Sex and Relationship therapist and CICS colleague Lucy Frank, The YXologist, shared on a social media post recently that she had heard someone say ‘I can tell how much you love yourself by the partner you are with’. Lucy invited her followers to consider their responses to this comment, and to say whether they felt positively, negatively or neutrally about it.
Julie’s Response
When I read this comment it sent my thoughts into several different directions, all at once, and I have been contemplating it ever since.
One thought thread was that yes, ok, I can see the validity in that idea. If you love yourself you are, presumably, more inclined to choose a partner who would love and value you too. We have a cultural understanding that self-love and respect place us in a stronger position to establish healthy relationships with others. If we are securely attached to ourselves and hold ourselves with positive regard, we should know how to avoid damaging relationships with others. In this scenario, what the person observing the relationship would see is that your self-love is reflected in the loving, respectful decency of your partner.
Conversely, a low sense of self-love might lead us to make poor choices in a partner and to engage in damaging or unfulfilling relationships. In this case a person could observe your relationship and see your lack of self-love reflected in you being with a nasty, lazy, abusive, freeloading (insert negative adjective of choice) partner.
The ‘how much’ part of this comment sent me on another train of thought though. What if the ‘you’ in this comment loves themselves too much (whatever too much would look like) or so much that they prioritise themselves and their needs over and above those of their partner. In this version of events, the amount of your self-love would be reflected in having a passive, exhausted, martyred, neglected, sad, dissatisfied (again choose your adjective) partner. ‘You’ would be the Narcissus; so engrossed in yourself that you disrespect your partner.
My main response to this comment though was that I found it to be somewhat unfair. For me it has a ring of victim blaming to it. I thought about all of the people I have worked with who have started a relationship in good faith, only to find themselves partnered with abusers. People of all genders, who are not inherently low in self-worth, who had good enough childhoods, a circle of friends, jobs and hobbies, and who have unwittingly become connected to the wrong person. Abusers are well masked, charming people. If you are an open hearted, trusting person who has been raised to see the good in others, you are accidentally and inherently vulnerable to the ‘takers’ of this world. For me, the comment implies that if you love yourself enough you’d see these abusers coming. I’m not so sure that is true or fair. Remember that the skill set of an abuser is to disguise themselves long enough to establish power and control over others, or to take their money, resources and value away. Self-love is not an incontrovertible protective factor against people with bad intentions.
Lucy’s Response
Mmmm… all such interesting, thought-provoking and insightful reflections. And interesting to see how our world view depends, also, on our lived experience perhaps, as well as our therapeutic perspective as professionals.
I was a child who grew up in a household of pretty awful domestic abuse and was victim to observing it in all its horror. However, what I also observed was a mother that was not a ‘victim’ to me and never has been. She was manipulated, yes, she was controlled, yes, but ultimately found her voice, and her power to leave with me and my sister because something woke her up.
I think it’s important we help people to question their reality, to question their moral compass, not because we are ‘victim blaming’, but because there are victims and we must interject if we can.
Interestingly, I didn’t experience it as victim blaming at all. Blame wasn’t what came up for me. Radical truth was.
For me, the statement isn’t about shaming someone for being mistreated or suggesting that self-love is an impenetrable shield against abuse. I completely agree - coercion, charm, gradual control, trauma bonding, these are sophisticated dynamics.
What the statement speaks to, for me, is something quieter.
Not: how have you ended up here, but why are you still there?
At some point, when someone is being deceived we are faced with information. Patterns, discomfort, inconsistency. A feeling in the body.
And how we respond to that often reflects our relationship with ourselves – self-love is a threshold, something to listen to and shapes what we normalise, what we justify, what we over-function for and can tolerate.
And that’s the part that feels like radical truth to me. Not blame agency.
Because if we remove agency and create victimhood, we also remove power. And I don’t want people to feel powerless in their relational lives. I want them to feel able to look at their partnership and ask, honestly:
Does this reflect how I value myself now?
Sometimes the answer is yes, beautifully so. Sometimes it’s a no, and the recognition of change. Like my mum realised.
For me, the statement isn’t a moral judgement. It’s an invitation to self-inquiry.
And self-inquiry can be uncomfortable without being cruel.
I also appreciate your exploration of the “too much” self-love angle. Because hyper-independence, narcissistic traits, or defensive self-prioritisation can absolutely create relationships where a partner feels diminished. But even that isn’t about loving oneself “too much” potentially, it’s often about fragile self-worth masquerading as self-focus.
What I wanted when I posted it wasn’t agreement - it was exactly this: reflection. And you’ve offered that beautifully, thanks.
I’m curious - if you stripped shame out of the equation completely, what would the statement become?
I actually see “I choose myself” (agency) and “I can tell how much you love yourself by the partner you are with” (who am I in this relationship) sitting in the same family but landing very differently depending on tone and intention.
Because something does happen in relationships that’s important: We give. We soften. We compromise. We accommodate. That is intimacy. But slowly, sometimes quietly, parts of us can become eroded.
Not because someone is malicious.
But because loving someone often involves giving parts of yourself.
Self- love in adulthood isn’t just about avoiding harm. It’s about monitoring erosion.
Julie and Lucy
Like all things human, experience influences meaning making. For Julie this sentence landed in a space of being wary of victim blaming and for Lucy in a place of agency. Both of our perspectives are valid and we respect one another’s emphasis. Our centres of gravity are different but complimentary.
We’d love to hear how this sentence lands on you?
Authors Julie Sale and Lucy Frank: theyxologist.co.uk | IG @theyxologist
