I’ve noticed something interesting in today’s culture:
Some people are willing to meet someone in the absolute pits of emotional unavailability (and scrape the bare-minimum bottom of the barrel).
Others are ghosting perfectly decent people for mispronouncing “croissant.”
It’s not that the population is split between the unreasonably forgiving and the chronically unimpressed. It’s that many of us are both.
At once.
In rotation.
We say we want deep connection, but flinch the moment someone actually sees us.
Or, we don’t allow people the chance to do so in the first place.
Why?
Because we’ve been hurt.
Because we’re scared.
Because we’ve been told we’re too much, and then not enough.
Because we once set impossible standards, then we scrapped them entirely to avoid dying alone.
Because we tolerated disrespect for too long and now guard our hearts with iron gates and a 37-point checklist.
We overcorrect.
It’s protective.
It’s understandable.
When we don’t trust love to be safe, we either try to perfect it or preemptively destroy it. And when we’re unsure of our worth, we either lower the bar to feel chosen or raise it so high that no one can ever truly encounter us. And while I empathize with both (hell, I’ve done both), neither extreme is helpful when it comes to building healthy relationships.
Because here’s the thing:
Neither extreme teaches us how to be in relationship.
Neither helps us stay when it’s right or leave when it’s wrong.
Neither makes room for the messy, miraculous middle—where healthy love actually lives.
“The act of revealing oneself fully to another and still being accepted may be the major vehicle of therapeutic help.”
— Irvin D. Yalom
And I’d argue—it’s also the major vehicle of love.
I’m starting to believe that the real courage lies in resisting both extremes. In softening where we’ve gone rigid, and strengthening where we’ve gone slack. In allowing space for people’s (and our own) humanity. In remembering that standards aren’t walls, and perfection isn’t the price of love.
So if you’re oscillating between angelic ideals and absolute disasters, you’re not alone. But maybe it’s time to come back to center. To stop using extremes to keep love at a distance and start figuring out how to let it all the way in.
Reflection Questions
When was the last time I lowered my standards out of fear of being alone?
When have I set the bar so high that no one could reach me?
What parts of me still believe love is dangerous?
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I was chatting with a woman on Bumble this week and she ghosted me after I told her I run my own company and I make films. : ) The funny thing is, I don't mind when people ghost now. I'm grateful instead. The sooner you tell me you're not worth my time, the better. I'm still sending love to you on your journey.
I absolutely LOVE this. It’s so spot on! I was watching a show where a woman was “desperate” (her words not mine) to find love but ghosted a man simply because he used a curse word. ONE. And instead of communicating with him in order to allow him the space to make correction, she just moved on. At what point will we begin to look into our own mirrors of accountability?