and protect the one I love, and selfishly so they will continue to love and want me. Again, I know that is not healthy, and it ultimately never works, but it is also only one part.
I will try to connect all of the dots before I am done.
The third part of this first section (yep, there is a whole second section), is that I am consumed with my own sensitivity. I have heard it can be hereditary. I have also heard that it can be linked to anxiety. If you believe in child order theory, it might also be connected to the fact that I was the fourth and youngest child (until I turned thirteen years old, and all my stuff was already formed). But I don’t want to make excuses. I have been working on that my whole life too. Sadly, it doesn’t take much. A slight hesitation or a sigh on her part. A tease, a jealous remark, it could me anything ever so slight and my sensitivity makes it about me and then I become defensive and shut down instead of exploring the option that it might not even be an insult.
So here is what happens when these three things collide. The beginning of relationships is such a beautiful thing. But there comes a day. There always comes the day, the moment, when my beloved says or does something that hurts my feelings. They don’t even have to make a clear declaration because I can feel what they are feeling. Then I get upset, but my judgment is cloudy because I get defensive, but I refuse to unleash the beast, or at the very least keep him in a tight leash. My sensitivity builds, but there is no avenue or mechanism for release. That is not sustainable. So either, my love pushes me to open up, or I try to communicate how I am feeling without causing a conflict. The outcomes have all been the same. Failure. High empathy + high conflict aversion + high sensitivity equals me being a difficult partner.
As an aside, if you wonder why I have been more successful in other types of relationships, I can explain for different reasons. I approach work with an ethic instilled by my Dad. You’re paid good money. Do what is right. Consequences be damned. I still had empathy. I still tried to tame the beast, but I was able to put my sensitivity aside because I cared more about doing good work than having these people like me. As a Dad myself, I win when I want to win and lose when I want to lose. I have virtually all the power, based lovingly on experience and judgment. No conflict. As for friends, I loosen the leash on the beast a little bit more. If they are going to be my friend, they need to take me as I am. I have several friends who truly like me, but also think I can be an asshole, and are happy to have time together and time away.
One would think, gee, Dan. If you have figured that much out, just work through those emotions in love. Try therapy. Maybe the right woman can help you. And maybe that would be true, but I have tried therapy a bunch and these compound elements are not the only obstacle.
There is more. The second section.
One of my past relationships suggested to me once that I want women that I cannot have. I rejected that then and I reject it still. It is true that I have felt the sting of unrequited love. I have fallen for a woman who was not free to fall for me. But at the same time, I have wanted all of the woman with whom I did share a relationship. And there were enough to refute that theory.
But I am so sensitive that the claim always stook with me. And as I was passing High St. and turning onto Chestnut St. yesterday, I still felt that the theory was wrong, but is felt right-adjacent. Close to something I could not uncover. After my workout I called a good friend who gave me the last pieces of the puzzle, which must have fallen out of my logic and onto the carpet.
“It’s like you say about work, Dan, you fear success.” When she said that, I was sitting on a bench outside my home, about ready to go inside to get Fiji for a walk. I was glad that I was not standing. Eureka!
A few examples from my work history. I turned down an opportunity to work for the White House Communication Agency in 1988-89. I turned down a job offer from Pfizer Pharmaceutical in 1996. I turned down an opportunity to travel with the Assistant Secretary of Defense in 2003. I have turned down several suggestions from colleagues to apply for the Senior Executive Service. Most recently, I simply published a book on my own, because I didn’t want to go through a hybrid publisher and risk dealing with speaking engagements and book signing tours. There are many more, big and small. I’m not a psychiatrist, but I think it all came down to another complex combination. I was concerned about sacrifices, I lacked ambition even if I couldn’t fully hide talent. I felt like success would only breed more success and when would it ever stop. I don’t mind failing at all. Both my resume and personal accomplishments prove that. Have you heard me sing? But with success upon success, I knew someday everyone would figure out that I am a fraud. I wish I could just explain to people that I am William Hurt’s character in Broadcast News, but who they should really want is Albert Brook’s character. Unfortunately, it seems like I am the only one who ever watched that movie, so the analogy doesn’t help.
I fear success in a relationship. Bring on the therapy that never worked again. I have been hurt deeply in some past relationships. Bring on the violins. Everyone gets hurt in love at some point. I don’t feel worthy. That felt both sad and brave to type. I had wonderful parents and a better childhood than the Brady Bunch. I can’t tell you where it came from. One could argue that, if I don’t fear failure, then I could keep trying. But here is the kicker – I have redeeming qualities. I don’t want to waste another woman’s time or hurt their feelings or give false hope. I would like to think I am kinder than that. Still, I am human, and another woman will try, possibly even one who reads this. And I will relent. I fear one day, we may even succeed.
So here, in all of its glory, is my epiphany:
I am a kind (at least try to be), sensitive (not in a good way), conflict-averse (weakness), empathetic (sometimes I wish I could turn that off) human (at least I have that going for me), with a fear of success (strange, but true).
It sounds better than it is.
I am still happy. If you know me at all, you can certainly understand that. I don’t need to list all of my blessings here, but they are plentiful, and I am humbled, and I thank God every day.
As for the elusive true love, I still have hope. Every decade has been better than the one before it. As I learn to love myself more, perhaps the tangled weave will unravel.
Stoneking Strategic Communications (SSC) 