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The Buddha taught that life includes suffering. The same is true for relationships. We think of loneliness as a condition that exists outside of relationship but sometimes we feel the loneliest inside an intimate relationship. That said, it is essential that we learn how to take care of ourselves, connect with our own heart, regardless of what’s happening within our partnership. It is our intimate relationship with ourselves, ultimately, that determines our wellbeing, and our compassion for our own experience that allows us to weather, with equanimity, the suffering that is part of every relationship.
Nina and Rochelle (names are changed) had been partners for 20 years and were married for three. The two women had two children together, one from a sperm donor that Rochelle carried, and another who was adopted from Russia. Their children were both under 10 and their adoptive child had a host of behavioral and learning challenges.
Nina came to see me because she felt lonely in the marriage. She found much of her wife’s behavior unlikable and had lost respect for her in many ways. Nina frequently experienced Rochelle as unkind, judgmental, and unsupportive. She felt disconnected and wasn’t feeling loving or loved. Nina longed for closeness and connection but had no idea how to create it.
The first question Nina asked me was whether I thought it was possible to live a full and spiritually rich life if she wasn’t being truthful in her primary relationship. When I asked what she meant by not being truthful, she explained that she wasn’t being honest about her experience of Rochelle or the relationship; she wasn’t sharing her loneliness, which was making her feel even more lonely. When she tried to talk about Rochelle or the marriage, her wife became defensive, aggressive, and angry, and blamed Nina for the disconnection she was feeling.
In an effort to keep the outward peace, Nina had become accustomed to smoothing over the painful moments with Rochelle, responding or behaving in a way that suggested everything was okay and maintained the status quo. Even though it didn’t feel truthful, she would remind herself that peace at home was what she wanted most and that she was choosing to stay in this marriage, lonely though it might be, because that was the wisest and best choice for now. And yet, Nina worried that this “smart” and “safe” way of living was shutting her down emotionally and blocking a deeper and richer experience of life.
I asked Nina why “choosing to stay in the marriage” was the wisest and best choice for now. She explained how she and Rochelle co-parented well and ran what was, for the most part, a happy family. She described cherishing the foursome, the family unit, even if there were real issues within the couple. She appreciated how they helped each other with the tasks that modern life and parenting demanded, how Rochelle kept the house and often watched the kids, which made it possible for Nina to pursue her many interests and travel whenever she desired. She was grateful for Rochelle and sometimes enjoyed her company as a friend. And, Nina added that she had come from a painfully broken home, had no siblings, and both her parents were gone. So, while she had close friends, she had no direct family other than Rochelle and her children.
What had first appeared as a black and white head-heart battle (the head wanting to stay, the heart needing to go) was now washed in grey. Nina’s mind was not, as she had originally presented, disconnected from her heart. Rather, her mind, in all its rationality, was also trying to take care of her heart, and specifically, her heart’s desire for an intact family.
Nina longed to feel heart-connected, known and loved within her marriage. And, she longed for a family of four, with safe ground, stability, and support. The two longings seemed to contradict, or at least not be simultaneously possible. Until now, she had chosen the stability of the family as her highest priority, but this required a disconnection from her wife and her own heart. Loneliness was the result, which had been rationally weathered until now, but the system was crumbling.
Nina acknowledged that she wasn’t living truthfully within the relationship, that it wasn’t an intimate marriage. But what she hadn’t realized was that she wasn’t living truthfully within herself; she didn’t have an intimate relationship with herself.
Nina, like many people, felt overwhelmed and anxious when negative feelings about her relationship arose, when what she wanted or thought should be true was in conflict with what was true. The emotional discomfort sent her into a tsunami of thoughts on what she needed to do about the situation: “If I feel this bad then I have to leave, How am I going to do this? What about the kids? Where will I live? Who will drop them at school? What do I do to make her change?” and on and on...This inner dialogue then intensified her anxiety and made her feel more paralyzed, more inclined to do whatever it took to keep the status quo. In the game of emotion, anxiety trumped loneliness.
Nina and I had work to do, to unpack her experience in the relationship with her wife and also her family of origin, where she first learned about intimate relationships. But first I wanted Nina to consider building a new relationship with herself and learn a kinder way of responding to her own uncomfortable feelings. In service to that new relationship, I offered her two skills, which I hoped would help her right where she was. These skills were not and are never meant to bypass or be a substitute for the work that relationship requires, and not designed to avoid making needed changes, which might include leaving. I also reassured her that a connection with her own heart would not, inevitably, lead to her having to give up her marriage, and probably would benefit the relationship in ways she could not yet imagine.
2 steps to connection in relationships
Step 1
When challenging feelings arise, deliberately move your attention from the head down into your body, particularly the heart and lower belly. Pause to notice, and feel, where, how, and in what way the emotional content of the moment is manifesting in your body. And here’s the most important part: allow whatever is happening to happen; drop any resistance to your felt experience. Simply let your body do what it’s doing, without judging, trying to change it or figuring it out.
Paying attention to your direct experience in the body, without resistance, is transformational; it allows you to feel your truth, separate from your story about the truth. The practice of visiting the body, with kindness and curiosity, and letting be what you discover, is paramount in the healing process.
Step 2
Physically place a hand on your heart, and silently offer yourself the words: “Sweetheart (or any kind name you choose), I’m so sorry this is happening, that you’re experiencing this,” “This really hurts,” “Ouch” (or any other words that feel loving and acknowledging of your experience). The act of paying attention to our bodily sensations followed by actively self-parenting, through spoken inner words, provides an immediate dose of compassion and presence, which acts as a profound antidote to loneliness.
When you’re able to practice these two skills, consistently, your experience of yourself and your life changes. You become a safe place for you to reside, a home base in the midst of whatever’s happening within the relationship. In so doing, you create a steadier wholeness, which may not remove your craving for a particular experience with your partner, but it’s not needed in the same way. Not, that is, to create your inner well-being or completeness. Your external situation can remain conflicted and you can still be fundamentally okay. You can’t always choose whether you will be lonely inside the relationship, but you can choose whether you have to be lonely inside yourself.
