What Happens If One Partner Pushes and the Other Pulls Away?

The push/pull dynamic is extremely common in relationships. And most of us have been in it at some point. One partner, the one who seems to love the other more, pushes, demanding more time, attention, and consideration. The other, the aloof one, feels suffocated and, therefore, finds any excuse to avoid difficult conversations and vulnerability, broadly. Most of the couples that therapists see present with this overarching problem.

It’s easy to misunderstand the occurrence as an instance of a misguided chase, for it seems that one isn’t getting the message the other doesn’t care. So, we often give our struggling friends platitudes like, “Well, if he wanted to he would,” implying they should cut their losses and end the relationship. The problem is that cliche misses the individual essence of a particular relationship. While some relationships should, undoubtedly, be abandoned (especially in the case of emotional and/or physical abuse), others simmer, containing a kernel of hope. Accessing it, however, will often prove difficult.

Couples therapy usually begins with both parties blaming each other. One blames the other for being needy and the other objects to chronic, perceived mistreatment. “It’s all your fault” is the reoccurring yet trite message from both. So, here, we have two individuals unable not only to take responsibility for specific actions but, additionally, to hold themselves accountable for choosing their partner. Often, people will say things like, “Well, I couldn’t have known.” The point, unfortunately, is moot — you choose your partner anew every day. Rather than being defensive, which most of us do when feeling hurt, it may help to be curious instead. I often recommend that couples try engaging in Socratic questioning, to not only learn about each other, but to even implicitly, through their questions, point to discrepancies between their partner’s stated and implicit values. To do this, you really need to know the individual at least somewhat well.

Couples can be symbolized by the ‘yin and yang.’ Even though, for example, one may present with a fear of engulfment, or losing themselves in the other, they may carry in them the unacknowledged seed of fearing abandonment. On the other end, the one terrorized by the prospect of being rejected carries the unconscious fear of being engulfed, which is, in large part, submerged by the frenzied pursuit of intimacy and, if we’re being honest, control. When you’re in control (or attempting to win it), there’s no need to seriously consider the chance of losing control or your identity. Equally true: when you’re running away, there’s no need to seriously consider another running from you.

Usually, both partners tend to be perfectionists in their pursuit of ideal love — each wants love on their own terms. However, to be accurate, we should label them one’s “conscious terms.” Much of the time, both parties mirror each other, meaning that since the opposite desires abide in each one, they would likely feel unhappy if their desires were met, so the script would flip. If the avoidant one were to become attentive and giving, the other may begin to fear losing their own independence, even losing respect for the one backing down, for being so malleable. And if the anxious one were to become avoidant, the original avoidant may begin to pursue. It’s easy to disqualify this sort of relationship as “toxic,” but like each of the noted partners in their own ways, we would also severely fail via limited empathy, denying our own fears while minimizing our own cruelties.

The famed marriage counselor Esther Perel emphasized the truism that in couples therapy, the partner who appears to care least often cares most. Sometimes, they know, and sometimes, they don’t. My point is that this dynamic is a door to significant insights into oneself and, more importantly, into why you relate how you do to the person you choose to be with. The thing about control is that, especially when associated with obsessiveness and perfectionism, in reality, we frequently don’t know what we want, despite insisting we know what we’re doing. In the push/pull dynamic, its rigidity makes it easy to blame the other because counterfactuals often don’t exist — for example, if you’re more avoidant, you’ll likely continue to present that way.

But blame and defensiveness not only preclude reconciliation but also responsibility, not only for the partners we choose but also for making informed choices about what sort of relationships we want. In treatment, partners learn about the ways they overcorrect, creating worlds they don’t actually want — the avoidant doesn’t want to be abandoned and the more anxious one doesn’t really want to be held captive. Taking responsibility, at bottom, means making up our minds about how we should relate to each other, whether problem-solving, sharing, or supporting one another. It also means facing our fears. Socratic questioning helps us see how we stoke the flames of our fears, helping to bring about the most repugnant outcomes. But it may also provide us with clarity. A patient may discover that apparent neediness reveals a deep-seated love, which they’re unlikely to find just anywhere. Feeling gratitude and perceiving the imbalance of power, their sympathy for their partner may transform into concern, causing the wall to come down and them to relent. Another patient may discover that they fell in love with their partner’s independence and sense of pride, recalling their decisiveness as a source of comfort throughout innumerable dark nights. And, maybe most importantly, they discover the kernels of their awake selves asleep in each other.