The Things Between Us | Part Four
There's something rather beautiful about a boomerang.
It travels away from where it started. It moves through space, follows its own trajectory, and, under the right conditions, makes its way back.
Not because it never left.
But because leaving and returning are both part of its movement.
I think relationships have something to teach us about that.
Somewhere Along the Way, We Become Ourselves
Early in a relationship, closeness can feel almost effortless.
We want to spend time together. Know everything about each other. Share experiences, routines, opinions, and occasionally an entire personality.
We become an us.
And that's lovely.
Until life starts asking a slightly more complicated question:
But who am I in all of this?
Maybe you discover that you need more time alone than your partner does.
Maybe parenthood changes your sense of identity.
Maybe you begin pursuing something that matters deeply to you, even though your partner doesn't quite understand it.
Or maybe, after years of making decisions as a unit, you realize you haven't asked yourself what you actually want in a very long time.
These moments can feel threatening to a relationship.
Because when someone starts moving toward themselves, their partner may experience it as moving away from us.
But those aren't necessarily the same thing.
The Difference Between Distance and Disconnection
We tend to treat distance in relationships as something to worry about.
If we're not spending enough time together, sharing enough interests, or wanting the same things, something must be wrong.
But healthy intimacy doesn't require two people to remain constantly intertwined.
Sometimes a little distance gives us room to recognize ourselves again.
To develop interests that aren't shared.
To have thoughts that aren't immediately negotiated.
To experience the world as an individual, not only as somebody's partner.
And here's the part we sometimes forget:
Having a separate self doesn't automatically make us less available for connection. Sometimes it makes us more available for it.
Because there's a difference between staying close because separation feels unbearable and coming close because you genuinely want to.
One is organized around fear.
The other makes room for choice.
Coming Back as a More Developed Me
This is where the boomerang comes in.
In the developmental movement of relationships, there can be a period of discovering who we are outside of the we.
Not necessarily physically leaving. Not abandoning the relationship.
But developing a stronger sense of self within it.
And then something interesting becomes possible.
We can turn toward our partner again.
Not to disappear back into the relationship.
Not to return to the version of ourselves who agreed with everything or needed constant reassurance.
But to bring more of who we've become into the connection.
Here I am.
Still me.
Still you.
And I want to find my way toward you.
That kind of intimacy feels different.
It asks us to hold two truths at once: I am my own person, and I am part of something we are creating together.
Choosing You Is Different From Needing to Lose Myself for You
There is something deeply romantic about being chosen.
Not because you're the only person who can make someone feel okay.
Not because your partner has no life, interests, or identity outside the relationship.
But because they have a sense of who they are, and they want to share that life with you.
Of course, this isn't always easy.
One partner's independence may stir up the other's fear of being left behind.
One person's desire for closeness may feel like pressure to the other.
And sometimes we mistake the discomfort of growing into two distinct people for evidence that we're growing apart.
But the goal isn't to eliminate those differences.
It's to become more capable of staying connected while allowing them to exist.
To say, I don't have to become you to love you.
And perhaps even more importantly:
You don't have to become me to stay.
The Return Is an Invitation
A boomerang doesn't offer us a perfect metaphor. People aren't objects following predictable flight paths, and relationships don't guarantee that every movement away will lead to a return.
But I love what the image invites us to consider.
What if making room for individuality wasn't the opposite of intimacy?
What if becoming more fully ourselves gave us something richer to bring back to our relationships?
And what if, instead of asking our partners to stay exactly as they were when we fell in love, we became curious about who they are becoming?
Because the most meaningful version of us may not be the one we started with.
It may be the one we keep choosing as we grow.
Not two halves trying to make a whole.
But two whole, evolving people finding reasons to turn toward each other.
Again and again.
Not because we have to come back.
Because we want to.
