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The first part of this piece was about loneliness, emotional intimacy and vulnerability. Here, we will venture into friction and the role it plays in helping us go deeper within and finding the right “distance” from which we can truly connect, serving everyone in the process. It is also about time to bring in some lightness, pleasure, and fun; aspects so often overlooked despite their importance in making life worth living and in nurturing our bonds.
Throughout this piece, I will support these reflections with real life illustrations and practices, showing how true companionship, in any kind of relationship, is something built over time through two beings who have enough trust and love to stand up for who they are while receiving the other as they are. Two beings committed to nurturing both their relationship with themselves and with one another, in ways that organically ripple outward into a broader love.
FRICTION: MATURING AS INDIVIDUALS AND STRENGTHENING COMPANIONSHIP
According to Esther Perel, psychotherapist known for her work on relationships, “Love is an encounter with another, with alterity, with uncertainty, with friction.”
We impact each other. We awaken in one another what has not yet been fully seen, felt or acknowledged. And at times, this brings up frustration, hurt, fear, anger and other emotions that we tend to label as “negative.” To notice, recognize, own, and express these difficult feelings honestly and from a loving place is not easy. It takes vulnerability further. It requires self-acceptance and it requires a commitment; a commitment to the art of loving.
I have lived, witnessed and experienced the lengths to which most of us go to avoid friction, often because we fear hurting the other, being rejected, judged, abandoned or misunderstood. Or just because it is uncomfortable. Yet avoiding it, when it is necessary, does not serve us; it feeds our masks and widens the gap in the relationships that matter to us.
“To love another we must love ourselves; we must heal the split within, the split that wants to deny what we label as negative from what we label as positive within us. This is the path toward unification.” John Pierrakos, “Eros, Love & Sexuality: The Forces that unify Man & Woman” (1991)
I am not advocating for confrontation for the sake of confrontation, what I am saying here is that instead of clinging to the mask of “goodness” or just wanting to keep things “smooth,” expressing the truth of our experience with another, although challenging, has many benefits. It allows us to get closer to ourselves, and to get closer to the other. It also allows the other to understand the impact they have on us. Part of the dynamic might come from the baggage we carry and how we have been triggered, but if the person facing us repeatedly triggers similar reactions with other people, it may offer them a clarity about certain patterns, wounds or ways of relating that stand in the way of a richer, more fulfilling life. We offer them the opportunity to reflect, grow and transform something within themselves for their own sake.
For both people to stand in friction, expressing themselves authentically, requires trust, patience, courage, and, somehow, generosity. When speaking of friction, I am not speaking of getting into an argument to win it. Sometimes it may sound like: “I don’t want to hurt you, but I am angry with you,” or even, “… part of me seriously resents you, harbors cruel feelings toward you when this happens.” When approached with honesty and love, and when each person is willing to take responsibility for their part in the dynamic, this kind of revelation strongly solidifies any relationship and supports both people in maturing.
And the more we mature, the better we can withstand confrontation, when necessary. We develop greater resilience to tolerate the discomfort, frustration, and, at times, the pain that can arise through confrontation. Try to think of it as developing a muscle. The less we engage with it, the less able we are to sustain it, and the more isolated we become.
Then, if we apply this to long lasting romantic relationships, mutual revelation is a beautiful way to feed Eros. I insist on mutual. It brings in a sense of adventure and excitement that keeps the relationship vibrant and alive. It allows for the continuous rekindling of Eros. When I speak of Eros, I speak of the poetic impulse, the spontaneous movement toward another. As John Pierrakos brilliantly puts it “[Eros on] The physical level represents the yearning of two people to know each other, to reveal themselves to each other. Through such physical discovery, they can let themselves be known and find the truth of the other person.” And through voluntarily moving toward love and emotional intimacy, we allow the involuntary forces of Eros to take over.
Another benefit of confrontation is that it allows us to find the right “distance”. Think of couples’ dance, like Salsa or Tango, each partner needs to be connected to their own center of gravity, for a finer attunement with the music, with the self and, in turn, with their partner. It allows the couple to naturally find the right distance from which a beautiful spontaneous flow emerges.
THE RIGHT DISTANCE & THE PUSH/PULL DYNAMIC
Finding that right distance is not always easy. It certainly has not been for me. For a long time, I lived caught between two deep seated fears: the fear of being invaded and the fear of being alone. These fears expressed themselves through opposite movements. On one hand, a need for safety, distance, and solitude that led me to close off; on the other, a need for protection and closeness that led me to abandon myself. It created “push and pull” patterns, often confusing and unsettling, both for me and for others. This dynamic has tormented many of my previous relationships.
