" Late at Nox , I ’d let him sneak into my bedroom on the top floor of my family ’s tramp farmhouse . … By homeroom the next dawning , it was like it never come about . "
“ I ca n’t block think about him , ” my client said . “ I even daydream about our marriage ceremony . ”
She star at me intently from across the deep brown table where our two cup of peppermint tea sit unswayed . When I did n’t respond , she get down her voice and say , “ I just palpate like we ’re meant to be together . ”
I ’d been counseling this node long enough to recognise the “ him ” to whom she was refer was not her hubby of 15 years . or else , it was the much younger man she ’d met two months prior at a yoga retreat .
“ OK , ” I said , gain for my mug . “ permit ’s attempt to figure out why this person has such a handle on you . ”
My guest could have easily spent another hourlong sitting obsessing over “ raging yoga guy rope ” — which she ’d done many time before — but I was n’t hold up to let her . My job as a healer was to help bring deep awareness to her aroused experience and to identify what was simmering just beneath the airfoil , driving driven mentation and conduct . In this case — limerence .
Almost everyone , at some point , has experienced a quixotic crush . However , unlike a distinctive calf love , limerence is defined by obsessional rumination , deep infatuation and a strong desire for emotional give-and-take — an unfulfilled longing for a person .
concord to Dorothy Tennov , American psychologist and source ofLove and Limerence : The Experience of Being in Love , limerence “ may feel like a very intense form of being in love that may also feel irrational and nonvoluntary . ”
Tennov identified the most crucial feature of speech of limerence as “ its officiousness , its intrusion of cognisance against our will . ”
Limerence differs from the liminal dating phenomenon known as “ situationships,”or “ we ’re date but we ’re also not quite dating . ” While both bung off uncertainty , when someone is experiencing limerence , they often preferthe ideaof their limerent object ( LO ) over being with that somebody in real life . In fact , they might in reality palpate something cognate to revolt when in the physical presence of their LO . I realise this feeling all too well — my own limerent object held my heart and mind hostage for year .
Levi and I assemble on the first twenty-four hour period of my sophomore year of high schoolhouse in the mid-’90s . I was wearing baggy denim boilers suit and combat boots , and my blond whisker was long and divide down the centre . I ’d just gotten my braces off and my tooth were the straight they ’d ever be . Our kinship unfolded to the soundtrack of Baz Luhrmann’sRomeo + JulietandAugust and Everything Afterby The Counting Crows . There were knowing smell and homemade mixtapes — filled with Dire Straits , Jewel and Better Than Ezra — passed discreetly in the hall between classes . We were running through the slopped forage , desperately wanting , but never quite having . We never actually dated .
Earlier that summertime , my family — minus my Father-God — had moved to Woodstock , Vermont , from Boston . My parent were sadly married , but instead of divorcing , they decided to moderate two disjoined lives . My mother , a retired schooling executive and former conical buoy , moved to rural Vermont , and my dad stayed behind to work at his legal philosophy firm .
Levi want to be my beau . He was unwavering and sheer with his flavor as only a love - hit teenager could be . In reply , I held him at arm ’s length while dating other people . But late at dark , I ’d let him mouse into my bedroom on the top trading floor of my category ’s rambling farmhouse and we ’d lie down tangled up together underneath the burnished association football medals and enormous round window that hang above my bed . By homeroom the next morning , it was like it never happened .
Nobody need to point - toe around my household . After the move , my female parent ’s drinking intensify to the point where she often passed out in her bedroom before dinner . My father visited us once or twice a month . He spent the weekend debate with Mom and left without saying goodbye . On Monday morning , I ’d wake to line up him gone and a pile of cash on the kitchen counterpunch . By the time I left for college , my sister and I were basically parenting ourselves .
After college I moved to Manhattan . I casually dated — and even had a few serious relationships — but I ’d be lie if I said I did n’t mean about Levi . I think about him a stack . Out of nowhere , his image would bug out up , haunting my knowingness like a ghost . computer storage of us rest in my twin - size of it bed , bath in moonlight , played on a loop with Jewel croon in the background , “ dreams last for so long / even after you ’re gone . ” finally , I began to question whether I still had feelings for this individual . Was he the one who have aside ?
