Love Lives Where the Theories End

Her voice was fast-paced, tumbling out without pause. I had already sat through five minutes of her voice note — and she just kept going.

“And I had to tell him, you know? That he was triggering my mother wound. That as a kid I was constantly criticized, and every time he does the same, that memory comes rushing back. Our therapist has brought it up too — even asked him what he gains from this, but he always dodges the question. I’ve asked him to open up, because we need to figure out how to heal this between us, we are just mirroring each other…”

And look — it’s not that I don’t love her. I do. She’s one of my dearest friends and we’ve walked through a lot together. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t already on 2x speed halfway through.

When the never-ending message finally ended, I replied:

“Sweetie… you really need to stop therapizing your relationship. It will kill her.”

She never replied to that message. And honestly, I kind of felt bad about it. But I also felt that someone had to tell her this.

Life went on. I had forgotten about it —until three months later, the relationship was dead.

Of course, we had the funerary post-breakup calls. The rituals. The debriefs. The overthinking. And in one of them, through tears, she said:

“You were right. I should’ve stopped over-therapizing the relationship. I killed it.”

“No, sweetie,” I said gently, knowing the ache all too well. “It was not you: The therapeutic industry killed it.” Sadly a new victim I thought.

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Originally, I’m an architect and a very good project manager. Twelve "failed" relationships and my deep desire to love immensely have brought me here, and I’ve ended up blending my passion for philosophy with all the learning I've gained from these breakups.

Have I studied? Oooofff, I have. Certifications, books, workshops, retreats, therapists, counselors, coaches, healers, shamans, witches, oracle cards, mantras, praying, rituals, hypnosis, energy work… you name it. I have consumed it all. One day, I even thought about calculating how much money I had spent on this journey, but I realized how painful that number would be, so I decided to stop. For my mental health.

I’m not saying that none of it "worked." I’ve gained tons of things from it: tons of self-awareness, new understanding around relationships, met incredible people, made new humorous mistakes, and even built a successful practice. Has it helped me find and keep that perfect everlasting relationship? Not really. 

But it has given me something else: a clear view of the machinery behind the industry its lights and its shadows. One that has made me stop consuming it: The old trick of the stick and the carrot.

There was always something wrong—either with me, the relationship, or my partner.

Either I hadn’t healed enough, hadn’t changed the pattern in time, or the relationship wasn’t entirely well, or functional, or he had some label that psychology slapped on him (and by the way, those labels are often extremely harsh).

There was no way I could ever make it work, but there was always the possibility of a new, expensive something.

To be honest, I don’t think I ever went full-on and forced my partners in any way to engage of all this thing; maybe I've tried to do some check ins and date nights, mostly I was really focused on my own stuff. But I’ve definitely experienced the side effect of hyper-growth culture — where love becomes a project, connection becomes a workshop, and relating becomes a performance of conscious perfection. And I can attest:

It doesn’t attract love. In fact, it can kill it.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m not saying it’s all trash. I’m saying it will never create real love. And there’s a reason for that.

See, all these theories and tools were created for a reason (and no, not just for consumism). They were created to analyze behaviors, patterns, and conduct. And while some of them are really amazing for building self-awareness, among other things, they’re missing something that shouldn’t be left out of these conversations: love.

So we buy into them, trying to fix, solve, make it work… but we’re not actually being inspired — or taught — how to love better.

And it’s not that these disciplines are evil or have bad intentions. They just weren’t created for love. That’s not their nature. What they’re trying to do is get us all to behave — or aspire to behave — in a certain way that aligns with the “acceptable” relationship frameworks our cultural conditioning finds convenient.

Conduct training? Yes. Love? Not really.

A great business model — healing that never quite ends.

And when you bring all this stuff back home? Think about it — would you really feel loved or inspired if your partner treated you like a pet that needs training? Or a problem to be solved? Or held you to such an unrealistic standard that you're bound to fail again and again?

And we still wonder why so many men avoid relationships and commitment. Maybe it’s because love has become a checklist — red flags, attachment styles, games, strategies. But let’s be honest: most of these theories keep us in fear and control. And in order to keep up, we don’t love — we manage, we perform, we manipulate.

But love… Love is a whole different language.

It lives in the heart. It softens. It gives. It trusts. It’s not about getting something in return. It’s not about fixing anyone. It’s not about analyzing everything to death.

Love is what remains when we drop the fear, the theories, the mind games.

And it's free. In every single expression of the word.

If it does not live in our human behaviors theories, where does it live? This one we don't like but yes, in religions, philosophies, some forms of art and most importantly: in your heart.

So here’s my suggestion: Be present. Be open.

 Talk about your stuff with your therapist, cry it out with your friends — but treat your relationship as an altar of love. A sacred space. One where fear and manipulation are not welcomed. Your relationship is not a therapeutic container.

Spend more time doing the things you did when you first fell in love. Not because you're trying to recreate the past — but because presence is what keeps love alive.

Let your relationship be alive — not perfect. Don’t let it become a performance. Don’t get lost in the constant pressure to grow, fix, or reach some ideal. Allow growth to arise naturally, through self-awareness and curiosity.

Don’t over-therapize the love out of your connection. Feel it. Experience it. Let it breathe.

It may not look perfect from the outside, but trust me — it will feel a whole lot more alive.

What would change in your relationship if you approached it as a living altar of love, instead of a project to fix?