Having been hurt, something in me held on to the conviction: “I won’t feel this again. I’ll protect myself this time. I won’t need anyone”. This created a clear “push” movement, which stirred something in the other. They would take it as a challenge to overcome, finding ways to draw me in, to make me feel safe enough to trust. Then, at some point, I would let go, I would fall for it, and it sweeps me away. I would truly fall. Not having built enough strength within myself, I would lose my ground and do whatever it takes to keep that person in my life, creating a demand. That is the “pull” movement, one that could feel suffocating for the other, leading them to pull away, which in turn reactivates my own push, feeding the vicious cycle.
In the “push” and the “pull,” no one is truly being themselves. It is an unhealthy dynamic where our more immature needs and egos take over and end up being imposed on the other. It is not a real connection. Over time, as each fails to fulfill a need that was never theirs to fulfill in the first place, the relationship crumbles. Heartbreak.
In my case, these dynamics did not only affect my relationships, but they also stood in the way of my sense of self-worth and my autonomy.
Two main forces were hiding beneath the “push” movement: despair and fear. The despair can come from early experiences of not having felt seen, protected, understood, or truly met. Over time, a strong belief takes root, that no one will be there for us, making it very difficult if not impossible, to reach out, let alone ask for help. This “I won’t need” armor, often hides a sense of fatigue and even collapse.
Alongside despair, fear also plays a role: the fear of rejection, of being hurt, invaded, or betrayed, and of being too much or not enough, among others. And, unfortunately, when driven by unconscious fears we often show up in ways that bring about exactly what we fear the most.
What drives the “pull” movement is an unconscious neediness, or demand, that stems from a lack of inner security; not feeling “capable” or “enough” to be loved for who we truly are, or to move through life as autonomous adults.
“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.” Maya Angelou
Things began to shift for me when I learned to withstand friction, when I identified my core values and my boundaries, and developed enough inner strength to open my heart again while naming my needs and limits clearly, when I learned to stand up for myself AND remain in relationship. This is what I call the right “distance”.
A beautiful illustration of this is a conversation I had with someone dear to me: an old love. We reunited after not having seen each other for a while. As we first met, the tension was palatable. We were both excited and happy to be together, and at the same time triggered in different ways. We were both confused as to how we really felt and how to navigate these emotions in the complexities of our new lives. It was uncomfortable, but neither of us had the courage to bring up how we truly felt about the other in that specific moment in time. Were we lovers or were we friends or both? The following day, as we were discussing a situation outside of our interaction, I felt it echoed what was happening between us. I sensed an unease and asked him how he felt toward me. He opened up, saying he had a hard time positioning himself with me, that all he wanted was to have quality time together, but did not know how to approach me without feeling that he was invading my space or going beyond my boundaries.
Hearing him name where he was at immediately relaxed me. I opened up about my fears, my limits and the pace I needed, and that I, too, longed for quality time together. The truth is, I had been too afraid to name what was in the way because I did not trust, and I was afraid it would hurt him and that I would lose the relationship. We both listened. We both felt truly received. The fact that he named his confusion and desire to get closer, and that I named my fears, needs, and boundaries, strengthened the trust both between and within us. We were both able to respect each other’s inner experience and remain connected. We were able to create a loving shared space.
To love and be loved is beautiful. To love and be loved well, in this way, is a creative act, an art that requires the bravery to face oneself and another. It goes beyond rigid expectations and is meaningful to any kind of relationship. It soothes, like the warmth of the sun on a spring day. It nourishes.
Intimacy and love are nurtured through vulnerability and friction, but it is equally important to remember that they also thrive in lightness, pleasure, and fun.
WHERE THE HECK IS THE FUN?
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” Rumi
Baruch Spinoza, in Ethics (1677), challenges the rigid notions of right and wrong, good and evil. My interpretation of his philosophy is that beneath them lies an ethics grounded in knowledge and in life itself. What I understand as “good” is that which expands our capacity to live, feel, reason, and act with greater freedom, adequacy, and authentic joy; that which is based on our personal values, on our own ethics. The way it translates in relationship, what is “good” is that which nourishes both people and their love. We already spoke of the four pillars of love, but shared fun, pleasure, and joy can also be profoundly powerful ways of doing just that.
Unfortunately, fun, pleasure, and the joy that can be found through them, seem to be overlooked in many mental health and “healing” conversations and practices. It is about time we invite them back in.
In any relationship, shared moments of joy nurture and deepen our bonds; finding something we both enjoy and fully relishing it together, whether through dancing, singing, cooking, hiking, going to the movies, gardening, or simply sitting down, chit-chatting and having a good laugh.
