We gotta change how we talk about relationships

Right before COVID shut everything down, the first season of Love is Blind premiered on Netflix. If you don’t know, the premise of the show is simple: you date a whole bunch of people without ever seeing them, and then the couples that get engaged during the two-week dating process spend one month together back in reality before their wedding, during which they have to choose whether or not to follow through with getting married. To be honest, I never fully processed how ridiculous of a show it is until I typed this out. Anyway, there is this cast member that got engaged from this “social experiment,” let’s call him Matt. At one point, Matt introduces his fiancee, let's call her Amber, to his whole family. Enter Matt’s brother, who had been married for years. The brother plays the role of “I’m just trying to watch out for you” family member that is required for reality tv, and he essentially warns Matt not to rush into anything because relationships are really hard. It’s a classic line, I’ve heard it before. At the time, I didn’t really think much about it. Now, after being further into my relationship, I am starting to understand more of what he meant. He’s right, relationships can be really hard.

Savyon's "You said this would take 5 minutes" face

Over the course of the last three years with my partner, there have been moments where I’ve questioned my relationship and if it was going to work “long term.” Not because I myself questioned if I was happy, or if we worked well together, or if the relationship is what I wanted. I questioned my relationship because the perception I had of a healthy and long-lasting relationship didn’t match what I saw from inside my relationship. Supposedly, a healthy relationship is one where you want the same things from life, where any differences are handled with a perfect compromise drawn within the lines, and merging lives is essentially seamless. And above all else, a healthy relationship is easy. That isn’t what I have. We disagree on many things and are open about these disagreements (sometimes to the chagrin of our friends). We bicker - especially right after I’ve woken up from a nap or when Savyon is tired. We sometimes go a couple weeks where we’re a bit faster to react to each other, or feeling a bit raw. Sometimes we accidentally hurt each other. We process frequently - how something I did bothered her, how something she said rubbed me the wrong way. And in what I was made to believe, “healthy” or “perfect” relationships don’t have to spend this much time, or this much energy on cohabitation and finding harmony. They don’t have this much challenge. So I’ve wondered, is my relationship actually healthy? As if there is an objective sense of what is and is not a healthy relationship.

One of the first things in therapy that I had to address was how my consumption of film and media has caused me to romanticize relationships, and idealize what a healthy relationship is. Over time, however, I’ve realized that it isn’t just the media. It is also the people around me. It is like the second anyone I knew decided they were in a long-term partnership, or got married, a wall went up. And this wall was covered in wallpaper so elaborate that no one could see what was underneath. If the couple disagreed, it was behind the privacy of their wallpaper. If they went to a social event together, it was always smiles and positive vibes. From the outside, the wallpaper looked pristine, perfect, happy. Imperfections only become visible once the wall has literally started crumbling. By being around relationships that project absolute ease and happiness, I couldn’t help but doubt my own relationship.

Two important points are that 1) not all relationships have to be hard, and 2) different people define relationships differently. I acknowledge that some of the relationships with the pristine wallpaper truly are what they project, and there are so many great, healthy, strong relationships that are extremely difficult. I wish I had been told that healthy looks different for different people and an extremely easy relationship that your friend has doesn’t have to be what you strive for.

I remember a point last year when I started to focus on all the possible cracks that I saw in my relationship. Arguing seemed like a crack in our foundation. Being upset with each other. Having difficulty navigating our different needs and desires. Not wanting the exact same life. The fact that moving in together led to a couple months of really difficult calibration when all my friends made it seem like moving in with their partners for the first time was unequivocally great, seemed like a major crack in our foundation. I just could not get over all these cracks. Until my therapist asked, if I removed my perception of other relationships from the equation, do I feel unhappy, unstable, or uneasy in my relationship? The answer is no. I realized that it’s through handling and discussing and processing all of the differences, the disagreements, and the hard parts that actually make me feel extremely secure and grounded. Allowing ourselves to disagree means we are not forcefully molding ourselves to become each other, rather, we are coming together as two separate people to build a life together.

From my experience, I’ve heard the lines that partnerships are hard, and that you don’t always want the same thing, and compromise is important. But it always felt like that: “a set of lines” that are important to remember when the time comes, but not actually representative of genuine difficulties people were having. And, again, that’s because I feel like difficulties aren’t talked about enough.

