By Leah Rockwell, LPC, LCPC,Published: Aug 25, 2022, Every Monday, I wake up at 5:45 am and I drive, half-asleep, to a local pool for my morning laps, my every-other-day routine for more than 20 years. I swim in complete silence, the water blissfully making conversation impossible. I breathe deeply, sinking into my body’s rhythm, slowly awakening over the course of those 30 minutes. Then I melt into a warm shower, followed by a cup of coffee in solitude. Before daybreak, I relish the peace of not answering any questions or coordinating who’s responsible for packing lunches or doing the day’s grocery run, surrendering to this daily self-reflection practice before transitioning into my workday. And I’m able to do this despite having two daughters, ages 15 and 12, plus a committed partner with three teenage boys of his own. How? My partner and I don’t share a home, unwittingly joining the Living Apart Together (LAT) movement, and I can have these mornings when my kids are with their other parent.
Ben and I began dating several years ago, as each of us were mired in the midlife chaos of divorce and co-parenting, grieving the deaths of lives envisioned that never quite materialized. We were messy and untidy, raw and fragile, brittle and hollow. But in each other, we saw hope for order and fulfillment, if only we were willing to think differently about how to conduct our relationship.
Those who knew about us early on told us how adorable our “Brady Bunch” set-up might be; at face value, this party of seven might seem like a cute idea. Though there was validation in others’ belief that our crew had the makings of a '70s sitcom, the image of a blended family, to me, was one that was muddy and unappealing.
While I was falling deeply in love with Ben, I had pledged to be radically honest with myself and with him about my emotional truth, something that I had repeatedly failed to do during my marriage. Though I loved him, I was not remotely enamored with the idea of combining lives, families, finances, or homes. After my divorce, I realized how much I thrive on setting boundaries around my time and space; applying this same concept to my relationship, for me, has been the key to its endurance.
Five years later, this same partnership thrives. Ben and I each live in our own homes just a mile away from one another. Our co-parenting lives are designed so that we each have our children for two weeks at a time. When the kids are with their other parents for the following two weeks, we are mostly free to be together. Sometimes I invite him to stay with me; sometimes I stay with him. Occasionally, we overnight at a small home we bought together an hour away, which we like to refer to as “our baby,” the only shared legal venture we’ll likely ever have together.
On many nights, though, we are each alone. We have periods of time in which the busyness of our daily lives, especially raising teenagers, leaves us with a need to slow down and take time to recharge. By living apart, I have space for deep reflection about my life, about our relationship, and about both our shared and separate futures. I now have an unanticipated chance to listen to who I am and to sing out what love means to me.
I like to believe that the level of individuality that we maintain provides a buffer against what psychologists call the “hedonic adaptation treadmill.” In an episode of The Happiness Lab podcast titled “The Unhappy Millionaire,” Dr. Laurie Santos describes the concept as gradually becoming desensitized to experiences that initially brought us joy. For example, if you’re a chocolate lover as I am, you might agree that the first bite of that triple chocolate decadence cake is divine, all things rich and creamy. But by bite eight, we’re ready to set down the fork and push the plate away, the sweetness of the cake now cloying or the cocoa taste far too bitter, our tongues now exhausted by the same continuous flavor.
The writer and her partner have arranged their co-parenting agreement so they have two weeks at a stretch without kids.
But because of our living arrangement and the overall flexibility in our relationship, I haven’t gotten desensitized to my time with Ben. Every time I see him, I appreciate the way he greets me, nearly always with a firm yet gentle kiss. And, while our goodbyes are gloomy, when we make plans to meet again, I feel the rush of anticipation, akin to that moment when one finally sits down to a lovely, painstakingly prepared meal at the end of an arduous day.
Heather Dempsey, also in an LAT relationship, says that after buying a home and living together for three years, she and her partner of (now) seven years decided to un-cohabitate. Though she misses waking up to his hugs and sometimes longs for nighttime cuddles, she acknowledges that separation has actually created for them a stronger and more deliberate space for emotional connection, something that physical proximity to one another sometimes stood in the way of.
“We have a really powerful attraction, with very similar insecurities and fears, so we trigger each other at the drop of a hat,” she says. Living apart, she notes, means they can take some space and react more logically and patiently to each other, rather than experiencing the volatile interactions they had when they were always in the same room. “When we lived together, I also spent most of my time and attention on him, what he was doing, what he might want and what I could do to get more of his attention,” she adds. “But now that we’re separate, I have my attention on other things.”
Ann Turner, PhD, LICSW, CEAP, a couples and family therapist who works with and is part of a blended family herself (as a child and now as an adult) shares that not living with a partner can indeed have major benefits, especially for those who desire partnership but perhaps not in all areas of their lives. “The LAT relationship model is a great idea for couples where each person wants their independent time and space while also having the advantages of being in an exclusive, long-term partnership," she says. "The set-up usually includes sleeping and/or spending time at each other’s homes for some nights of the week but not living together full time."
"Single parents who have children may find this particularly helpful because they can nurture the couple part of their relationship while also keeping their single parent role and time with their own children separate from the other person," she adds. "The LAT model also replicates what many had before they had their children, a chance to get to know and connect with your partner without the ‘noise’ of dealing with kids in the mix.”
I don’t expect everyone to understand my LAT relationship, and I fully acknowledge that we are very privileged to be in a financial position in which this lifestyle is even a choice. But nearly five years in, there’s comfort in no longer trying to explain what works for us, and the more that I surrender to the relationship as it is, the more I embrace its truths. I relish each kiss hello when we reunite. I appreciate knowing that I’m the only one to blame for an empty toilet paper roll. I know that a streak-free countertop will remain so for at least a few hours after dinner. I don’t miss negotiating who has more stuff in the entryway closet, and I certainly feel zero regret at having a bathroom sink upon which rogue whiskers have no home. Zero.
There’s comfort in no longer trying to explain what works for us.
But it’s the relational wins that outweigh the superficial annoyances that we avoid by not cohabitating. For me, I’ve come to prefer joy with only a small side dish of turmoil; being in an LAT relationship has been the answer. It demands intentionality and a daily, deliberate commitment to showing care for one another, making the effort that isn’t a natural byproduct of shared space.
Perhaps there will be a time when this approach no longer works. Maybe it will become too fragmented, not satiating or just too logistically complicated to maintain very separate lives between two emotionally intertwined souls. For now, I’ll just keep savoring every moment of my life and love, each in its own space and season.
Leah Rockwell,
LPC, LCPC is a licensed professional counselor in PA and MD, providing
online counseling for women from a feminist and somatic-based
orientation. In former lives, she was a Spanish language and sex
education instructor, a school counselor and administrator, a wine
vendor and she is pretty sure she was a mermaid.
Source: https://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a40967196/living-apart-together/