The strange affair was every clock time Levi and I happened to be in the same metropolis at the same clock time , I deflect see him . Something prevented me from exploring an real relationship with him in real time . A therapist reasoned it was backbreaking for me to have go of his memory because we never had closure , but her take always felt more or less off . My feelings for Levi felt primal — instinctual . Bone deep . Something I could n’t shake .
In my late 20 — practically alienated from my father by this point — Levi reached out to me . It was a basic letter , but still , reading his name in my inbox institutionalise an electrical stream up my spine . I felt like I ’d been punch into a wall . I replied and said I was expert , even though I was n’t . I ’d just finish a farseeing relationship that I reckon was going to terminate in marriage ceremony . I was take flight to New Mexico to pursue a alumna degree in counseling . My life history was ill packed in 20 boxes , stacked indiscriminately in my parents ’ garage . “ How are you ? ” I redirect .
Levi invite me to coffee tree . I suffer five pounds before we met at a intimate spot in our hometown the next week . I arrived wheeling a suitcase because I was hopping a flight to Santa Fe after that afternoon . He looked a lot different in individual than he did in my imagination — older , his hair slim down .
Seeing him was like a control scientific discipline experiment . He mostly talked about himself , and I felt alleviated when it was metre to go . Later that afternoon , as I board my flight , he emailed me : “ If you ’re still in townsfolk have ’s meet for a drink …. ” His invite gave me goosebumps . I never responded .
Eventually , I finished graduate shoal and lead off my career as a counselor . I met my married man , Alex , in Santa Fe , and we subsequently have married and had two nestling . The years go past and we build up a beautiful life together , though it has n’t always been easy . Our older son was born with many ambitious issuing . Shortly after his first birthday , I lost my mother to fast - moving os cancer . Less than two years later , I was name with breast genus Cancer and underwent a unilateral mastectomy and ancillary endocrine treatments that promote me into premature climacteric .
Through it all , Alex stuck by me . He harbor my mitt at my oncology appointment . He did the lion ’s share of parenting our two toddler while I recovered from surgery . He rocked me back to nap when I fire up in the night riddled with anxiousness about mortality and motherhood , and he made me laugh when all I wanted to do was yell . Sometimes , I look back on those first age of married lifespan and enquire how we ever made it through . But somehow , we did — together .
And yet , every now and then , I thought about Levi . He ’d figure my cognisance without warning like a spectral whack - a - mole or a goblin . And then , just as rapidly , his range of a function would go away , leaving me feeling guilty and ashamed . Even though I did n’t feel physically attracted to this person , the thought felt like a betrayal to my husband , who I get it on . My honeyed hubby , who suck me back to wellness after cancer and snake the shower drain whenever my hair overload it . How could I still be intend of some random soul from my yesteryear ? I was originate to think I take a session for my head . alternatively , I decide to utilise my professional training as a therapist to identify — once and for all — the origin of these adolescent musing .
I first learned about attachment possibility in graduate school . The possibility , originate by British shrink John Bowlby in the 1960s , postulate that affixation is form during the first few long time of living and determined by the quality of relationships between small fry and their basal caregivers . It offers a psychological model for understanding how former relationships with caregivers impact interpersonal relationships , doings and emotional rule throughout life .
Psychologist Mary Ainsworth later amplify on Bowlby ’s work by conducting the “ Strange Situation ” experiment where babies were result alone for a period of clock time before being reunite with their mothers . free-base on her watching , Ainsworth concluded that there were dissimilar types of bond , include safe , ambivalent - insecure and avoidant - insecure . subsequently , a 4th type of fastening was added , disorganized attachment , based on inquiry do byMary Main and Judith Solomon , two psychologist from the University of California , Berkeley .
During my practicum , I took a straightaway online assessment and was n’t at all surprised to learn that I have queasy / insecure attachment — the unfortunate jazz group of disorganised and horrific - avoidant . get wind about my attachment style was a critical first step toward attain a deeper understanding of how I go in relationships . For instance , it made me recognize my disposition to disconnect during difficult emotional experience . My college boyfriend referred to this behavior as “ plump into Anna land , ” which looked like avoiding emotionally charged conversations , daydreaming and pull aside .
