How to Overcome Feeling Like Sharing Personal Space Means Personal Loss

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Bobby's girlfriend, Lara, suggested that they live together before deciding whether to get married. The thought had occurred to Bobby, but he'd never brought it up. However, when Lara did, he shocked himself – and her – by dismissing the idea as impossible.

"I'm such a hermit, baby," he mumbled, which was untrue.

Lara, who was hurt and bewildered, packed up some dresses that she'd left in his closet and left without finishing dinner.

Bobby, alarmed at how he'd hurt her, could only stammer that he'd think about it...and then he came to see me. His question, which seemed fundamental to the relationship, was whether he didn't really love Lara or whether something else was keeping him from sharing space with her.

"I shouldn't have been so cavalier, but now I need to know why I was."

The two had been seeing each other for almost two years, and they seemed to have bonded.

"When I had the flu, she'd stop by to see me. When I was changing jobs, she talked me through it." He described someone who was caring, generous, and exerted herself on behalf of the relationship. He also said she was fun and attractive.

So, I suspected that while he may not have loved her deeply, he thought perhaps he could if they seriously investigated their feelings. The fact that he was nonetheless unable to try led me to believe that he was uncomfortable with the idea of sharing his personal space. That is, the question seemed more about him – his needs, his fears – than about how much the two of them cared about each other.

If we could figure out why Bobby was resistant, we could help him confront what was holding him back. Wellness, and the personal growth on which it depends, often require that we remove psychological obstacles that prevent us from seeking happiness.

In Bobby's case, the goal was not so much to enable him to live with Lara – though that might be an outcome – so much as it was to help him understand why he resented anyone's coming physically near him for any lengthy period. Bobby had no trouble becoming emotionally close; he and Lara had a good relationship, and he'd had other serious girlfriends. The problem was more about physical space, the "hermit" feeling he'd joked about, but that seemed a little too real.

Bobby, I thought, was struggling with this dilemma: personal space means personal loss. It prevented him from settling down with Lara and forced him into willed isolation that he didn't understand.

"I really don't want to be alone," he said, "but I can't imagine finding someone there every day."

The fact that Lara was "someone," rather than the woman whom he might marry was a chilling reminder of Bobby's failure to discriminate between strangers and intimates insofar as they might occupy his space. What was it about intimates that scared him, which kept him from accommodating their needs in surroundings that usually intimates share?

Almost by definition, wellness is the ability to act within norms, to follow accepted modes of behavior so that people know what to expect and feel comfortable around us. It is the ability to avoid shocking people – and putting them at a distance – by behaving in ways that seem self-involved, outside what people consider normal.

As Bobby and I talked, it became clear what bothered him about sharing a space with intimates. When he was growing up, his older brother, Eric, declared that Bobby's bedroom also served as a gym. Eric installed a second-hand weight machine and free weights that the YMCA had sold off when it moved downtown. He hung a chart on the wall that displayed maneuvers that weightlifters used to enhance their performance.

On the shelf that held Bobby's books, a 10-pound container of Muscle Milk powder appeared.

"I mean, he just took over," Bobby said. "I wasn't big enough to use those weights even if I'd wanted to, and Muscle Milk is revolting."

Bobby's brother used the room when Bobby was outside but, as Bobby said, "I had no room to turn around when I was there. He dominated."

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Bobby complained to his parents, but they seemed detached. They told Bobby and his brother just to work things out.

"I wanted to work it out by breaking Eric's head with a barbell, which of course, I couldn't even lift." He resented Eric's ease in assuming that he could just take over.

It was like Bobby had been demoted, rendered powerless over what had been his.

"When I yelled at Eric, he laughed. I felt so ineffectual."

He explained that what got to Bobby was that once another person moved in, no attempt at negotiation seemed possible. It was an invasion – a long-term occupying take-over rather than an excusable, momentary intrusion. He saw no way around it.

Bobby had to endure Eric's bodybuilding for three years, after which Eric decamped for college (where he was a champion wrestler and sent snarky thank-you notes to Bobby every time he won a match).

The family finally sold Eric's equipment (Eric kept the profit), but Bobby half-expected barbells to come marching through the door every day, demanding their rights to sit on the floor, cluttering his space.

"Sometimes, it felt hallucinogenic. I mean, it stayed with me." He sublimated his anger into exercises of retaking control. "I fed the leftover Muscle Milk to the pigeons in the park. I thought if they started clearing away old bagels, then maybe that stuff would have done some good."

Bobby did not get over Eric easily.

Bobby is older now, but he hasn't outgrown his experience with Eric, his parents, and his grandmother. It's become fundamental, part of how he presents to the world. Even at the office now, he sits at his desk with headphones to block out the chatter, and he keeps a sign on his cubicle wall that says, "Don't just assume that you're welcome." Everyone laughs and says That's Just Bobby (he told me not long ago), but he knows that the sign is more than a little edgy. He'll often sit with his colleagues at lunch, but they don't always just sit with him. It's part of a much larger pattern.

The point is, what could he do to break the pattern – which was so deeply ingrained – when it came to living with Lara? How could he feel safe around someone who was always there? It was an issue of personal growth that, one hoped, might lead to wellness.

I started by explaining to Bobby that sharing space with someone you care about was not necessarily a loss of personal integrity. Presumably, this person reciprocates your feelings and, hence, cares about your integrity. Their interest is in sharing, not taking.

But I also said that it would be helpful to talk with Lara about his fears in Bobby's specific case. The idea was not to make her self-conscious so that she tip-toed around but only to sensitize her to why, perhaps unintentionally, he might suddenly bridle at some noise or even an uncapped tube of toothpaste.

Aesthetic intrusions can frequently set people off, providing visible evidence that their world is being sullied. I was sure that Lara, who had shown such concern for Bobby, would talk with him honestly and help him navigate what a potentially scary experience for him was.

I also felt that some exposure therapy would be helpful. That's when people who are frightened of an experience, like flying or speaking in public, are exposed to it long enough to see that's it's not so awful after all. If Lara moved in for a week or two, on the understanding that it was a try-out, Bobby could get accustomed to having her around.

They could develop routines, shared ways of allocating their time and the space that they lived in. After a while, it might seem natural. Ideally, Bobby would get to like it and begin – unencumbered by fear – to rationally consider whether he and Lara should live together on a more long-term, open-ended basis.

Finally, I impressed Bobby that personal growth need not be lonely. The people who care about us can help, especially when the journey concerns our relationship with them. Of course, it won't be easy. The process requires creativity and adaptability. But if Bobby believes that pursuing his relationship with Lara will lead to his happiness, he will act to further his objective. He will see it as in his self-interest.

However, Bobby will need to work consciously since his instinctive responses may pull in the opposite direction. Eventually, he won't need to think as much. Time is on his side.