When Love Isn't Good Enough

Perfectionists demand the perfect proof of their perfection. And their partners remain stuck wondering why no amount of validation seems to soothe them.

In a world colored by black-and-white thinking, divided by winners and losers, the lovable and the unloved, where good enough is a false consolation prize, the victors are the best and brightest. So, to feel secure, many perfectionists believe they need to be special to be important, the distinction of the two being lost on them. To illustrate an example: John is dating Annie, who attempts to reassure him of her devotion to him. She frequently tells him he's handsome, smart, and kind. In turn, John, keenly aware of all of the individuals who outshine him in those categories (forming an amalgamated, internalized image of the perfect man), tells Annie all of the reasons why he isn't any of those things, citing the individuals just noted. Annie responds that while there are people who are better-looking, smarter, and kinder than him, she is nevertheless sincere in her comments. John, feeling more insecure, tells her that she can't be because of her reply, effectively implying that she's either lying or misinformed.

This is a world where Annie can't win. If she lies and tells him he's perfect, he's easily able to disprove her; if she tells the truth, he won't believe she wouldn't leave him for someone better. To John, only special people are important, so he can't understand how Annie can love him and consider him to be important when he isn't special. In the end, Annie feels dejected. Like a child who demands ultimate security, John elicits in Annie, who resembles the mother of an inconsolable kid, a feeling of helplessness. His apparent requirement is too great for her, almost otherworldly.

In psychoanalytic thought, transference is the mechanism by which expectations and feelings from a significant relationship in the past (usually with a caregiver) are misplaced and rediscovered in a new but somehow similar person. In turn, countertransference is simply the interlocutor’s emotional and cognitive reactions to the manifestations of the transfer or another’s projections. Whereas in transference, feelings from the past are moved into the present, when projecting, the individual shifts one aspect of the present to another, specifically his disavowed self onto the other. In the above example, John may be projecting his own beliefs about himself onto Annie, failing to grasp, and believe, that she could hold a completely different perspective of him, even though she can't seem to prove it. He may also be transferring his feelings of disappointment and fear from a parent who wasn't able, and/or even willing, to comfort him as a child. And, Annie may feel exactly as that parent did.

So, Annie wonders what to do.

First, Annie could address the amount of pressure she's placing on herself to prove the unprovable. Realizing that John wants an almost mystical-like certainty, she can begin to consider why she believes it's her duty to provide it. She may ask herself: Can anyone give him what he needs? Partners of perfectionists tend to be perfectionists themselves, so they personalize their failures. Rather than acknowledging John's inability to tolerate uncertainty, Annie blames herself for being bad at arguing. It isn't John who keeps moving the goalpost; it's Annie who can't accommodate.

With respect to treatment, at times, our patients will hold cynical (and irrational) beliefs and place the burden of proof on the therapist, expecting them to create an air-tight case against their views, not acknowledging how their commitment to irrational thought precludes a successful rebuttal. Essentially, patients tend to get better when they feel ready to and don’t when they don’t. Although I frequently gave my own therapist much credit while in treatment, looking back, I realize that I deeply wanted to change. And mostly due to how poor my life was. Our patients, sometimes, want us to feel as helpless as they do, making sure that nothing we say matters, needing to blame us while at the same time expecting us to fix them in a circumscribed yet opaque manner.

John wants Annie to make him feel special, to unilaterally silence his inner critic. But, all Annie can do is attempt to make him feel important. And it's John's responsibility to accept that as good enough. Annie can't be more effective. When our partners struggle with uncertainty, we have to acknowledge that we can't provide them with concrete proof. In her dance with John, there is no winning argument. John would have to examine his beliefs about being loved and his longing for feeling completely safe in a realm with much inevitable uncertainty. When is love ever fully secure? And how could John be the only outlier who's plunged into an experience where he has both?

Our limitations, like a broken mirror, reflect back to us the reality that we aren’t special, but we’ve somehow confused that with being unimportant. Only the best will matter to the crowds, but you will always matter to those who love you. It all means little, however, if you can't accept it. The poet Rumi wrote, “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”