It’s natural to feel ‘needy’ after a divorce

Now that I'm in the process of getting divorced and thinking about the future and new relationships, I'm realizing the emotional deficits I've accrued as a result of many years of bad marriage. I think the proper term for those of us with such deficits is needy. Being needy can impair one's relationship judgment and can also be a turnoff to others in the dating pool. I've heard people say that divorced people should wait a year to heal and I've heard others say not to wait. What advice do you have for us needy people? What can I do to understand and remedy the emotional weaknesses I've developed? T.F., Detroit

First, let's examine the word "needy." Because, while this word is mostly understood to be a pejorative -- a self-criticism -- it's not that simple. "Neediness" is a double-edged sword. A paradox. A necessary balancing act.

Who isn't needy? That is, what human being doesn't have needs? I'm aware that this culture has a deep collective ego-investment in the ideal of self-sufficiency. Rugged Individualism, "pull yourself up by your bootstraps," the endless pursuit of the question, "Who am I?" But it's absurd. A distortion. Achieving independence might be a good thing, politically speaking. But it's a hapless illusion, interpersonally speaking.

The more courageous human work is to recognize our finitude, our needs, and then to find the personal competence required to participate in interdependence and, in some moments of time, dependence. Like, say, right after a mastectomy. Or right after the doctor has amputated your leg because of diabetes.

It's amazing how often people fall in love, get married, and then set about making sure that their spouse knows how much they don't need him/her. But of course, it's really themselves who they are reassuring.

It's very "hip" to say, "I love you but I don't need you" ... "I'd be fine without you." But I'm more interested in authentic intimacy than I am in being hip. And intimacy means understanding and cherishing how I need my mate. How, if she were gone, I'd likely scratch and claw and crawl my way back to "fine," but for a while, I wouldn't be fine at all.

Yes, of course, some people bear a neediness that is observably childish, even rightly described as regressive, infantile. This kind of neediness is, for sure, unattractive. Try to court, date, or marry someone whose wounds are this deep, and you'll be swallowed whole in a maelstrom. Not to mention that no amount of loving these people will succeed in supplying what they need. The work in front of these people is very much an "in-house job."

But, I'm thinking this doesn't describe you. You say "weaknesses I've developed." Isn't it simpler and more accurate to say that your heart is broken? And, if I'm right about that, then, yes, grief is a kind of neediness. That is, grief connotes a need in us. Specifically, the need to grieve!

So, ask the question this way: Are people whose hearts are freshly broken by failed relationships ideal candidates for new dating relationships? Uh, no. Honestly? In the first six to 12 months during/after a divorce, most people ought to have a sign stapled to their foreheads that says, "Run Away Screaming." Not because grieving, brokenhearted people are bad people, but because they are disabled people. The wise ones put themselves on dating probation for a while. They sit quietly with their sadness. Breathe it in. Breath it out. They find their tears. They mourn.

Attending faithfully to grief is what heals grief. With every honest tear we get stronger. In this way we are made ready for another chance. Another hope of great love.

Then again, loneliness is a powerful, driving force. You wouldn't be the first divorced man to amen yourself to "Get Well Relationships," also called "Bridge Relationships." Some of these relationships can even be tender, loving and meaningful. But, once they provide a bridge from Point A to Point B, bridge relationships tend to founder.

You also could deploy the tried and true "Get Well With A Vengeance" model, burning your way through dates and a handful of romps. Sexual solace, I call it. But this strategy almost always protracts grief, mostly because it distracts you from the "soul work" at hand.

The woman you long to meet will meet your authentic interpersonal needs, and gently, ever so gently, encourage you in the work of meeting needs only you and your Maker can attend. Until then, be very, very gentle with yourself, my brother.

You've been run over by a train.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at 227-4165 or skalas@reviewjournal.com.