Here is the full transcript and summary of Amanda McCracken’s talk titled “How Longing Keeps Us From Healthy Relationships” at TEDxCU conference.
In this TEDx talk, journalist Amanda McCracken explores the concept of longing and its impact on our relationships. She shares personal experiences and discusses societal influences that contribute to the addictive and unhealthy nature of longing.
Listen to the audio version here:
TRANSCRIPT:
What are you longing for in this moment? Is it the father or mother you lost last year? Or maybe one you never had? Is it the child you wish to conceive? Or maybe the one who just left for college? Maybe it’s that beach on your bucket list or a past lover who haunts your dreams.
We long for the divine, for home, for youth, for nourishment. 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 soothe 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 boost, a naturally occurring antidepressant.
My friend with anorexia told me she fantasized about elaborate meals but never ate them. In a way, I understood. I was a 35-year-old virgin when I realized I was addicted to longing. By remaining starved, I could stay hungry, which somehow felt more satisfying than feeling nothing at all.
About 10 years ago, I started writing a letter to an ex-college boyfriend, trying to untangle my actions and desires and questions I had. That letter became an essay The New York Times published, 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 side-by-side with Katie as she asked me questions, mainly, “Why are you waiting for a loving, committed relationship to have sex?”
What she should have been asking me is why is it so hard to find such intimacy? The sexual revolution did a lot of women a disfavor by encouraging sexual freedom without the need for emotional intimacy. No matter how hard many of us try, most women are not programmed to be Samantha from Sex and the City, to have no-strings-attached sex where mutual consent is the only requirement.
The commercial break, Katie turned to me and said, you know, you just need to have sex. Everyone here at the studio thinks you have fairytale princess syndrome, that you’re just waiting for a knight in shining armor to sweep you off your feet. When I relay that story to most people, they respond in anger.
But in that moment, I felt shame, as if somehow I had been following the wrong script. I had 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 for both of us.
But I began to wonder if something was pathologically wrong with me. I mean, what could be wrong with longing, though? It’s inspired some of the greatest writers, musicians, artists. On my college bulletin board, I had this poem penned, titled “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” In it, the poet wrote, ‘Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.’
The 13th century Persian poet Rumi wrote, “Longing is the core of the mystery. Longing itself brings the cure.” But does it really? By the time I was a 40-year-old virgin, I found myself living in this unique purgatory. Longing for the ideal person at the ideal time in the ideal location kept me distracted from my fear of making an imperfect decision. It was a protective mechanism.
In a dating world where intimacy looks like maybe somebody returning your text after you’ve just met them in a drunken hookup, and you know how easy it is to fantasize about a person or a place when you have an incomplete picture. That’s why so many of us return to that highly addictive place of, what if?
I fell in love with emotionally and physically unavailable men. That captain of the Caribbean whose handlebar mustache tasted like rum. And that charming journalist who told me while we were still lying in bed, “I’m an asshole. Stay away from me.”
And the depressed artist who could never love me because he couldn’t love himself. And even the unhappy married man. I flew to Barcelona, Detroit, San Francisco, all in hopes of rekindling a flame. I had spent hours stalking on social media.
Friends, my longing consumed me. It defined me. I knew if I wanted to get into a healthy relationship, I had to change my patterns. And so as most journalists do, I sought out advice from a variety of experts, from psychologists to neurologists, rabbis to porn stars, sociologists to decision scientists.
And the fact that I entered the fifth decade of life, a virgin, definitely puts me in the minority. But idealizing the past and seeking the thrill of anticipation is exceedingly common. Longing is culturally and neurologically driven. Our materialistic society monetizes longing.
Media and technology hook us at a young age. Case in point, me with Cinderella at age eight. Comedies like Disney and TV shows like The Bachelor have us believing in some fantasy. And the words of the religious hymns that I grew up on reinforce longing for a superman. Savior, rescue, faith, surrender.