My "I'm sorry for being annoying" hug

So allow me to state this clearly for anyone that needs to hear it - relationships can be very hard. Savyon and I had been dating for two years before we moved in together (six months of which were us living together during the peak of covid, having a great time). So we expected nothing less than a beautiful home full of love, laughter, and the smell of banana bread that we baked together and requires no clean up because this is a dream. In reality, moving in was so much harder. We had difficulties sharing a fridge and a pantry - Savyon came home from work one day looking forward to some chocolate and I had eaten it (oops); we couldn’t agree on who was responsible for eating the leftovers because we didn’t want to waste food but also, there are only so many days in a row I can have stir fry. I had spent my entire life eating dessert in bed, while Savyon hates finding peanut butter on the pillowcase. We had difficulties navigating our energy levels. Savyon came home after a long day and all she wanted was to talk and I was too exhausted to interact, but there was no one else around, so what do we do? (This is definitely still something we navigate). And this is just a list of some of the “lighter” challenges. (Savyon doesn't like pizza, which is a huge red flag.)

Even just communicating is hard sometimes. Communication is sooo hard. Savyon and I have very open, honest, and frequent communication, but still, I come from a family that speaks very loudly (to us, volume is not the same as tone) and she didn’t grow up with that. To her, loud feels like being yelled at. We’ve had to learn how to communicate, especially when we have feelings, which is basically always. Savyon prefers calm and collected disagreement because it allows for people to accurately and succinctly describe their feelings - I prefer faster and louder because it feels more emotive, expressive, and raw. Neither of us is right, and neither is wrong - because the goal isn’t to be right or wrong. But that doesn’t make it easier.

Six month ago, our friend Dani asked me if I was writing anything at the moment, and I commented that I was writing a blog about how relationships are hard because people don’t say it enough and I mentioned that moving in together was really had for me and Savyon.

Putting the mezuzah up on our first place together

Then the following conversation ensues:

Savyon: “What do you mean?”

Me: “What do you mean what do I mean?”

Savyon: “Moving in together wasn’t hard”

Me: “I’m confused. Did we not talk a few weeks ago about the few months after we moved in together were hard?”

Savyon: “I mean, we had a conversation about how those months were hard. We didn’t say it was because we moved in together.”

And this happens not infrequently.

Oftentimes I feel the reason people project an energy of perfection, or are defensive of any disagreements or perceived cracks within their relationship, is because of the evaluation that happens by those around them. We all seek external approval, we all want those close to us to approve of our partner and get along with our partner, and if you show cracks, if you show others that you’re struggling, not only may they not support your relationship, but it can also feel like they’re just waiting for that moment to say “I saw that coming” if you eventually break up. And I understand that maybe those aren’t the healthiest people to have in your life, but pretending like only some people do this just ignores the fact that almost all of us judge others' relationships to some degree. We’ve all seen people judge relationships, and we’ve all done it ourselves at some point.

What everyone else has described to me as being uniformly great, has indeed been great, but also extremely hard. It has been really wonderful, and over time, I have really grown to love it, but there is a shift in the framing of relationships that I not only find important, but necessary. Relationships should not be framed as the absolute end goal, as if once you are in a relationship, you cross a threshold into magical bliss. Firstly, this undermines those who are not or choose not to be in relationships. Yes, for many, the companionship of a relationship is nice, but a relationship is not the only way one can achieve companionship. Nor is it the only way to achieve physical and emotional intimacy. By framing relationships as such, it undermines the difficulty of being in a relationship. It undermines those in relationships who often need to work extremely hard to maintain them, and it undermines those who determine that the maintenance of a relationship is not worth the benefits that they see, and thus choose not to be in one - whether temporarily or for longer periods of time.

Savyon is my partner, and I’m extremely happy. I choose to be in this relationship. And being in a relationship is absolutely one of the hardest things I’ve had to do and will continue to do. Allowing my moodiness to influence someone else’s emotional state, and vice versa, is hard. Having to make decisions not only taking into consideration my needs and someone else’s needs, but also my casual preferences and someone else’s casual preferences is extremely hard. And there is so much that my relationship adds to my life, but pretending that the “right” relationship is meant only to add value, gives the wrong message. I have control issues, there is no relationship in this world that wouldn’t be difficult for me.

Don’t let social media posts of us smiling portray that we are always smiling (even though we do smile often), because even when it is the easiest thing in the world, being in a healthy relationship can simultaneously be so difficult. We have to change our approach to relationships. When your friend tells you about a disagreement they have with a partner, don’t categorize the partner forever as the enemy, or label the relationship as bad. Recognize the difficulty in relationships. Appreciate the ability for a relationship to grow stronger from difficulty. If you’re doubting your relationship because someone around you says it should be easy, only you know what is right for you. Your friend may be looking for something different out of their relationships. And if you ever need someone to validate the difficulties of a relationship, or talk candidly about it, my door is always open (metaphorically because summers in Atlanta are brutal and gotta keep the cold air inside)**.

**I wrote this when I was in Atlanta over the summer. It is now winter in San Francisco. The physical door still needing to be closed remains true.