“Why did you give up your power?” I asked Mark, who had come to therapy to work on his marriage with Karen.

“What do you mean?’ he responded, looking up in surprise. Distraught and guilt-ridden in the aftermath of a recently ended affair, he had just listed the things he needed to change about himself. I was not surprised by Mark’s surprise—no one wants to acknowledge giving up their power in their most intimate relationship.

“Well,” I continued, “that is terrific that you are looking at what you need to do, but what would you want Karen to change?”

Mark shook his head, “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. She gets upset if I suggest she do anything different.”

It was clear that Mark had given up on getting his needs met in the relationship, including the right to ask for anything. No wonder he had gone outside the marriage to reclaim the parts of himself he had buried.

How is it that we relinquish our power in relationship, and why do we stay there? Generally, the path is paved with good intentions. We want our partner to be happy, and we want to be kind, compassionate, and loving. If, however, we are motivated by wanting to avoid our partner’s anger, judgment, or potential abandonment, we hold ourselves hostage to fear. Compromise and sacrifice are the essential components to love, but everyone has to reciprocate dynamically.

If only one person is compromising and sacrificing, that person’s needs go underground along with their vitality, as mutual respect and appreciation disintegrate, and the relationship descends into unhappiness.

How does this happen? We first feel so alive in love because we are seen and appreciated. We are mutually curious and hungry to know each other, asking questions, interested in the answers. We are pleased by our similarities and intrigued by our differences, excited by the “otherness” of the other. We are drawn to traits we admire and lack, and which we may now vicariously enjoy. Ironically, as time goes by, the very differences we once found charming become a source of frustration, annoyance, or disapproval. Now, we want our partner to be more like us. For example, a pragmatic person initially drawn to an adventurous partner later experiences them as reckless. The adventurer who once appreciated their partner’s stability now feels confined. And so it goes, into a spin of critique and judgment—a power struggle in which nobody wins.

Intimate relationship is a complex coming together of two individuals bringing their fears, values, cultural expectations, and relational tendencies. These traits and trends are compounded by our desire for control and fear of change. We are magnets to the familiar, unwittingly attracting partners who offer opportunities to repeat and repair unresolved patterns from previous relationships. For instance, we may unconsciously choose an emotionally distant partner to win attention we didn’t get from an unavailable parent, or a complaining partner in lieu of the unhappy parent we could never soothe. The patterns unfold as we go along, and we become mired in the dynamic before we see it, persisting until we get it right. Initially attracted to Karen’s decisive nature, Mark was now as intimidated by her as he had been by is overbearing and volatile father. His efforts to please Karen and avoid her anger came at great cost to the relationship. Unable to be open and authentic with his wife, he sought freedom to be himself in an extramarital affair.

Love does ask us to relinquish power but only if both partners participate. Surrendering to love should never be a response to threat, fear, or helplessness. A loving partner surrenders by giving space for the other to be more of themselves rather than requiring that they be more like us.

Some things are so essential to our well-being that a truly loving partner would never ask us to give them up. But how do we distinguish between the sacrifices and compromises that are reasonable from those that are unreasonable?

If we have a diminished sense of selfworth, we don’t deserve better—we give our partner the power to determine what is right or wrong, good or bad. Doubting ourselves, we concede to our partner’s version of reality as if it were fact. When we are driven by inadequacy, guilt, wrongdoing, and/or an overdetermined sense of responsibility, we operate through the lens of perpetual apology. From this perspective, giving up power is what we think we should do, and we overlook the imbalance.

As with most things, happiness is found in the balance. In the dance of love, each partner minds their own steps. If everyone participates, no one has to keep score. You are not in charge of changing or fixing your partner, nor in getting them to be more like you. But you can take charge of your own role and responsibility in perpetuating relationship stress. Part of this is checking in with your own happiness, recognizing that not only does it deserve equal weight, but that without it, the relationship cannot survive. Empowerment means asking yourself the hard questions even if it means making changes. Ask yourself, Am I doing all that I can in the dance of giving and getting, and is my partner doing the same?

Power is always with you, but you must be willing to use it. The life and health of your intimate relationship depends on it.