But I’m not blaming religion. Like many of my peers, I was drawn to movies and music where longing for a person or place distant is common. I bet over 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 out of the University of Toronto, psychologists coded over 800 billboard number one hits for their attachment themes.
They found that from 1946 to 2015, lyrics have grown increasingly more avoidant and less secure. Maybe you identify yourself up here somewhere. This reflects social disconnection, which is a catalyst for longing.
And if longing is a mental muscle, then the more we flex it, the stronger it gets. I was gripped by what decision science calls inaction inertia. Why say yes to one when you weren’t willing to say yes to one equally right? After all, how do you break a streak?
Most people with anorexia know that the reward is not the distorted image staring back at you in the mirror, but the addictive high from the habit of resisting over and over and over. And the seemingly infinite number of choices on dating apps had me believing I would eventually find the perfect partner. Psychologists call this choice overload theory. We keep looking and longing for a cheaper flight, a job with better benefits, a home and a better location.
And some keep looking for a better lover. Ashley Madison is the leading dating site for married individuals. Its tagline, life is short, have an affair, reflects its members’ beliefs that affairs help maintain their marriages. Members say that affairs are a great distraction and give them something to look forward to.
Longing anticipation. In one California real estate survey, 1,000 participants said they would rather browse Zillow for their dream home than have sex. Longing anticipation. We seek it out in different parts of our lives. These anticipation-inducing habits produce drug-like dopamine highs.
Neuroscience says that our brain is actually wired to crave what we don’t have. The happy hormone dopamine is released not when we get what we want, but when we anticipate getting it. That’s why studies show that our brains release more dopamine when we’re planning a vacation rather than actually taking it.
CU’s own neuroscientist Zoe Donaldson‘s research suggests that we are actually hardwired to long for past lovers. When these monogamous prairie voles are separate from their partners and running to reunite with them, that’s when a unique cluster of cells in the nucleus accumbens lights up. This is the same reward center in the brain that also lights up when cocaine and nicotine addicts are craving the drug. The same place that lights up when Netflix binge watchers are anticipating their show.
The same place that lights up when heartbroken people look at a picture of their former romantic partner. And even the same place active when you are anticipating somebody liking your dating profile or Facebook status. These habits are all based on three elements: a trigger, a behavior, and a reward.
For me, the trigger was anxiety about my future. The behavior was longing. It distracted me from that uncomfortable feeling of anxiety. And the reward was the dopamine that was released. The excitement that I felt from that. Which Buddhist psychologists call this neurological loop samsara or endless wandering. We begin to mistake feelings of anticipation for joy.
I dated over 100 men. I got off on the high of anticipating the sex I knew I wasn’t going to have. And the loss that eventually followed, the feelings of that loss. My research on prolonged grief shows that people who never get over 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, dead or alive.
I had the same high recalling the grief of the day my grandfather died as recalling the grief that I felt the day the ER doctor stood me up at a concert in Detroit. And the same grief I felt the day that I received a letter from a college boyfriend breaking up with me from the other side of the world and recalling the day that the soldier was deployed to Iraq.
So what happens when you find that you would rather feel pain than nothing at all? You allow your heart to hurt bad enough to make a change. When I was 40, I began writing this sort of prayer in my journal. I am ready for and worthy of a deeply intimate and loving relationship.
I wrote it every night. At the age of 41, I broke up with longing when I gave a healthy relationship a chance with a man who loved me. Now it was a slow burn. At times it actually felt too easy.
Where was the fear that he would leave me? Where was the anxiety that I associated with love? Eventually my attraction to his transparency and availability and kindness grew. I trusted him before I loved him.
A few months into dating, Dave said to me, you’re worth waiting for. And I’d heard that from guys before and they soon lost interest. And then about five months into 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 did not believe him. I wanted to run away 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 his arms wide open. Scariest thing I’ve ever done.
About eight months into dating, my 100-year-old grandma, Velda, called me. And she said, do you think he’s the one? I don’t know. I told her. She said, well, how would you feel if he left you? Her husband had died when they were 55 years old. Maybe he should.
