When Self-Images Harden

“Closeness isn’t that important to me.”

Perhaps what we take to be our truth is a well-rehearsed evasive maneuver.

Last week I wrote about how every decision strengthens one pole and frustrates the other. I also mentioned “favorite poles.” But sometimes these favorite poles are not what they claim to be. Sometimes they’re disguised avoidances, behind which stands a protective movement.

Today I want to describe how this comes about, and what we can do to distinguish need from avoidance.

With a need for attachment, both poles—closeness and distance—are important.

We need contact, being seen, touchability. < And we also need withdrawal, boundaries, being alone.

Psychological well-being means moving between closeness and distance, and doing so contextually appropriate depending on situation, person, life phase.

It becomes problematic where one pole becomes a fixed self-description:

“Closeness isn’t important to me.” “I don’t need anyone.” “I always have to be strong.”

Or the other way around:

“When I’m alone, I always feel lonely.” “Only when I’m close to my partner do I feel good.” “Being independent scares me.”

Then often not only is one need strong, but the opposite pole is barely accessible anymore:

~ Distance then protects against the imposition of really entering into relationship. ~ Freedom protects against the fear that arises when we need someone. ~ Control protects against the uncertainty of taking responsibility for our own decisions.

Movement is normal, sticking is a signal

The inner movement between need poles is normal, even necessary for psychological well-being. We oscillate back and forth, sometimes more closeness, sometimes more distance, sometimes more freedom, sometimes more stability.

When we chronically stick to one pole, suspicion is warranted: Perhaps then it’s not our need, but our avoidance at play. We refuse to even feel the other pole anymore.

But how do we distinguish this?

→ A lived need usually feels more negotiable. We wish for it and can (temporarily) frustrate it. There’s more rhythm in it, more (self-)contact, more forward-directed experience.

→ Avoidance seems hard, absolute, non-negotiable: “That’s just how I am!” ends the conversation. With ourselves too. It’s more emotionless, more controlling. More withdrawal and past-oriented.

We can ask ourselves: what are our supposed favorite poles that we’re stuck to?

And we can imagine what it would be like to give the other pole just 10% more space. What would that do to our inner structure?