The Problem of Tenderness
More wisdom from St. Pope John Paul II on right--vs. wrong--relationships
Tenderness—the ability to become one (“enter into”) the emotions, interior world, and spiritual life of another, and to express this outwardly through gestures of love and empathy.
In my article “The Right to Tenderness” I wrote:
Tenderness is the foundation of all Christ-centered relationships. Without tenderness, a relationship will wither, dry up, and die. It gives us the grace to intimately share in the life of another—to suffer with them during times of difficulty, and to rejoice for them during times of blessings. St. John Paul II calls this the “right to tenderness”—something we all deserve.
Unfortunately, tenderness is something that’s absent in toxic relationships. True kindness—in all its forms—requires empathy, and empathy is something individuals with unhealthy narcissistic tendencies usually lack. They’re too focused on their own perceived needs to be able to discern what others might be feeling or experiencing. They tend to be low on emotional intelligence, which makes it easy for them to ignore the fact that their actions and attitudes are hurting those they love.
St. Pope John Paul II, in Love and Responsibility, defines the essence of tenderness as “the tendency to make one’s own the feelings and mental states of another person.” But here’s the important part St. John Paul II adds to his words, the part everyone in an abusive situation needs to always keep in mind: “It can display itself only to those who can understand it and respond to it properly.”
This means that in order to receive tenderness, one must have the capacity to give it.
If an individual lacks the capacity to give tenderness, the tenderness they receive from others will be at best wasted, at worst used against them. They may weaponize their partner’s love as a further means of power and control.
This is what happens in abusive relationships. Again and again we give our tenderness in a relentless game of hope that someday our love will soften our partner’s heart, melt the hard stone, and cause him to wake up to the cruelty of his actions. Then (or so we hope), he’ll change, and by being willing to receive tenderness, he’ll find a capacity to give it in return.
Love will reign. Happily ever after. The end.
Except that’s usually not how things end. Even if a controlling individual does find the God-given humility to fully repent of their behaviors, there’s a very long, very hard road of recovery that will need to be traveled.
We can’t force tenderness. We can’t love someone into changing. Change comes from within, and it’s tough work. It requires a personal fiat that puts God at the helm, an admitting of one’s vulnerability and embracing humility. In other words, it takes a complete conversion.
In my book, Don’t Plant Your Seeds Among Thorns: A Catholic’s Guide to Recognizing and Healing From Domestic Abuse, I write about the Road to Damascus as an analogy for the path a person must take in order to transform their lives in such a rewarding and enormous way:
Authentic change must begin with a foundation of humility—and that’s one thing most people with heavy narcissistic traits can’t tolerate. Humility, honesty, openness, and a willingness to confess each and every abusive behavior and attitude are crucial components of change … After his Road to Damascus conversion experience, St. Paul used his God-given free will to authentically remove the abusive patterns in his life to completely reform. He gave up his control, his power, and his position for Christ … The Road to Damascus is the road to clarity, honesty, and self-examination. For a person to become a truly self-giving spouse, they have to fully acknowledge their abusive behaviors—all of them.
Special announcement:
I write not merely from a professional standpoint, but from personal experience. My husband and I have been through the fire, but thanks to the blessings of God—and my husband’s willingness to give his personal fiat and submit himself to the healing graces our Lord desires for him—healing has begun.
If you’re interested in reading more about our personal journey from abuse to living the sacramentality of a true mutual self-giving marriage, head over to my new Substack, Winter is Past. With St. Pope John Paul II as our guide, in the months and years to come my husband and I will be sharing our journey of wholeness and renewal after abuse and betrayal.
In order to find true tenderness in our lives—something we all must have, because our souls were made by Love to love and to be loved—we have to seek safe people that are capable of not just giving authentic tenderness, but of receiving it as well.
“Man’s capacity for love depends on his willingness to consciously to seek a good together with others, and to subordinate himself to that good for the sake of others, or to others for the sake of that good … Only someone who has dominion over himself can become a sincere gift of self for others.”
(St. Pope John Paul II, Love and Responsibility and “A Meditation on Givenness”)
Tenderness toward self may mean an in-house separation, leaving a toxic or dangerous situation, insisting upon boundaries and self-care, and relying on the help of safe friends and family.
When we lack tenderness in marriage, sorrow and grief are the natural results. We can’t talk ourselves out of grief, but we can save ourselves from undue suffering by accepting what is. We don’t have to like what is, and we certainly don’t have to tolerate abuse of any kind, but by understanding the facts of the present moment and allowing ourselves to admit the truth, we take the first step toward wholeness and healing.
To learn skills on radical acceptance, living in the present moment, and “taking all thoughts captive for Christ,” I encourage you to check out the CHRIST Program at Hope’s Garden. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions, or leave them below in the comments.