And then I would know. I told her. You see, we are programmed to long until there is a threat of losing something we love. A year into dating, we married at her hospital bedside, three days before she left us.
The law of scarcity trumps longing. You buy those tickets to Paris when there are only two seats left. When there’s an urgent sense of a clock ticking, you engage. So what about the sex, you ask me?
It was never about the sex, just as anorexia isn’t about food. And when my two-year-old daughter asked me in her teen years about my intimacy journey, I will tell her it wasn’t wrong to have waited to have sex in a committed and loving relationship. It was chasing the unavailable men and the impossible plot that was self-destructive. By obsessively looking to the past and the future, I almost longed the chance for a healthy relationship and child out of my life.
You see, when we idolize a person or a place we’ve never seen, we make a bigger hole than anyone or any place could ever fill. We give it too much power. I will tell my daughter, you cannot be attracted to a healthy and loving relationship until you stop longing for the perfect one. How do you do that?
How do you have a relationship of longing that is rooted in nourishment and not suffering? You accept that no person, place, or thing will make you whole. You trust providence and realize you’re not in control. You believe you are worthy of love, and I mean really believe it.
When you learn to receive love and stop longing for it. Thank you.
SUMMARY OF THIS TALK:
Manda McCracken’s talk, “How Longing Keeps Us From Healthy Relationships,” explores the complex dynamics of longing and its impact on our relationships. Here are the key takeaways:
Nature of Longing: Longing can be a muse, offering comfort and a sense of control, but it can also become a crutch or even an addiction. McCracken illustrates this with her own experience and that of a friend with anorexia, highlighting how longing can manifest in different ways.
Personal Journey: McCracken shares her personal story, including her viral essay on virginity and the societal expectations surrounding sex and relationships. She discusses her appearance on “The Katie Couric Show” and the realization that societal norms often conflict with personal values and desires.
Societal Influences and Misconceptions: The talk delves into how the sexual revolution and media have shaped our views on intimacy and relationships. McCracken argues that not everyone is wired for no-strings-attached relationships and discusses the influence of media and technology on our perceptions of love and relationships.
Longing in Pop Culture and Psychology: McCracken references various cultural and psychological studies, including the shift in lyrical themes in popular music, to highlight how longing has evolved and its prevalence in our society.
Neuroscience of Longing: The discussion covers the neurological aspects of longing, explaining how the brain’s reward system is activated not by attaining what we want but by the anticipation of it. This is compared to addiction in various forms, including substance abuse and social media engagement.
Personal Patterns and Realizations: McCracken shares her own pattern of falling for unavailable men and her realization that her longing was a protective mechanism against making imperfect decisions. She also discusses the broader implications of longing in the context of dating apps and modern relationship dynamics.
Breaking the Cycle of Longing: The talk emphasizes the importance of recognizing and breaking free from the cycle of longing. McCracken shares how she changed her patterns, sought advice from various experts, and eventually entered a healthy relationship.
Embracing Love and Acceptance: The climax of her journey comes when she learns to accept and reciprocate love in a healthy relationship, overcoming her previous patterns of longing for the unattainable.
Lessons for Future Generations: McCracken intends to share her experiences with her daughter, highlighting the importance of distinguishing between healthy longing and self-destructive patterns. She advocates for a balanced approach to relationships, where longing is nourished but not at the expense of personal well-being.
Conclusion and Message: The core message of the talk is the recognition that no person, place, or thing can complete us. True fulfillment in relationships comes from accepting that we are already whole and deserving of love, and learning to receive love without the veil of longing.
In summary, McCracken’s talk is a deep exploration of how longing, while a natural and sometimes inspiring emotion, can hinder our ability to form healthy relationships when it becomes an obsession or a substitute for real intimacy. Her personal anecdotes and insights provide a compelling narrative on the journey to understanding and overcoming the pitfalls of longing.