The limits of love

I wish that people who are conventionally supposed to love each other would say to each other, when they fight, "Please — a little less love, and a little more common decency." --Kurt Vonnegut

Becoming a dad just over a year ago has had a tremendous affect on my work as a therapist. As dads do, I fell in love with my daughter on sight. She's wonderful. It is a joy to love her, and easy. It's easy to love my therapy patients as well. When someone comes into my therapy office, invites me to get close to his pain or her hopes, love flows freely.

Being a new parent, one of the things that's surprised me the most (and there have been many) was just how little use love is in the day to day. When my daughter's hungry, or wet, or cold she needs food, a diaper change or a blanket. Love is great, and she receives it happily. It just isn't going to make her feel better when these basic needs demand attention. Love won't teach her to read or pay for her college tuition. I'm sure they'll be love surrounding all of those things, it just won't be nearly enough to raise her well.

It's the same for me as a therapist as it is in so many relationships. I believe my love has great value, but as many ways as I may find to share it, it won't be (can't be) nearly enough to make for effective, growthful therapy. What's needed is my honesty, my skill, my tough questions and smart guidance.

Love's hard, but other things are harder

Love isn't easy for all of us. Sometimes love, early in life, or through periods of trauma, was wrought with pain, manipulativeness, was inconsistent or just wasn't there. All of which can make it hard to receive and hard to give. As tough as love can be, though, sometimes it's easier than common decency.

Love isn't decency

I don't find love to be at all at odds with decency, of course. There's a need for more love in the world and I want to help people give it and receive it. Except it just isn't enough. When we fight, when we're hurt by someone, there's temptation to say, "Don't be mad at me because I love you." When this assertion is made, love ends up being a substitute for decency--a free pass of sorts.

We've probably all been in a fight with someone we love, and found ourselves thinking (pleading, perhaps), "Why are you so mad at me? Can't you see how much I love you?" The mistake we're operating off of in that painful, vulnerable moment is assuming that love ought to trump whatever it is our loved one is angry about. But it doesn't.

Love and indecency aren't incompatible

"If he loved you he wouldn't do that" is a pretty common value statement. The story goes that if someone treats us badly, they must not love us. But people mistreat those they love all the time. It stinks, but it happens. Mistreatment isn't proof that love doesn't exist; it's proof of mistreatment. What's needed when that happens isn't more love, it's better treatment (common decency, as Vonnegut says).

If we really think about it, it's probably the people we love to whom we do the most unkind things. It's a hard fact to swallow. But it turns out, hurting people isn't something we do because we don't care about them. (When we don't care, most often we just stay away, which doesn't leave much chance for hurting.) We hurt one another for all kinds of reasons (our own hurt, bad habits, false attempts at protecting ourselves). Unfortunately, loving more won't fix that. Not on its own.

"But he knows I love him"

Yet another way we problematically substitute love for decency is in assuming the love will cover a multitude of sins.

A couple who no longer shares affection when they reconnect at the end of the day:
"We know we love each other. We don't need reminders."

A forgotten birthday present for an old friend:
"She knows I care about her. We've been friends forever."

An abrupt end to a phone call with your sister:
"We're family. I don't need to call back and apologize."

Isn't it ironic?

There no sentiment more cherished in our culture than love. (Certainly nothing has been more honored in songs or poetry.) And yet, ironically, love often gets in way really being, well, loving. We've got to push ourselves to skip the shortcut of love. To say to one another, "Let's stop loving each other for a moment and really work on treating one another well."