It’s two days after Valentine’s Day, which means that we are still recovering from a digital blitz of couple photos that engulfed our feeds alongside heartfelt captions about love, luck and destined life partnership. While I see absolutely nothing wrong with this collective proclamation of love (in, fact, I live for my partner’s annual appreciation post!), it also proliferates a public idealization of romantic relationships that doesn’t feel aligned with our current penchant for “transparency.” While other arenas, such as our fertility journeys, our relationships with our bodies, even our mental health struggles, have been opened up for discussion in the digital space, it appears that relationships are still shielded with privacy and presented with a gloss, a sheen of so-called “perfection,” an Instagram filter, if you may.
This is not all that surprising, given that a–lamenting about your domestic disputes means exposing another human, and b–we are all wary of public judgment and the toxic force that is a rumor mill, be it digital or otherwise. I myself am very much complicit in this. While my real life is filled with regular household turmoil, a glance at my Instagram page reveals very little other than amateur beach photo shoots and happy birthday witticisms. As an example, let’s the photo below, which was taken in the aftermath of a rather brutal fight, triggered by a few minute factors that had somehow cannonballed into an onslaught of grave mutual accusations. I had been crying a mere few minutes earlier and had wiped my eyes just in time to take the selfie in a weak attempt at a ceasefire. While things had simmered down later that evening, the overall memory still doesn’t align with what the picture represents (destined life partnership!)
Scrolling through my feed, I can recall a not-so-perfect narrative behind so many of my Instagram posts, and yet, they still made their way to my feed without any admission of their backstories in sight. I might be semi-honest in my writing, but, on Instagram, I’m a scam artist like any other.
It’s not just Instagram that presents a murky version of reality. Over the past years, I’ve had to come to terms that some of my friends are no longer that open about their relationships. I used to think of it as a byproduct of my permanently single status, but have come to realize – and respect– that some people simply consider family to be a vault from which certain information doesn’t escape. And yet, it shuts down the line of communication around the topic on both sides (it’s awkward to confide in somebody who doesn’t confide in you) and occasionally makes me wonder whether I’m the only one actually experiencing issues in my relationship. It also makes me even more grateful to the small handful of girlfriends who share their problems, making me feel like the trials of tribulations of my household are not an anomaly. We all have fights, and awkward mornings in which the air is thick with resentment, and even days that we question how we ended up there in the first place. In our friendships, their honesty is a true act of generosity.
While so many of us remain mum on the topic, a look at the “couples survival industry” is all the pudding we need as proof. From chart-topping relationship gurus such as Esther Perel and Terrence Real to a host of new players, the self-help world seems to be imploding with an endless slew of articles, books and podcasts designed to help couples navigate their issues and come out on the other side. Based on the sales figures, the consumer is clearly there – in fact, there’s a high chance it might be me or you. And yet, the level of secrecy around it makes it feel shameful and taboo, much akin to (dare I say it!) porn. We all might be doing it, but we would rather be damned than talk about it.
But why? What’s so shameful about relationship problems? Paradoxically, the teachings of the aforementioned thought leaders are often largely similar – how to separate your “child parts” from your adult selves, how to be more “relational”, how to communicate without walking into a battle zone. No matter how you spin it, human behavior has a lot of parallels, and so do the issues we experience in our couples. In many cases, we also happen to “marry our unfinished business,” which brings back childhood triggers and sets up a shaky foundation that doesn’t always withstand the added pressure of stress, family and, quite simply, life. It takes time and work to understand each other’s damaged “parts” and learn to live with them. It takes time and work to accept that your partner is far from perfect, and maybe even far from the person you thought they were. Finally, it takes time and work to look deeper into yourself and your own history and acknowledge that you too need to change. And, even when you think you’re finally there, a new test is served to you by the ever-moving force that is life, unveiling new versions of yourselves: who you are when the world shuts down and you lose your income, or in your last trimester with your hormones in overdrive, or when faced with an attractive man or woman, or a sick relative, or on three hours of broken sleep with a toddler erupting your eardrums. Both of you will ace some of the challenges and fail others and, hopefully, find your way back to each other all over again.
Which brings me back to the Instagram charade I was lamenting about earlier. Maybe, by posting romantic platitudes, we are not simply trying to present a picture-perfect version of reality to maintain a certain public image or persona. Perhaps, what we write and say on these stipulated days are more of a through line, an affirmation, a reminder to the both of you. “I love you. No matter what sh*t life throws at us, we will prevail. We will get through it together.” Maybe, Instagram is less of a smoke and mirrors version of our lives, but a manifestation board for the reality we want to inhabit. And the Angeleno in me will vouch that there’s nothing wrong with that.
At the same time, I would really love to see the conversation opened up and “normalized” – between friends, between fellow couples, in the comments section of this newsletter, even on social media for those who feel comfortable being raw in that domain. It’s not the miserable recounts of fights that I’m after, as much as the success stories – the people who went through the gutter and got to the other side, the tangible tools they use to make relationships work. Give me your tips, your strategies, your words of wisdom to get through the moments when your problems feel momentous and your world looks tiny. We are humans and our experiences are similar, so let’s lift the taboo off the ones where we still struggle to share.
I don’t know a single person who has posted about their relationship problems on social media - but I know quite a few that suddenly wiped all the smiling photos, proclamations of eternal love, and all traces of their partner from their feeds. Social media has made people hell bent on showing the best version of themselves - the aspirational vision board is an excellent analogy - but in that regard, they also want people to think that their partners are perfect too.
Social media aside, the whole paragraph on how it takes time and work to understand each other’s damaged parts is *chef's kiss* - absolutely perfectly stated. My partner and I didn’t have our first big fight until about three years in, during the exhausted and anxious stage that inevitably follows the birth of your first child - and I was shocked to learn that we have very, very different fighting styles, stemming from very different personality traits. But hopefully you both learn (I'm still learning) and you take something away from each fight to help de-escalate things more effectively next time (of course there will be a next time.) There are some things about your partner that you can only learn by fighting with them.
Love this! Just watched the documentary about the Gabrielle Venora Petito’s murder (a prime yet extreme example). It used to be “you never know what goes on behind closed doors” now it is “behind the posts.” I too agree the taboo needs to go just like mental health we all have our challenges. We need to remind ourselves everyone is human and it’s ok to show vulnerability.