When Love Requires Distance

Not all love expressions involve closeness. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do for someone or for ourselves is to create space, to step back, to love from a distance that allows both parties to breathe and grow.

This counterintuitive aspect of love appears throughout my poetry collection, particularly in the image of two mountains: "We climb our separate mountains, / sometimes in fog, sometimes in sun, / calling to each other across the valley." True intimacy, I've learned, requires the courage to maintain our individual journeys even within the context of a relationship.

Our culture often conflates love with merger, as if healthy relationships require the dissolution of individual boundaries. We're taught that couples should share everything, agree on everything, and want to spend all their time together. But this kind of fusion often leads to suffocation rather than satisfaction.

I've experienced both sides of this dynamic. There have been relationships where I lost myself completely, becoming so focused on the other person's needs, moods, and preferences that I forgot my own. There have also been times when I've clung so tightly to someone else's attention that I inadvertently pushed them away through my very desperation to stay close.

The wisdom of loving distance reveals itself gradually. Sometimes we need space to remember who we are outside of the relationship dynamic. Sometimes the other person needs room to work through their own challenges without feeling responsible for our emotional state. Sometimes the relationship itself needs breathing room to evolve naturally rather than being forced into premature intimacy.

This doesn't mean emotional abandonment or withdrawal as punishment. Loving distance is characterized by continued care and respect, but with appropriate boundaries. It's the difference between saying "I need some space to process this" and "I'm done with you." It's choosing temporary separation to preserve long-term connection.

One of my poems explores this paradox: "The distance between us / not a failure but a necessity." When we honor the natural rhythms of closeness and space, relationships can breathe. We avoid the suffocation that comes from constant togetherness and the resentment that builds when individual needs are consistently sacrificed for couple unity.

I've learned to recognize when distance is called for - when conversations become circular, when emotions are running too high for productive communication, when I'm feeling overwhelmed by someone else's energy, or when I notice myself losing touch with my own needs and desires.

The key is communicating our need for space clearly and kindly, without making the other person wrong for triggering that need. "I need some time to think about this" is very different from "You're too much to handle right now." The first creates space for processing; the second creates distance through judgment.

Sometimes loving distance is temporary - a few hours, days, or weeks to allow emotions to settle and perspective to return. Sometimes it's more permanent, as when we realize that staying close to someone consistently brings out our worst selves or theirs.

In all cases, the intention matters. Are we creating space from love or from fear? Are we stepping back to gain clarity or to punish? Are we honoring our needs or avoiding our responsibilities?