I'm a Psychologist, I See 5 Common Traits Following Breakups

Over the course of the last decade, new ideas about breakups have surfaced, one of which being conscious uncoupling. These ideas help us to be intentional with breakups, and to rethink how to move on after a relationship has ended.

Research about the emotional stages of breakups is flourishing, and stereotypes about gender differences in breakups are being considered. But what about how we actually handle break ups?

As a psychologist, I'm convinced that we are missing something important when thinking about breakups.

In the course of my work as a therapist, I've helped dozens of couples consciously break up. Standing at the cliff's edge of relationships has shown me that understanding what happens when they fail is more important in restoring happiness, than putting them behind us.

Breakup workshops, therapists, online groups, and friends implore us to "let go", "move on", and "reconnect with ourselves."

Conflicting messages abound: "Allow yourself time to grieve, move on right away, don't stay friends, do stay friends, explore online dating, don't get back online until time has passed."

All this advice is well-intentioned, of course, but of limited value.

The focus is on the future, on the next thing, rather than the moment at hand. But breakups can be windows into how we form our deepest attachments, and why they may fracture.

Closing that window too quickly, without spending some time to look within, is a wasted opportunity for growth. Endings draw out our most primitive and fearful selves.

Inspired by psychologists John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth's theory of attachment styles—avoidant, anxious and disorganized—I coined five distinct breakup traits that I've noticed in my patients—not including abuse—that have helped me better understand how to counsel them.

The Victim

I once had a 53-year-old patient who came to see me about her faltering relationship. She complained about feeling unseen and invalidated in her marriage for a decade.

Her regular, angry fights with her husband brought her to tears and rage in almost every session. Finally, one day, she told me that her husband had asked for a divorce.

She said, "How could he do this to me? Why doesn't he want me? Why won't he stay? What did I do wrong?"

My patient was exhibiting the "victim" style of breakup.

The victim swings between feeling wronged, deserving better and blaming themselves. They want a close relationship but struggle with issues of trust.

When the end comes, they are often bitter, believing that their partner has taken something from them, even if they initiated the breakup.

The victim is generally deep in their own viewpoint—they might not be a narcissist, but their stance may appear to be narcissistic.

In my experience, the victim often has parents who didn't set firm enough boundaries when they were young, leaving them without emotional anchors.

I counseled my patient, allowing more space for her partner's experience. I advised her to ask herself: "What responsibility do I hold for the disintegration of the relationship?" Instead of blaming him, or herself, I then advised her to concentrate on fostering a sense of empathy and discovering what needs may not have been met on both ends, that could be better next time around.

The Martyr

Another patient, this one much younger, came into my office already wracked with sobs. "My boyfriend is moving to Seattle, so we split up," she wailed in our first meeting. "Of course this would happen to me!" She threw up her hands. "I just don't get to have good things. And I never will."

This patient was a classic "martyr." The martyr sees the breakup as proof that they are undeserving of happiness. They often sink into the comfortably uncomfortable arms of depression.

The martyr, like the victim, is closed off to input and similarly inflexible. They might have had parents who were withholding, invalidating or under-involved. They have a history shrinking themselves to feel tolerable to the people around them, and are more comfortable giving than taking.

I worked with my tearful patient on practicing taking up more space in her relationships. She might ask herself: "What is at stake for me personally if I develop my own voice and ask for my needs to be met in my future relationships?" Martyrs should question in what ways they get gratification through self-abnegation.

The Denier

"Ok, so she had an affair. Sure, it was for three years," sighs a middle-aged gentleman, sitting on my office couch.

"And it was with your friend," I point out.

"But it's not such a big deal," he responds.

The denier avoids reality and tunes out their hurt and anger. They often minimize what did not work in the relationship and idealize their partner's good intentions.

There is usually a brittle edge to the denier's distortions of reality. They often have a history of secrets in their family that they are unconsciously terrified will spill out.

Detachment that might have helped them survive a chaotic or traumatic childhood becomes destructive in their intimate relationships. Suppressing the pain of their breakup is an unfortunate outgrowth of their family history.

The denier, like my patient, should ask themselves: "How am I running away from intimacy?" They should investigate why expressing emotion—particularly anger—scares them so. Also, they might take a closer look at what would happen if they allowed themselves to feel all the emotions they're so determined to avoid.

The Bewildered

"I don't know what happened—he's just not living in the house anymore," my patient tells me about her husband.

"Did he say anything?" I ask.

She looks at me blankly, appearing curiously detached. "I have no idea."

Having no idea about something so seemingly important is a sure red flag that my patient has a "bewildered" style of break up.

The bewildered are very confused by a breakup and respond to loss by becoming paralyzed. They are often unable to conduct basic activities like sleeping and eating. Their childhoods may have been rife with fear, or perceived fear.

Their caregivers, who were supposed to be protectors, instead might have left them insecure or even instilled terror. The bewildered usually have deep fears of abandonment.

Because they are so detached from themselves, the bewildered should seek outside help or guidance. They should be pushed to ask themselves: "What red flags in my relationships have I been ignoring?" They should also explore the attention they are paying to their own suffering.

The Visionary

"I'm so sad about this I can't stand it," my patient cried into her hands.

"Well, I think you're made of stronger stuff than that," I told her. "I know that this is hard, but I also think you can stand it."

"I am strong, aren't I?" she looks up, her eyes shining. "I will be ok, I think."

"Yes, but also—let's explore how you can grow from this."

The visionary sees breakups as opportunities. They allow in anger, depression, and fear because they see these emotions as constructive.

"Moving on" for them becomes a chance to refine what they do—and don't— want in a relationship, and why. They generally had a childhood that encouraged self-reflection and emotional flexibility.

The visionary should continue to deepen their ability to learn from the grief that accompanies loss. They should track the emotional patterns that their breakup revealed and give words to the meaning of these patterns.

They will benefit from asking themselves: "What makes me feel most seen in relationships, and how do I get that in my next one?"

My work with couples has convinced me that breakups are never just about endings or losses—they are about identity.

Yes, it's incredibly sad and complicated to lose someone with whom you've shared love and intimacy, whether you are ready to let go or not. But the hardest part about breakups is answering the question: Who am I now?

Understanding your breakup style can help you recognize your limiting patterns—and lay the groundwork for breaking out of them.

Sarah Gundle, PsyD, is a psychologist in private practice and an assistant professor at the Icahn School of Medicine, Mount Sinai Medical Center. She is currently writing a book about breakups.

All views expressed are the author's own.

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