In my early 20s, long before I reconciled with violent, alcoholic parents, I became aware, through several failed attempts at relationships, that it hurt when I tried to love.
In my professional career, specializing in the treatment of emotional abuse, it was no surprise that most victims also felt that it hurt when they tried to love. But it was a revelation to find that perpetrators had the same feeling, hidden beneath entrenched defenses of resentment, anger, and entitlement. The more they abused, the more it hurt when they tried to love. No matter how much their partners loved them, they couldn't feel loved because they couldn't feel worthy of it.
My violent parents loved each other fiercely, yet neither felt loved. They were unable to see beyond their own pain to experience genuine compassion for each other. I don't believe we can feel loved when we wall off the part of our hearts that feels compassion.
Compassion is a gut-level response to a partner's pain, discomfort, hardship, or anxiety. It includes sympathy, protectiveness, and a desire to help but not control. It's not just feeling sorry for someone; it includes an impulse to comfort. At heart, it's a simple appreciation of the basic human frailty we all share. That's why giving compassion makes us feel more humane and less isolated.
When compassionate, we respect that our partners are different from us, with different temperaments, metabolisms, hormonal levels, family histories, life experiences, sensitivities, vulnerabilities, and habits. Love without compassion is intolerant of differences. When partners lack compassion, their arguments have this subtext:
“You have to think like me, feel like me, and behave like me.”
The irony is they wouldn't have been attracted if they were more like each other. In general, we're attracted to differences, though not opposites. There's no........