A therapist’s perspective: Stuck between staying and leaving
Deciding whether to continue or end a romantic relationship is one of the most impactful decisions we can make, a decision that affects our longevity, quality of life, economic prospects and community. It’s no wonder such a momentous decision requires careful consideration, and is so often explored in therapy.
In contemporary society, freedom from the rigid norms and sanctions of previous generations means each of us is expected to establish, maintain and dissolve relationships according to our own needs, goals and desires. Accountability, instead of being distributed within a social network, becomes concentrated within individuals, leading us to feel immense pressure to justify our decisions. Such pressure often results in paralysing indecision.
How do we start to answer the question? A common tactic is to examine the relationship itself: its strengths and weaknesses, its economic, reproductive and emotional stakes, the parties—including children—that will be affected by the fallout. However, no matter how fair, accurate or reasonable the analysis, it rarely leads to a confident decision.
I find it helpful to unpack this question with clients. In an era where our choices define us and the default template for relationships is monogamy, our partnership becomes a reflection of our deepest self: our worth, judgement, values, happiness and safety.
It can be intensely uncomfortable to confront who we are, since until now, we have never really needed to question our choices or actions. Even this realisation leads immediately to a frightening conclusion: if we have never truly questioned our choices—if we have acted, all this time, out of habit, duty, fear of disapproval, or impulsiveness, while feeling utterly reasonable and in control—what does this mean about who we are?
When we ask whether a relationship is good for us, what we are really asking is: what do I deserve? This is an emotionally confronting question. Most of us learn from childhood what reactions to expect from our families and communities. By the time we seek help, we are acutely aware of what we ought to deserve, and over the course of our lives, have learned repeatedly to never step out of line and never ask for more than our allocated share. Unfortunately, such an existence is intolerable for most people.
The good news is that no matter how overwhelming these questions, the path ahead is clear. Our discomfort and decision paralysis are signs that the beliefs and values which have guided us all along can take us no further. Our disappointment does not mean that what we have chosen in the past was wrong or futile—only that difficult questions require more of us: more courage, more awareness, more compassion. In fact, the very existence of our symptoms is a sign that we are responding to the challenge, that we are no longer willing to shy away from complexity, that we are building upon who we once were.
The work of therapy is to guide this process: by avoiding paralysis, untangling difficult questions, and creating room to explore. While each of us may face such decisions only a few times in our lives, a therapist has the accumulated experience of witnessing and facilitating many such journeys, drawing from collective memory.
Difficult choices do not suddenly become easy, but when we can answer important questions about the life we’ve lived and hope for, we can at least choose from a place of honesty. When we find the words to articulate why we are making a decision, we grant a measure of peace and closure to ourselves and our loved ones. Whichever way we choose, we will have honoured our needs and wants without diminishing them, and gained the confidence to face difficult questions when they arise again.
Art by Karin Luts