When Hope is Your Enemy

In a bad relationship, hope may keep you trapped

People typically think of hope as a good thing. Having faith in the invisible and maintaining a positive vision of the future can feel like the right thing to do, especially when the object of our faith is someone we love. Hope makes us feel good — for a while. Many religions teach us to have hope and believe the best about people.

In many cases, hope is dangerous. It can even ruin our lives.

I commonly meet with people caught up in addictive love relationships with someone with a severe personality problem. This person may be narcissistic, psychopathic, or have other personality traits that are intransigent and unamenable to change. They may be physically, emotionally, or financially abusive. But addicted lovers are often blind to the fact that these personality qualities indicate that they are being manipulated and the beloved object of their affection has no interest in changing or being a better partner — despite promises made. These people repeat patterns of behavior no matter what they say.

The truth is always found in behavior, not words and promises.

A love-addicted partner's robust neurochemical response causes them to crave their partner. They are under the influence of dopamine, oxytocin, and endogenous opioids, which diminish their ability to see their partner realistically. They are not in love with who their partner is — they are in love with a fantasy of who they think their partner will eventually become.

They engage in endless conversations, write lengthy emails, explain their point of view, explore their feelings, read self-help books, and repeat psychology jargon for weeks, months, or years. They pray. They obsess. But the partner’s bad behavior never changes.

Eventually, they bring them to therapy, hoping the therapist has a magic wand to turn their partner into their vision of what a good partner would be. They hope for a transformation. While the partner may play along for a time, they have no interest in being anyone other than exactly who they are.

In these cases, I consider it my job to help people face reality, dispel fantasy, and banish unrealistic hope. It’s tricky work because if a person goes there with me, it requires a reevaluation of their life and their vision of the future. It involves a restructuring of their internal and external world.

It means they give up rationalizing abusive, disrespectful, and shady behavior.

It means they stop feeling sorry for a manipulative adult (like, “he has ADD and can’t help it”).

It means they give up the fantasy that there is something they or someone else can do to make their partner be someone other than who they are.

It means they confront their own reliance on magical thinking.

It means they must take responsibility for their own lives and happiness and take agency by letting go of a destructive dependency.

It means they eventually become free.

Not everyone can do it, but those who do find tremendous rewards as more fulfilling activities fill their time, and a sense of strength, competence, and confidence returns.

Addictive love relationships can be deadly. Obsession robs one of a sense of peace; it wears them down emotionally and physically. It means they tie themselves up with a partner who will never treat them well and miss the opportunity to be with someone who will.

Hope in something impossible is not helpful, though it can feel good. It’s a normal part of childhood. As adults, believing in fantasy doesn’t serve us. Satisfying outcomes arise from a realistic appraisal of another’s strengths and weaknesses and assessing whether the qualities for a mature and positive attachment are present.

In a future book, I’ll write more on the specific neurobiology of love and attachment and how to make choices that serve us.