How longing keeps us from healthy relationships | Amanda McCracken | TEDxCU

Transcriber: Belisa Pires Reviewer: Walaa Mohammed (APPLAUSE) (Applause) What do you long for right now? Is this the parent you lost last year? Or maybe one you never had? Is this the child you want to conceive? Or maybe the one who just left for college? Maybe it's that beach on your bucket list. Or a former lover who haunts your dreams. We long for the divine, for home, for youth, for food. But what happens when

longing

itself becomes your lover? You fall in love with the possibility and the withdrawal of that possibility. Now

longing

can be our greatest muse.

It can calm us in times of uncertainty and give us a sense of control in our lives. It can also become a debilitating crutch, even an addictive neurochemical drive. A natural antidepressant. My friend with anorexia told me that she fantasized about elaborate foods but that she never ate them. In a way I understood it. I was a virgin at 35 when I realized she was addicted to longing. By staying hungry, I could stay hungry, which was somehow more satisfying than not feeling anything at all. About ten years ago, I began writing a letter to an ex-college boyfriend, trying to untangle my actions, desires, and questions he had.

That letter became an essay published by The New York Times titled "Does My Virginity Have a Shelf Life?" When that essay went viral, the Katie Couric Show flew me to New York for an interview. I sat next to Katie as she asked me questions. Mainly, “Why do you wait for a loving, committed relationship to have sex?” What I should have asked myself is "why is it so hard to find such intimacy?" The sexual revolution harmed many women by encouraging sexual freedom without the need for emotional intimacy. No matter how hard we try, most women are not programmed to be Samantha from “Sex and the City.” Have sexual relations without conditions where mutual consent is the only requirement.

Now, at the commercial break, Katie turned to me and said, "You know, you just need to have sex." (LAUGHTER) “Everyone here at the studio thinks you have fairy tale princess syndrome, that you're just waiting for a knight in shining armor to surprise you.” Now, when I tell that story to most people, they respond with anger. But at that moment I felt ashamed, as if I had somehow been following the wrong script. I thought being an empowered, sex-positive woman in today's society meant choosing when and with whom to have sex. And, for me, that meant being in a relationship where I felt loved and respected, where sex was meaningful to both of us.

But I began to wonder if something was pathologically wrong with me. I mean, what could be wrong with longing? It has inspired some of the greatest writers, musicians and artists. I had this poem titled “Ode on a Grecian Urn” posted on the bulletin board at my university. In it, the poet wrote: “The melodies heard are sweet, but those not heard are sweeter.” The 13th century Persian poet Rumi wrote: “Longing is the core of mystery. Longing itself brings the cure.” But is it really? When I turned 40 and was a virgin, I found myself living in this unique purgatory.

The longing to find the right person at the right time and in the right place kept me distracted from my fear of making an imperfect decision. It was a protection mechanism. In a dating world where intimacy feels like maybe someone will text you back after you met them in a drunken relationship. And you know how easy it is to fantasize about a person or place when you have an incomplete image. That's why many of us return to that highly addictive place of "what if?" I fell in love with emotionally and physically unavailable men. That Caribbean captain whose handlebar mustache tasted like rum? (LAUGHTER) And that lovely journalist who said to me while we were still lying in bed: “I'm an idiot.

Stay away from me." (LAUGHTER) And the depressed artist who could never love me because he couldn't love himself. And even the unhappy married one. I flew to Barcelona, ​​Detroit, San Francisco. All in the hope of rekindling a flame that I had spent hours lurking on social media. Friends, my longing consumed me. I knew that if I wanted to have a

healthy

relationship, I had to change my patterns. And so, as most journalists do, I sought advice from a. variety of experts. From psychologists to neurologists, from rabbis to porn stars, from sociologists to decision-making scientists. And the fact that I entered the fifth decade of my life definitely puts me in the minority.

But romanticizing the past and looking for the. emotion of anticipation is extremely common. Longing is culturally and neurologically driven. Our materialistic society monetizes longing. Media and technology hook us from a young age. Case in point: me with Cinderella at age eight. Companies like Disney and television shows like The Bachelor make us believe in some fantasy. And the words of the religious hymns I grew up with reinforced the longing for a Superman. Savior. Rescue. Faith. Surrender. But I don't blame religion. Like many of my peers, I was drawn to movies and music in which it is common to long for a distant person or place.

I bet more than half of you know the lyrics to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” or “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” by U2. In a recent study conducted at the University of Toronto, a psychologist cited more than 800 number one billboard hits for their attachment themes. They found that from 1946 to 2015, letters have become increasingly elusive and less certain. Maybe you identify yourself here somewhere? This reflects social disconnection, which is a catalyst for longing. And if craving is a mental muscle, the more we exercise it, the stronger it becomes. I was caught by what decision science calls inertia of inaction.

