the couple that they’re not entirely “perfect” for each other after all. In this second stage, they start to realize there are more differences between them than they first thought. And as soon as they feel the first stab of doubt, they anxiously try to deny its existence. Even when partners acknowledge their differences, they tell themselves they will eventually be ironed out — or that they’re no big deal in the first place.
As all of this unfolds, the special magic of The Merge starts to subside. You’re no longer compelled to spend every moment together, no longer mesmerized by each other’s presence, and no longer as willing to bend over backward to make the other happy. You may start to show more critical, irritable, or unattractive parts of yourselves. One or both of you might start to air small grievances, only to be met by knee-jerk defensiveness or even retaliation. Arguments start to arise more frequently, affection dulls, and alone time begins to feel restorative rather than intolerable. Sex may become less frequent — or at least less passionate — now that the novelty is fading and the “love chemicals” in the brain have begun to subside.
At this point, partners may think, “It used to be so easy!” and “Why can’t he (or she) see things the way I do?” And most disconcerting of all: “Have I chosen the wrong person?” If you’re experiencing these kinds of thoughts and feelings, it may indeed be a signal that you’re with the wrong person. But, just as likely, it’s a manifestation of the emotions that naturally arise during this second stage of the Love Cycle. Though painful, the death of illusion permits us to move closer to the possibility of real, abiding love. It’s the great paradox of relationships. As romance recedes, we can learn to steer through difficulty in ways that deepen the relationship rather than damage it.
I call this the “silent stage,” because it’s the step in love’s journey that partners rarely discuss directly. We find ourselves smoothing over differences and fearful of broaching them with our partner, let alone our friends and family. We stay silent because we don’t want to admit our relationship isn’t the perfect haven we once believed it to be.
Stage Three: Disillusionment
The Disillusionment stage is the winter season of love, one that may feel like the end of the road for some couples. The power struggles in the relationship have come fully to the surface; the issues the couple have consistently shoved under the rug are now glaringly obvious. Some people become perpetually vigilant, on edge, and ready to fly into battle at the slightest provocation. Other couples might quietly move apart over time, putting less and less energy into maintaining the relationship and investing more outside of it. They begin to make separate lives in the places that matter most, sharing less and less with one another about what really matters and practicing “the art of nice” without much depth.
At this juncture, our original experience of passionate love is a distant memory. The “I” reemerges, a state that feels a lot safer than our former blissful experience of “we.” Dark thoughts might even enter our heads, ones we may share with others: “I’m not sure I love my partner anymore,” or “My husband has turned into someone I don’t know,” or even, “I think I married the wrong woman.” Even if we don’t frame our differences in such a dramatic fashion, we experience a sense of growing distance and estrangement from our partner.
Other couples may experience Stage Three not as a time of questioning their commitment to the relationship itself, but rather as a strong message that things need to change or that the original contract their relationship was built on is no longer relevant. For example, these messages might be the product of life transitions. Perhaps who we were in our twenties is not who we have become in our thirties, forties, or fifties, and that transitional process becomes disruptive to the relationship and can cause intense alienation.
Whatever shape the Disillusionment stage takes, at this point life feels unpleasantly predictable. We’re having the same fights over and over again — or not communicating at all about anything that’s actually important, avoiding all the possible places of trouble. Where we once saw the best in our partner (“He’s so confident and reasonable!”), now we see the worst (“He’s so controlling and out of touch with his feelings!”). Perhaps we even witness our own unappealing qualities — and then turn around and blame our partner for them. Bad moods abound. We may resort to behaviors that are unhealthy and deeply hurtful to our partners and ourselves — lies, betrayals, and sexual transgressions. We may find ourselves fantasizing about an old love, a current colleague, or even that cute pizza-delivery guy.
Stage Four: The Decision
Finally, you reach a breaking point. Nearly every relationship hits what I call “the wall” — the stage where the differences, challenges, and negativity between partners feel unbearable.
For many couples, this decision is about staying or leaving. You’re utterly worn out. Emotional breakdowns — crying fits, screaming, or slamming the door and leaving the house for several hours — are commonplace. You and your partner retreat into self-protective behaviors and emotions: emotional shutdown, remoteness, and indifference. Maybe you even find yourself telling your friends and family things like, “I can’t do this anymore.” Sex is rare, nonexistent, or takes place exclusively after arguments. You may feel ready for an enticing new beginning with a new person. Other couples’ successful relationships feel like grim proof that yours is unsalvageable. Singlehood starts to seem better and better, compared to remaining in this dysfunctional, energy-sapping arrangement.
Some couples face a different kind of decision that isn’t about whether you’re walking out the door. This stage is called The Decision for a reason: something isn’t working, and it’s reached the point where you desperately need a change. What you do next will likely determine whether your relationship thrives and moves in a new direction or you become resigned to status quo.
Many couples decide to separate when they reach this level of estrangement. Some opt for living parallel and distant lives: living together but no longer seeking intimacy, emotional support, meaningful sex, or personal growth from each other. In this case, polite indifference often becomes a coping strategy. Others peacefully accept the living of parallel lives, perhaps coming together for family occasions and even supporting each other, but neither partner is hopeful for deeper intimacy. Still other couples simply stay as they are, playing out the same tired battles over and over without any willingness to change or leave.
Even if we do successfully extricate ourselves from what can feel like a doomed relationship, it’s a mistake to fail to fully explore the difficult lessons of this stage. If we don’t come to grips with our own role in the relationship’s conflicts, we’ll likely choose the same kind of person next time and re-create a similar story. In addition, committing to learn from our experiences in this stage can help us to leave the relationship without bitterness and blame. We might even be able to become a little more tolerant, emotionally intelligent, and wholehearted in the process.
Sometimes, when I am working with a couple at this stage of the Love Cycle, especially when there is a lot of hurt and many messes to clean up, I suggest they consider that “the marriage is over.” After a moment’s pause to let the concept sink in, I continue: “So how about making a new marriage, keeping what worked and changing the parts that you’ve outgrown or weren’t healthy to begin with?”
If both partners decide to fully embrace their commitment to the relationship and their own healing, that decision may lead them to the fifth and final stage of the cycle.
Stage Five: Wholehearted Love
Reaching the stage of Wholehearted Love requires the hardest work of all: true individuation, self-discovery, and acceptance of imperfection in both our partner and ourselves. Wholehearted love recognizes there’s no such thing as a “perfect match.” It acknowledges both the inevitable differences between the self and the partner as well as how one’s own actions contribute