I was raised in a family where “Jaou” and “Kif” have always been central. “Jaou” is a Tunisian word for fun and joy, and “Kif” another for pleasure and delight. I remember my grandmother enjoying a cigarette with her close friends once in a blue moon in the name of “Kif”. I remember the “Jaou” in my family gatherings that end with cousins playing all kinds of instruments and three generations of women belly dancing. I remember my parents hosting parties; my mother filling our home with delicious meals, everyone singing, dancing, and laughing until dawn. I remember my father telling jokes (he still does) at the dinner table until we fall off our chairs. All these precious memories strengthened my faith in life and filled my heart with the kind of sunshine that helped me weather many storms.
So, go, fill your heart with some “Jaou” and some “Kif,” organize that party, go for that karaoke night, cook a tasty dinner with your friends, explore new places with your loved ones, book that romantic getaway or that girls’ trip. Follow whatever tickles your fancy and brings you joy. Forget about your phone and the outside world and allow yourself to fully enjoy the true moments of connection, where your senses awaken and your whole being is spontaneously engaged.
Pay attention to how your body reacts to these beautiful moments, and take them in. The way it manifests in mine is through a sense of ease in my face, aliveness in my eyes, an open heart, and a full breath. My mind becomes clearer, and I stop worrying about details. I am fully here. I can more easily sense what is happening in my body. I experience an overall feeling of warmth and wholeness. My body feels vibrant. I feel hopeful, inspired, and creative. Anything feels possible.
It is also worth mentioning that, contrary to common belief, many of us have a fear of authentic pleasure. That’s often why we turn to the short-lived, unfulfilling kind of pleasure. As Alexander Lowen writes “The capacity for pleasure is the measure of one’s vitality.” (Joy: The Surrender to The Body and To Life, 1995). Some of us tend to associate pleasure with guilt or feel that we need to do something to earn it. As a result, we struggle to truly remain in pleasure or simply receive it, because we feel that we don’t deserve it or that we need to pay something back in return. We do not fully trust that we can receive freely. Beneath this often lies a rooted belief that pleasure is somehow bad or transactional, which makes it feel unsafe.
A PRACTICE IN GIVING AND RECEIVING
My suggestion to you is to notice how your body reacts when you allow yourself to indulge in pleasure. And the next time you indulge or receive, try doing so openly and freely, without immediately feeling the need to give something back. And when you truly give, give from the heart, without expecting or demanding something in return.
In relationships, this can be practiced by taking turns allowing each partner a moment to simply receive what they want and need, whether it is a meal, a touch, a gesture of care, or simply attentive presence, in the way they want it, without needing to reciprocate. Be specific, while remaining respectful of the other’s boundaries. Then notice what arises within each person. It can be deeply enjoyable or else open a beautiful space for sharing, loosening the transactional dynamic that so often finds its way into relationships. It opens hearts and clears the air between two people.
So, be kind and patient with yourself and with each other, find your common interests, and honor your shared pace. Ask the question: “What would you enjoy doing together: today, this week, this month?” and start the conversation. This simple question can get people out of their corners and set a relationship, a person, in motion. From there, let things unfold naturally.
Meeting someone is encountering a reality different from our own; it is creating new worlds within us, within the other, and in between. To walk alongside another as a fellow imperfect human being, and to offer each other the possibility to come back “Home”, to our heart, may be the most precious thing there is. A dear friend once told me, “I love spending time with you because it brings me closer to who I truly am.” I cannot imagine a more beautiful declaration of love. That, to me, is true companionship.
Writing about love and relationships stirred a lot in me. What has fueled me, in times of doubt, is my curiosity, my tenderness toward the complexity of the human experience, and my unshakeable faith in love. My wish is that it stirs something in you as you reflect on all shades of love in your life; that it resonates, supports, or simply makes you feel less alone.
We are beings in the making, alive and ever-becoming. Every encounter, every experience activates something in us, teaches us, transforms us, and ultimately becomes part of us. Once processed and integrated, they can allow us to cultivate and access our gifts so that, one day, when our heart calls for it, we can put them in service of what truly fulfills us, of something greater than ourselves.
That is what I will be exploring in the next and final piece of this series, where I will turn toward what inevitably accompanies love: Grief, Closure and Finding Beauty in Life’s Transient Nature.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hella Zouiten is a contributing writer at ELLE Egypt. She is a Core Energetics/ Body-mind integration psychotherapist living in France. If you would like to know more about her, click here.
