You’re Not Their Therapist

About a year ago, I came across a graph while dredging through my Instagram explore page that has burrowed its way into my brain and stuck with me ever since. 

The “Dating Men Compass” showed a crossing X and Y axis – at each end of the Y axis were the labels “Bro” and “Fleshlight”, and at each end of the X axis, “Mother” and “Therapist”. It asks you where you fall in a relationship… and I was drawn to the bottom right so fast I got whiplash. Fleshlight-Therapist. 

Every friend I showed the image to cracked up before concurring that they, too, had felt like a therapist at some point to a partner or someone they’d casually dated. It was an almost unanimous sentiment amongst the girlies. 

And, obviously, it’s not uncommon to lean on a partner. It’s actively a good thing to share and be open with the people you’re dating. Being comfortable with someone like that is an amazing thing – but when someone who’s never considered attending a therapy session constantly unloads on you it’s a slightly different story. 

Being made to feel like you need to provide constant counsel and unpack huge issues in someone’s life, or past, is a massive burden to bear. Often, it’s paired with emotional unavailability the rest of the time. 

If you’ve had a partner like this you’ll be familiar with the cycle: moody resistance until someone finally dumps years worth of backed-up, emotional baggage in one go. It might be legitimate trauma or hurt that’s related to a previous relationship. It could even be unaddressed childhood wounds. Any number of significant or seemingly insignificant things can build up over the course of a life and cause more serious issues if they’re never dealt with. 

And it’s hard not to want to help. But eventually, you can find yourself carrying twice the emotional weight that a person is built to deal with in order to make your partner feel supported – at the expense of your own mental health. 

Feeling a sense of safety in a relationship is super important but, if you’re your partner's only outlet for their emotional-shit you can end up in a dodgy dynamic.

It’s no secret that Aotearoa has some issues with men’s mental health. It’s increasingly common for men to experience feelings of depression and anxiety, and many men feel a slight resistance to professional help. 

VICE heard from one reader who said “therapy was for weak people”. Another said “part of me is scared of diving into the parts of myself that have made me feel unstable”. Statistics point to men being a third less likely to even visit their GP, so it’s no surprise our men aren’t jumping to see a counsellor. 

In a romantic relationship, someone may feel that it’s the first time they’ve really trusted another person. That trust lends itself to vulnerability, and then the partner can become the outlet for everything that’s built up and never been dealt with. 

And then there’s the all-too-common idea that you can “save” someone. This “I could save him” sentiment, memed a million times, online, over pictures of Stalin, Patrick Bateman and various line-chef aesthetic celebrities, is the idea of being drawn to someone you feel you can help, save or improve. It’s joked about, sure, but it’s an ideology that’s been prevalent for years and snuck into the psyche of many people through TV and film.

The onscreen bad boy archetype – JD from Heathers, Noah in The Notebook, Edward Cullen from (say it out loud) Twilight  – often attracts a beautiful, intelligent partner who is drawn to both their darkness and seeks to save them from themselves… all at once. We’ve grown up seeing silver screen heroines rescued and protected from the world's “evils”, and this has set up whole generations of people to think that this isn’t just normal, but desirable. 

Sure, you might just be naturally hospitable, or generous, but it’s worth thinking about where some of those instincts come from.

Because here’s the thing: You’re literally not a therapist. Unless you are, in which case you already know that treating your partner is a bad path to go down. 

And there are a whole lot of hazards that come with taking on that role in someone’s life when you’re not a professional. The constant over-loading of a partner's issues can cause resentment, annoyance and a pressure can build on one person in the relationship to “fix” the problems. 

Some key things to look out for if you feel like you’ve become your partner’s therapist, or even that you’re putting someone else in that position are: 

• A one sided relationship, or dynamic where you have distinctly different roles.
• One partner being codependent on the relationship. 
• One partner having legitimate trauma that hasn’t been dealt with.

And we’re not saying this is some big red flag. But if this is the only role you feel you play in a partner's life, it’s worth thinking about why you’re in that relationship and what you’re getting from it. You’re supposed to be your partner's partner. Not their therapist. 

Own the Feels is brought to you by #LoveBetter, a campaign funded by the Ministry for Social Development.

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Rachel Barker is a writer / producer at VICE NZ in Aotearoa.