Elizabeth Wolfson, PhD, LCSW, is a psychotherapist in private practice in Santa Barbara, and the chair of the Master’s in Clinical Psychology Program at Antioch University, Santa Barbara.

BY ELIZABETH WOLFSON

“You’re young one day, but youth is rude, and
while you watch it walks right past”
—Ferron

Anyone who has circled the corner of midlife has been subject to this rudeness. And one day each of us awakens to realize that time has been a thief, robbing what we hold most dear—our youth.

We know it when we dread the mirror, dye our hair, forget the name of a favorite song, and as Leonard Cohen says, “ache in the places where I used to play.” Approaching midlife is like standing on top of a mountain and seeing down the other side to where it ends. The end is nearer than it has ever been, and knowing this is precisely what saves us. In fact, it is our increased awareness of aging and mortality that enriches our lives, as every next breath and step is more precious than before.

Our culture calls the midlife passage (currently deemed to be anywhere from 35 to 75) a “midlife crisis.” I call it a midlife amazement. You may be amazed that former energy dedicated to career building and child rearing is shifting. You may be amazed that you are no longer interested in directing energy toward people you don’t like and places you don’t want to go. You may be amazed at what you know and are capable of. You may be amazed at opportunities available to you, hiding in plain sight.

The word crisis itself comes from the Greek krino, to decide. If the middle passage is actually a midlife decision, it is time to decide how you want to use the precious time ahead.

You can choose to focus energy on what you have lost, including former roles and your youthful body. You can choose to cling to familiar habits, stagnant friendships, and ways of being in the world that no longer serve you. Or you can use newly freed energy to enrich valued relationships, cultivate new ones, and explore creative interests. Midlife is a time of shifting priorities and looking inward in order to expand outward. It is a time of connecting to the authentic self, saying yes to opportunity while also slowing down to relish the presence of now. Sexual energy may not be what it was, but your capacity for sensory awareness and emotional intimacy is greater than ever. All of this richness is hidden in plain sight, but you must pay attention to notice the signposts on the path.

The crucial signposts of the middle passage are nostalgia and longing, tempered by wisdom. Nostalgia connects us to our youthful identity, when possibilities seemed limitless. We recall aspects of the past that made us feel alive, hopeful, and creative.

Longing is future directed, like a promise not yet fulfilled. We may not know what it is we are longing for, but we feel it like an itch we cannot scratch. This is the time to explore our longings, to ask, What are my hopes and dreams for the path ahead in the time that remains?

Wisdom, the great gift of the middle passage, informs us about our potentialities within reality. Wisdom frames the cultivation of our longings, our creativity, and our desire for vitality. Wisdom guides our quest for aliveness, not in the self-destructive mode of the proverbial “midlife crisis,” but in construction of rich possibility within real-life limits.

So how do we get there?

One must be willing to connect to all aspects of the self—the good, the bad, and the ugly. Embracing change includes embracing our changing bodies, roles, relationships, and interests. Connection to the authentic self requires the courage to see, appreciate, and love the full range of our strengths and vulnerabilities. To wisely respond to the rich tug of nostalgia and fulfill the calling of our longings, we must be courageous but not reckless.

This is the rich midlife opportunity available to all of us, hidden in plain sight. In the darkness of a forest, we tend to stay on a safe, familiar path, moving in a linear fashion. If, however, we train our eyes to penetrate the darkness, we see dimension, color, and texture. We are able to venture onto unseen fields of light to experience enlightenment and expanded appreciation. Then we can say yes to our authentic, creative self while understanding we can only take one path at a time. Enlightened gratitude embraces all of life, including the lessons of adversity and the full stretch of path leading toward our inevitable end. Embracing death as the organic conclusion of our entire journey from birth can generate aliveness. How we proceed makes all the difference.

The holiday season may elicit gratitude as we connect with loved ones and ponder the turning of the new year. It is a good time to ask, Can I be enriched and find inspiration from the aging process itself? The richness of the middle passage is hidden in plain sight. We need only be willing to look and to decide.

Elizabeth Wolfson, PhD, LCSW, is a psychotherapist and chair of the Master’s in Clinical Psychology Program at Antioch University, where she developed the concentration in healthy aging. She is also a founder of Santa Barbara Village, an organization supporting elders living at home. ElizabethWolfson.net