Do we need a therapist to dump someone now? The rise of young couples in therapy

At the same time, so-called ‘therapy-speak’ has, for better and worse, become a day-to-day part of our vocabulary — especially among those of us who are extremely online. We all know, and are critical of, our various attachment styles; accusations of ‘red-flag behaviour’, ‘gaslighting’ and ‘narcissism’ are bandied around both online and off; and, for some, whether a potential partner is in therapy or not is a dating dealbreaker.

It makes sense, then, that couples therapy would start to be seen as a natural follow-on to all of this. After all, if you’re unpacking your partner’s anxious attachment behaviours in your own therapy anyway, why not get them to come and do it with you? Counselling charity Relate reported a 30% increase in clients in their 20s and 30s seeking couples therapy in the UK between 2014 and 2019.

So, what’s going on? Is this spike simply evidence of a positive desire for personal growth, or is it a sign that we’re desperately trying to cling on to doomed relationships? Do we now need an expert to step in and tell us when it’s time to just… dump someone?

The first hurdles

Before Pooja and Priesh started therapy, they were, in Pooja’s words, “not communicating”. It was September 2022, and they were about to move from Pooja’s home in New York to Priesh’s in London — a prospect Pooja in particular found overwhelming.

“There were a lot of stressors involved in terms of finances, housing, and careers,” she recalls. “We had all these different viewpoints of what to do, and so we would argue a lot. If one of us was irked by something the other had done, we tended to just brush it under the rug. But then something minor would happen and we’d blow up.”

Their therapist — a middle-aged white woman who Pooja describes as “neutral and objective” — encouraged them to start writing these annoyances down, and then meet once a week to go over them. “This gave us a dedicated time to really sit down and solve our frustrations.” The pair were also advised to start writing letters to each other about the positive things related to their move — for example, the prospect of travel, as the proximity of the UK to Europe would give them the ability to go on holiday more easily. “That was nice because it had been negative, negative, negative, and that [enabled us to see] the silver linings that we had to look forward to.”

That’s not to say the sessions were always simple. “There were definitely times when we were shouting at each other,” admits Pooja. “I was crying; he was pissed off. But we needed to be very honest, because that was the only way we’d be [able to navigate through it].”

While the pair knew that their reasons for going to therapy were valid, they still felt the stigma of it. “I was worried that if any of our friends or family found out that we were doing couples therapy just six months into our marriage, they would think that our relationship was doomed,” admits Pooja. Neither she nor Priesh told their friends they were doing couples therapy until after it was over — largely because they didn’t want the scrutiny. “It doesn’t always mean there’s something wrong with your relationship, but people [struggle] to see past that,” she adds.

Priesh, who, unlike his wife, has never done individual therapy, confesses that he was reluctant when Pooja first floated the idea, but says that the more he thought about it, the more his apprehensions went away. “My friends and I are beginning to get to a phase where we’re openly discussing our mental health, but I still like to keep aspects of my relationship private,” he says. “Speaking to a third party who’s impartial to either side [felt like it might be a helpful compromise].”

But while Priesh came around to it, there is, for many (heterosexual) couples, truth to the popular ‘Men would rather [insert activity] than go to therapy’ meme. According to a 2018 study in the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, even if men feel dissatisfied in their relationships, they’re less likely than women to suggest therapy — in part because of a conformity to masculine norms, but also because of self-stigma and attitudes towards seeking help.

“Although it’s shifting, many men still feel a lot of shame about admitting [their emotions and relationship problems],” explains sex and relationships therapist Cate Mackenzie. “Often they’d rather just speak with their partner.” A 2019 report by Movember found that 45% of men aged 18 to 34 have avoided talking about their problems, while 58% said they believe society expects them to be ‘emotionally strong’. This may be exacerbated when you consider that couples therapy is still sadly, and mistakenly, associated with failure — a fear of which affects us all, but is especially pronounced in macho idealism.

Then there’s the cost. Typically between £80 and £150 per session, with an average of between 12 and 25 sessions, you’re looking at a £960 minimum spend to improve your relationship. If you do have that kind of money, do the sessions come with a sense of ‘throw money at a problem and it’ll go away’? And, if you don’t (which, let’s face it, is probably the majority of us), with the current messaging that therapy is a catch-all, fix-all solution, are we sending the message that only the wealthy can stay together?

Mackenzie says she encourages couples to consider the extent of their investment from the start, likening her method to a car MOT. “When you take your car in, the mechanic says, ‘You need to do all of this and it’s going to cost this’, and they’ll get you to agree to it before they do it,” she explains. “I tell couples, ‘You can definitely shift a load of things, but it might take quite a bit of work. Are you both up for that?’”

Too much work?

“Since therapy, it feels like the relationship is in an even worse state,” says 24-year-old Maria* from London. She and her partner Daniel*, 35 — who’ve been together for two and a half years and now live in New York — did five months of couples therapy last year, in part, she says, because of her frustrations with “carrying the mental load in the relationship”.

The hope was that going to therapy would help Daniel to see how much she had to deal with in the relationship and that he would then make changes. But it didn’t pan out that way. “Our therapist helped us understand why we did certain things, but, for me, the ‘why’ isn’t important [if the action doesn’t change],” she reflects, explaining that Daniel would take things on board during therapy, but would “forget the steps he made in between sessions”, and, after they stopped, “all the effort unravelled”.

When it comes to relationships, though, what’s a ‘normal’ amount of work, and what’s pushing it? If you’ve been together a short time and you’re already seeing a therapist, is this a sign you’re not compatible? Or is it better to iron these issues out now, rather than take them into the future? Also, if therapy just provides a space to argue in, but not the tools to deal with it outside of sessions, then how helpful is that really?

Cawley lists some signs of potential incompatibility: “If you’ve not been seeing each other for long and you’re relying on this kind of support; if there’s one person pursuing the therapy and the other feels dragged along; if there’s an incongruence and one person can’t see the pitfalls [of the relationship]; or if you’re becoming reliant on long-term work, and you feel that the only way to communicate is within those sessions.”