The power of love: “Power doesn’t always have to be loud”

Johannas*, 27, history of power begins quietly and inconspicuously. After a painful, dependent emotional struggle, she manages to find the most important relationship again: the one with herself.

Trigger warning: The testimonials listed below deal, among other things, with sexual violence and could be disturbing to some people.

You can find contact points, advice and further information on the following sites, among others – anonymously and free of charge:

Telephone counseling, Violence against women helpline

Power has many faces. That’s why she’s so dangerous. She hides behind a mask of beauty, grace or wisdom. That’s why we often live with it for a long time without noticing it. I didn’t realize a man’s power over me for two years. I judge myself for it and at the same time I want to hug the person I was back then. Should I have defended myself? Shouldn’t I have recognized what others had already seen much earlier? Should I judge myself more harshly or forgive myself? Forgive that the hope that spread inside me like a parasite didn’t make me act differently? Every smile, every message, every rare kind gesture sparked hope. The hope that the man I loved so much would feel the same way about me. He just didn’t know it yet. Or wasn’t ready for it yet. But it would be him. If only I tried hard enough.

“The man I’m writing about met me when it was convenient for HIM”

Power doesn’t always have to be loud. Often she isn’t. She is quiet. She doesn’t want to be heard. That’s how it was in my case. The man I’m writing about stepped over one datingplatform in my life. We took several months to get to know each other. What fascinated me so much about him? That we could talk about a lot of things. But above all about our weaknesses and fears. At this point, I was having difficulty physically approaching men. He gave me the time I needed. I was able to build an emotional bond with him. Eventually we slept together. After that the contact changed. We still saw each other weekly and had in-depth conversations. But he kept me out of his life. I was rarely in his apartment. I didn’t know his friends. I didn’t know what he did during the week. And what he did when he didn’t report for days on the weekend. The man I am writing about met me when it was convenient for HIM. That is power. He left me when HE had enough. That is power. And he reached out again when HE felt lonely and needed someone to talk to. That too is power.

“My self-worth was lost”

A few months later he told me that he wasn’t looking for a relationship and wanted to sleep with other people. In the same breath, he assured me that although I was an important person to him, I wasn’t, on the whole, as interesting as all the other women in his circle. He feels the need to let off steam. Maybe in a few months he will be ready for a relationship. Despite these hurtful words – or perhaps because of them – hope remained. Because he would obviously feel something for me, right? I surrendered to his power. Saw him when he wanted to see me. Write to him if he wants to read from me. Slept with him when he wanted to sleep with me. When he noticed that I was pulling away, he pulled me even closer to him. We flew up. But the deep fall was not long in coming. After a year I broke off contact with him. But I couldn’t last long without him. A short time later we met again. According to his rules. Why did I go back to him? Because I had lost my self-worth. Because I only saw him. Nobody else. Because there were also those good moments. The man I am writing about was not the monster my friends thought he was. I alone knew his vulnerable nature. At least that’s what I told myself. At one point I was walking through the city like a zombie. The only thing that could give me a spark of life was meeting him. But they became rarer. The weeks passed and I disappeared. I couldn’t leave my bed anymore. There was no reason to get up. I fought. And I lost the battle in a painful way when he introduced me to his new girlfriend without asking.

“Sometimes I still think about him”

Once someone tells you that you’re worthless, you think about it. If this person tells you this regularly, then you already are. At least that’s what you think. After these two years, I had to learn the hard way that no human being is worthless. I was able to work through a lot of what happened with the help of therapy. But I still fight every day to stop losing myself. To love me. And to accept. I no longer have contact with the man I am writing about. He contacted me a few more times. I rejected him. Sometimes I still think about him. But hope died long ago. He doesn’t deserve her.

*the name is known to the editors

That’s what Prof. Dr. says Fatma Celik

Prof. Dr. Fatma Çelik is a qualified psychologist, researcher on psychology and (sexual) violence across the lifespan and lecturer at Düsseldorf University of Applied Sciences.

© Thomas Neitsch / Private

Prof. Dr. Fatma Çelik is a psychologist and, among other things, researches violence across the lifespan. It helps us to classify the experiences – to make power structures visible. Here she addresses a foreword to the readers.

Where do power structures come into play here?

Prof. Dr. Fatma Celik: Dear reader, I would like to address you directly before I respond more generally. From your lines I read a lot of regret and emotional pain about this time in your life. You write that you perceived the situation as a power situation. My assessment, as with all the other cases listed, can only relate to the small excerpt that I have here.

Based on this, I would like to bring in a different perspective: In this context, it could perhaps be less about power structures and more about very divergent bonding needs between two people. Various models of love have been developed in research. According to the triangular model of love according to Sternberg (1986), love is made up of the components passion, trust and commitment, i.e. the commitment to a person or a relationship or a relationship model. According to their statements, the author of the text and the man she described had different expectations of the time they spent together and different relationship models. It is unclear to what extent these different ideas were clearly communicated before the transition to physical intimacy, to what extent it was even clear to the two of them beforehand, and of course it remains unclear what difference it would have made. This can be very painful, but it is not yet an expression of power structures. Two points are potentially problematic in such a constellation with unequal expectations: 1. When one person, in order to fulfill their own interests, suggests to the other, against their better judgment, that they can still fulfill their desire for a relationship and 2. One person intentionally devalues ​​the other. The extent to which these points apply cannot be answered based on the description of the situation.

Love relationships, if they are ongoing, are commitment relationships. The author herself writes that she was able to build an emotional bond with the man. Children who experience rejection or emotional violence from their parents still have a bond with them. Even in relationships where violence is experienced, those affected by this violence often find it difficult to break away from violent partners. One reason for this may be relationship commitment (Johnson et al., 1999). The author in the case presented describes a very high level of personal commitment, i.e. a high level of commitment to maintaining this relationship, which is actually so hurtful to her. One reason for this may be that, as she writes herself, “At this point in time, I ‘had’ difficulties in physically approaching men.” Therefore, the author’s investment was possibly significantly higher than that of the man described (cf. investment model according to Rusbult, 1983). This also created an imbalance in the relationship.

How can the person affected deal with the experience?

Dear reader, you write about your daily “struggle” to love yourself. At this point I would like to introduce the term “self-compassion,” which was coined by Kristin Neff (2011). This is made up of three components: 1. kindness towards yourself, 2. connection and 3. mindfulness. Connectedness is understood as a “common sense of humanity”, i.e. the knowledge that one is not alone, not isolated. Not alone with very difficult experiences, not alone with feelings of guilt or shame that may arise. Mindfulness means focusing on the here and now, away from the past. We cannot change the past, but we can change the present and the future. This could possibly be a way of dealing with the experience.

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Bridget

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