I don’t want to make a big generalised sweeping statement (just kidding, you know I love those) but chances are if you’re a woman in her 30s who has been to therapy, had a traumatic breakup of some sort, and tried to do a lot of internal work, you’ve probably subscribed to the Gospel of Esther Perel.
When I was going to regular therapy, my psychologist got me onto Brené Brown and her talk on the power of vulnerability. For so long, and due to many things that happened in my teens, I had internalised the notion of being vulnerable. I was incredibly sensitive on the inside, but outwardly appeared as sarcastic, cynical, and deadpan. I’ve written about it in early editions of this newsletter, but I never wanted to appear vulnerable because I saw it as a weakness. I could hurt myself as much as anyone else could ever hurt me. My one longterm partner nicknamed me “the ice queen” at some stage in our relationship. I used to sometimes resent him for that but I also held a feeling of pride around it, as though it was something that gave me power. At some point, I also had to accept responsibility for what perception I was giving him of myself. If I outwardly appeared as though I couldn’t be hurt or show any vulnerability, why would he bother to understand all the ways that he could and did hurt me?
Jumping from Brené Brown to Esther Perel is basically a rite of passage for an adult woman navigating the dating pool. At some point last year I got super engrossed in Perel’s podcast ‘Where Should We Begin?’, where she counsels real-life couples through relationship issues in one-off therapy sessions. From marriage problems, to partners feeling neglected once children come along, to navigating open relationships, to single people who can’t seem to “settle” or find the “right person”, the podcast covers a myriad of topics that we all battle in everyday life.
In the words of Kylie Jenner, this week I’ve begun a big stage of realising stuff. I’ve had some deep chats with a few close friends about life in our 30s and where the fuck we’re all going. Some have laid-out plans. Some see our 30s as the last hurrah before we hit that bracket of becoming middle-aged and the younger generation takes over the feeling of importance we may have. Some talk houses, some talk travel, some talk kids, some talk about how they never want to stray from single life, some talk about how they’re realising their partners and themselves want different things and are navigating that. Some talk monogamy, some talk open relationships, some talk about marriages crumbling. We’re all going through it, even if it sometimes feels like we’re the only ones and everyone else has an enviable lifestyle or achieved exactly what they want.
We can all be so influenced by each other and what’s happening, whether it’s in a competitive form (that person has managed to buy a house, land a relationship, achieve a high salary, so therefore I have failed and must also try to achieve that), down to envying the lifestyle of those around us and what we don’t have. I spoke in the last edition of the grass always being greener on the other side. Regardless of whether we want to or not, a lot of us do constantly compare our lives or formulate a checklist to live by, and I think it can then shade our own perception of what brings happiness.
One of the things I’ve really realised recently (that I again touched on in the last newsletter) is that as an overthinker and someone who can jump about 10 steps ahead, I try to plan my life before it can happen. So this week I went for many walks, had many talks, and sat with the very uncomfortable feeling of trying to figure out what I want and what makes me happy — beyond societal expectations, and comparison to other people’s lives, and the feeling of FOMO, and the outward perception that people have of me as a person and what I could or should be achieving.
How do I feel and what do I really want? It shouldn’t be that hard. But I am unravelling years and years of people pleasing that have led me to distrust my own feelings. I have a really strong gut intuition for the most part but have been easily swayed by others’ opinions or lifestyles more than I care to admit. This week felt like an awakening of sorts to drop the comparison, drop the worry of what other people would think about what I choose to do with my life, and finally tap into what the fuck I want. Anyone who has also been raised a people-pleaser will know that when you’ve suppressed your own feelings and needs for years, it’s basically impossible to really trust what you want.
I realised I had been looking at life like it was one of the other, and not a balance of choices: it was city life vs. coastal life. It was career vs. family. It was relationship vs. kissing goodbye to the selfish feeling of independence. It was freedom vs. the perceived notion of feeling stifled in a white picket fence setup.
Logically, I know it doesn’t have to be one or the other, but in my head I’ve built it up to be because as millennial women it feels like we’ve been subjected to two big choices in our lives: powerful career woman or part-time worker/part-time mother/ full-time emotional load bearer. Obviously, many women manage to do it all, but the mental and emotional load of it is huge and it takes having a really committed, 50-50 partner to share that load with you. And sometimes it feels like a lot of millennial men aren’t ready to step up and actually do that, whether it’s by taking care of their own mental health, taking on domestic duties, or taking on the child-rearing at the same capacity. Most millennial women I know now have been down the therapy cycle to better themselves. So many millennial men I know don’t even consider this, or if they do, they have excuses as to why they don’t quite get there.