Over the age , the more I learned about affixation possibility , the more I wondered if my anxious attachment and years - old coping mechanism had something to do with Levi ? They both seemed to share deeply entrenched and unconscious patterns of behavior , and there seemed to be an obvious commons between the two — fantasy .
When I was vernal , I adopted various mental and emotional coping mechanism to help me feel safe . I expect these limerent strategies — detachment , avoidance and fancy — into adolescence . Back then , I take to head for the hills the realness of my childhood base — my distressing , lonely mother and my emotionally unavailable father . My limerent object became the lightning rod for all my emotions , both unspoilt and bad . My family relationship with Levi help to ease my insecurities and fear of desertion , but limerence becomes pathological when a person prioritizes the phantasy version of someone over the literal , live version of them — peculiarly because those two version do n’t often add up .
It took me a foresighted sentence to distill the idea of my LO from the reality of my experience . passion necessitate a willingness to meet the other person in the moment , and the truth is , some nights I ’d hide from Levi — in a closet or my sister ’s room — as he wandered around my non-white , empty house looking for me .
Coming to terms with how — and why — I create these maladaptive cope strategies was a polar turn point in my emotional evolution . As a child , I longed to grow up with answers and a sense of foregone conclusion — to be taught to think in thing like God and the Red Sox . During adolescence , my limerent object became my mental , excited and religious ringway to get me through . As an grownup , I was still using archaic coping mechanisms as a means to self - regulate . I sleep together that if I wanted to be to the full autonomous and present in my life story , I involve to let them go .
These sidereal day , as a female parent and married woman , I understand that love is an activity , not just a tone . I am responsible for for creating my own happily - ever - after . While it ’s impossible to have all the result , I attempt to be honest with myself and others about the matter I do n’t empathise . I believe that showing up and being present with the hoi polloi I love , even when it ’s unmanageable , is the good matter I can do — like when my son has a sensory nuclear meltdown and I sit with him until he stop screaming , or when my hubby and I have a disagreement , I stay in the elbow room and work out it out .
evenly hard , I allow — often force — myself to witness moments of beauty — like how my young Word still loves to climb into my layer each morning and press himself into the fold of my body . I know these minute are fleeting .
Limerence is not love . It ’s stomach from an unmet psychological pauperism , and I believe that it can only be wipe out through the act of ego - compassion . This require the ongoing practice session of forgive myself for the error I made when I was vernal , and forgive my parent for their limitations , too . The truth is , my parents often failed me , but that does n’t mean that they were failure . I have intercourse they loved me and did the good they could .
Over prison term , I ’ve gotten better at sit with uncomfortable intuitive feeling like heartache , disgrace , anxiety and gloominess . Therapy has helped a lot . AndAl - Anon , which teach me how to practice discernment , or “ the wisdom to make out the conflict . ” At the last of the solar day , I know that I ’ve developed the attainment and ego - assurance to move through life sentence ’s challenge without needing to check out . I ’m working to rebuild my ego - esteem from within rather of seeking validation from others , and I ’m much more aware when I turn to phantasy as a mean of self - rule ( like binging a show on Netflix ) . Most importantly , I ’ve come up to take that my rich longings go to me — these primeval longing can not be filled by another person .
at times , I still think of my limerent objective . Levi will appear in my dreams or crop up into my fountainhead at random time during the solar day , and he ’s always a much new version of himself . However , the memories now palpate less bill , and slightly melancholy . I understand the yearning for a someone who was always there and never there . Like a ghostwriter , he ’ll everlastingly roam the halls of my childhood dwelling — lit up with Moon — searching for someone to hold in the Nox .
Note : Some epithet and identifying particular have been changed to protect the privacy of somebody cite in this essay .
Anna Sullivan is a genial wellness therapist , source and co - host of “ Healing + Dealing . ” She has written for The New York Times , Vogue , Cosmopolitan , HuffPost , Today , Newsweek , Salon and more . She is currently write a script , “ Truth Or Consequences , ” about going through other induce menopause due to malignant neoplastic disease handling . Find more from her atannasullivan.net .
This clause originally appeared onHuffPostin April 2025 .
