Menage a Trois

OUR ADDICTION TO THIRDS

In some forms of psychotherapy, it is understood that there are three presences in the room.  First, there is the client, whose experience in vitro is informed by their subjective lives and the complex ways in which they consciously or unconsciously perceive the therapist (i.e. transference). The second part of this dyad involves the therapist, their subjective lives, and their counter-transference toward the patient.

But within the tug-and-pull of all therapeutic relationships, there is also an objective presence, existing beyond the personal thoughts and emotions of each participant, and yet born of such. In essence, it is what’s actually going on in the room. The goal of the therapist is to first observe then bring this objective to light, as a means of surfacing any latent fears, anxieties, and fantasies held by the client.

In a similar fashion, I conceptualize any relationship, including romantic ones, as having not only a dyad, but also a third party which requires both attention (awareness) and intention (action). Through this process, we can further introspect and refine our individual selves.

Without this process, we risk total engulfment of the self by this force, drowning in the overwhelming tides of the relationship. Conversely, we may over-exert our control and dominance—and in doing so, destroy the relationship itself.

To lose and surrender myself to the totality of this entity was my own personal fear. There have been times during which I felt an unsettling claustrophobia, trapped within the confines of what felt like prescribed parameters.

In the most nascent stages of my relationship with Peter, my behavior could be depicted as a ‘false self,’ a term psychoanalyst David Winnicott used to describe those who struggle, from childhood, to show up as their most authentic (’true’) selves; born of hostile environments, it is fundamentally a misalignment between behavior and their core values, feelings, and desires.

As a result, I was constantly asking myself several questions. Am I showing up as my most authentic self? How do I not lose myself in the relationship? Am I showing up as my partner expects of me (or rather, what I think they expect of me)? Am I showing up for myself? For the relationship?

The specter of this fear continues to linger, and some days it can still feel like a tsunami of overwhelm. Though, by continual and consistent efforts, Peter and I have been able to allay this discomfort—through clarity of our goals (mutual and individual), and introspecting how the relationship serves each of us.

In the span of a month, we dedicate specific weekends to items most important to us and our relationship: finances, life and home maintenance, individual endeavors, and RADAR (more on this later). And while these big ticket items each have a dedicated weekend, we are mindful to engage in all elements every day of the week.

Designed initially to delegate and mitigate risks in the tech and corporate worlds, RADAR is a methodical breakdown of major topics that require discussion (sore or even avoidant points for most people) that can be adapted to relationships.

The first R stands for review, wherein the participants look over the major events, both highs and lows, since the last check-in. The A stands for agreeing on an agenda, or simply agreeing on a number of things to discuss: quality time, intimacy, health, fights/arguments, other partners (if applicable), money, projects, work, travel, family, household. We go through this comprehensive list even if there may be nothing apparent to discuss.

The D stands for discussion which is self-explanatory. The next A stands for action points—where and how can we take actionable steps to correct past or ongoing issues? Finally, the R stands for re-connect: ending the exercise on a positive note! We usually do RADAR while en route to somewhere fun, so this last R builds itself in conveniently.

RADAR is important to us because both Peter and I are highly dynamic—that is, we are constantly seeking ways to grow and learn. This is a very structured process of reflecting on whether we are moving in the right direction, as individuals and as a couple.

It is the guardrails within which we explore our genuine thoughts and feelings, without fear of misdirection or crash. Needless to say, this exercise in combination with Peter’s willingness to meet me halfway (or 70% of the way some days), has been instrumental to my own internal growth.

Perhaps the most important takeaway for us is that every element in our lives, even those forces invisible to us, is dynamic. What was once tsunamis of overwhelm are slowly morphing into small trickles, giving way to blossom.

Through hard work everyday, we inject the relationship with sustenance. And with each hopeful step, we lay a more solid, more malleable foundation for happiness together.

And for anyone wondering: as a psychiatrist, I never attempt the folly of analyzing my partner; I don’t work for free.

XOXO,

Howard and Peter