[Sidebar, I really strongly recommend Gina Rushton’s book The Most Important Job In The World for many reasons, but she has an excellent chapter on millennial men and the mental and emotional load.]
As a woman in her 30s, having kids naturally plays on my mind a lot now. When I think about whether I want a kid, the answer primarily is yes, but it’s filled with “buts”. Yes, I want a family but in the context of being with someone who would not only meet the (let’s be real, rather low) bar, but raise it. Yes, I see myself happy in a monogamous partnership with a kid or two, but I don’t want to resent it if I choose the wrong person. Yes, I want the feeling of guiding a child through life, but I fear the losing of myself and my romantic relationship along the way. And superficially, yes a child would be great, but I’m terrified to create all that havoc on my body. If the stork just wants to drop him down, that’d be great.
OK, I’m getting to the point: this morning, instead of doing any of my freelance jobs, I was back stalking Esther Perel looking for a nugget of wisdom and came across an episode she did with The Imperfects podcast and I really strongly recommend it to anyone, single or not, because it was a really eye-opening listen on relationships and modern dating culture.
In the episode, Esther touches on how the need for perfection in the modern dating era has inhibited us to make choices. She talks about how capitalism has entered romantic relationships and the paradox of choice has meant we’re constantly chasing an idea of perfection.
“We measure ourselves like products. We are constantly evaluating our ourselves. We discard, we replace, we exchange, we get a different one, a newer one, a younger one, a more pretty one. The pursuit of perfection which is directly tied to consumption has entered the way we handle relationships.”
Because we’ve grown up in a totally different way to our parents and general society expectations — stay together for the kids, divorce is shameful, the stigmatisation of single mums/parents — and because things like dating apps have given us so much choice at our fingertips, we’re prone to cancelling people and internalising our unachievable standards for others, and therefore ourselves.
The term “settling” has now been deemed negative. If we’re settling, we’re not out there achieving a higher standard, so we keep looking for the next best thing in the hopes that they’re the answer.
When we think we find that person, we have totally unrealistic expectations — e.g. I was single for 10 years, this person finally made me settle, and therefore they are perfect, my soulmate, the one who reigned me in. It can leave no room for accepting that person’s flaws and the fact that everyone will disappoint you: a partner, a friend, a family member. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: we’ve all set ourselves up for failure.
I myself, am so so guilty of the mentality of thinking settling is negative or in believing that I’ll find someone that ticks every single one of my boxes. I’m not necessarily a superficial person but I can easily develop irks or icks in the “getting to know you” process that will then cause me to cut it. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t ended things or had things ended with me at the first sign of things becoming “too hard” because both myself and the other person haven’t been able to communicate effectively. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t looked for obstacles or put people in the “too hard” basket, regardless of the potential connection. On the other hand, they’re clearly doing the same with me. I haven’t had anyone step forward in my life to rise to a challenge to make things work. I also have never fought for anyone. Thus, the cycle continues.
Then there’s the notion of the internal pressure we put on our partners: as humans, we seek validation and romantic connection and there are external factors for why we are drawn to people. Same interests and hobbies, same music or movie taste, physical attraction. But we have a whole plethora of internal reasonings going on in our heads that we may never communicate properly with our romantic partners: e.g. I chose him because he’s financially stable, I chose her because she’ll be a good mother, I chose him because he makes me feel secure, I chose her because she validates me. What happens when he loses his job? What happens if she can’t have biological children? What happens when either one goes through a period of bad mental health? Because we’ve boxed ourselves and our partners into fulfilling all of our desires, friction is undoubtedly going to rear its head.
The rest of the podcast is super interesting too, and I think people in relationships and people with kids or who want kids will find it helpful to listen to. I won’t recap because I’ve been rambling enough and I have real paid deadlines to hit, but Esther provides a lot of sound advice on how to deal with the notion of perfectionism in relationships and in modern dating culture.
Take a listen here.
Thanks for listening to my TED Talk!