Why say yes to someone when you weren't willing to say yes to someone who was equally right? After all, how do you break a streak? Most people with anorexia know that the reward is not the distorted image you see in the mirror, but the addictive high that comes from the habit of resisting over and over again. And the seemingly endless amount of options on dating apps made me believe that I would eventually find the perfect match. Psychologists call this choice overload theory. We continue searching and longing for a cheaper flight, a job with better benefits, a house in a better location.

And some are still looking for a better lover. "Ashley Madison" is the leading dating site for married people. Their motto “Life is short. Have an affair.”... (LAUGHTER) reflects its members' beliefs that affairs help maintain their marriages. Members say the issues are a big distraction and give them something to look forward to. I long. Anticipation. In a California real estate survey, 1,000 participants said they would rather search Zillow for their dream home than have sex. I long. Anticipation. (LAUGHTER) We look for it in different parts of our lives. These anticipation-inducing habits produce high levels of dopamine similar to those of drugs.

Neuroscience says that our brains are actually programmed to want what we don't have. The happiness hormone dopamine is released not when we get what we want, but when we anticipate getting it. That's why studies show that our brain releases more dopamine when we plan a vacation instead of taking it. Research from CU's own neuroscientist, Zoe Donaldson, suggests that we're actually programmed to pine for past lovers. When these monogamous prairie voles separate from their companions and run to join them, a unique group of cells in the nucleus accumbens lights up. Now, this is the same reward center in the brain that is also activated when cocaine and nicotine addicts crave the drug.

The same place that lights up when Netflix binge watchers wait for their show. The same place that lights up when heartbroken people look at a photo of their former romantic partner. And even the same active spot when you're waiting for someone to like your dating profile or your Facebook status. Now, all these habits are based on three elements: a trigger, a behavior and a reward. For me, the trigger was anxiety about my future. The behavior was eager. It distracted me from that uncomfortable feeling of anxiety. And the reward was the dopamine that was released. The emotion I felt about that.

Ancient Buddhist psychologists call this neurological loop Samsara or “endless wanderer.” We begin to confuse feelings of anticipation with joy. I dated over 100 men. I became excited anticipating the sex I knew I wouldn't have and the loss that eventually followed the feelings of that loss. Research on prolonged grief shows that people who never get over a loss, who never let go, may be activating neurons in the reward centers of their brain when they repeatedly recall memories of their lost loved ones, living or dead. I felt just as emotional remembering the pain of the day my grandfather died.

Like remembering the pain I felt the day the emergency room doctor stood me up at a concert in Detroit. And the same pain I felt the day I received a letter from a college boyfriend breaking up with me from the other side of the world. And this remembering the day the soldier was sent to Iraq. So what happens when you discover that you'd rather feel pain than nothing at all? You allow your heart to hurt enough to make a change. When I was 40, I started writing this kind of prayer in my journal: “I am ready and worthy of a deeply intimate and loving relationship.” I wrote it every night.

At age 41, I broke down with nostalgia when I gave a

healthy

relationship with a man who loved me a chance. Now, it was a slow process. Sometimes it actually seemed too easy. Where was the fear that he would leave me? Where is the anxiety that you associated with love? Over time, my attraction to their transparency, availability and kindness grew. I trusted him before I loved him. A few months after dating, Dave told me, "You're worth waiting for." And he'd heard that from other kids before, and they soon lost interest. And then, about five months after dating, Dave took my hand and said the most intimate thing any man had ever said to me: "You are worthy of love." I cringed.

I didn't believe him. I wanted to escape from that situation. But instead, I sat in this very unfamiliar and uncomfortable place, learning to receive love and return love with the man who stood in front of me with open arms. Scariest thing I've ever done. About eight months into dating, my 100-year-old grandmother Velda called me and said, "Do you think he's the one?" “I don't know,” I said. She said, "Well, how would you feel if he left you?" Her husband had died when they were 55 years old. “Maybe he should do it. And then I would know.”, I told him.

You see, we are programmed to long until there is the threat of losing something we love. About a year after dating, we got married at her bedside in the hospital three days before she left us. The law of scarcity triumphs over desire. You buy those tickets to Paris when there are only two seats left. When there is an urgent feeling that the clock is ticking, you get involved. “So, what about sex?” you ask me. (LAUGHTER) It was never about sex. Just like anorexia is not about food. And when my two-year-old daughter asks me in her teens about my journey toward intimacy, I will tell her that it wasn't bad to have waited to have sex in a committed, loving relationship.

What was self-destructive was chasing the unavailable men and the impossible plot. Looking obsessively at the past and future, she almost longed for the opportunity to have a healthy relationship and have a child out of my life. She see, when we idolize a person or place we have never seen, we create a bigger hole than any person or place could fill. We give him too much power. I will tell my daughter, "You can't be attracted to a healthy, loving relationship until you stop longing for the perfect relationship." And how do you do that? How can you have a relationship with longing that is rooted in food and not suffering?

You accept that no person, place or thing will complete you. You trust in Providence. And realize that you are not in control. You believe you are worthy of love. I mean, really believe it. And you learn to receive love. And stop wishing for it. Thank you. (Applause) (Applause)