We've started treating our romantic partners like unpaid mental health professionals, and somehow, we’re all on board with it. Somewhere between the self-help boom and the therapy-speak takeover of social media, we decided that a spouse should not only love us but also provide the kind of emotional labor that licensed therapists spend years learning to deliver.
Therapy Language Migrated into Everyday Relationships
Terms like "emotional labor," "gaslighting," and "trauma response" have become common vocabulary in relationship fights. These words have clinical meanings—specific ones at that. Now they get thrown around when someone forgets to text back or doesn't want to discuss their childhood for the third time this week.
We've taken the framework therapists use in controlled, professional settings and imported it wholesale into our living rooms. Your partner comes home from work, and instead of decompressing together, you're asking them to hold space for your anxiety about a work email. That's a lot to ask after they spent nine hours in meetings.
We've Lost the Community Support Systems
Sociologist Robert Putnam documented the collapse of American community structures in "Bowling Alone", showing how participation in social organizations, religious groups, and neighborhood gatherings has plummeted since the 1950s. All of this unmet emotional need has been funneled straight to our partners.
Your grandmother processed her stress with her sister over coffee, at choir practice, or during bridge club. She had built-in support systems that didn't depend on one person. We don't. To compensate, we dump everything onto whoever shares our Netflix password.
Actual Therapy Became Both More Acceptable and Less
The stigma around therapy has decreased significantly. This is largely a good thing, apart from the fact that the average cost of a therapy session now runs between $100 and $200, and many therapists don't take insurance. Those who can afford it are relegated to lengthy waitlists.
The gap gets filled by partners who didn't sign up for this. They're supposed to remember your triggers, validate your processing, provide unconditional positive regard, and never take things personally when you're "just venting." That's literally a therapist's job description.
We Think Every Feeling Deserves Immediate Processing
Instagram therapists and TikTok psychologists have convinced us that we need to verbally process every emotion as it happens. The moment you feel anxious, your partner needs to drop everything and discuss it with you.
The idea that you might just sit with a feeling, or work through it on a run, or wait until you've calmed down has become almost heretical. We've created relationships where emotional regulation is a team sport—always. Every minor upset requires a debrief.
We Confused Emotional Intimacy with Availability
Healthy relationships do involve emotional support, of course. Somewhere along the way, though, we started believing that good partners are always available for deep emotional work. There are no boundaries, no off hours, no ability to put off a heart-to-heart until the next day.
Therapists see clients for 50 minutes a week with clearly defined boundaries. We expect our partners to be on call 24/7, ready to provide therapeutic interventions while also remembering to pick up milk and figuring out what's for dinner. Then we're shocked when they feel burnt out or resentful, sighing audibly whenever they hear you say, "We need to talk."
