Love Island: more responding and less reacting can’t hurt.

My name is Ben and I watch Love Island. There, I've said it. And to continue the disclosure, I have no problem telling you how fascinating I find it and make sure I catch up if I miss an episode. 

That is not to say I always enjoy it, or approve of everything that is done on the programme, or even a fraction of the things the show encourages participants to do, but I find it unmissable. I find it essential viewing, especially as someone who wants to continue to understand human interactions, motivations, how connections are formed, broken, reformed and understood, and how we each experience what we see and hear.

That is both between characters on-screen and in our homes, offices and meeting places, as viewers dissect what they are witnessing and - in my experience - are not shy in judging, praising or condemning what they feel they have seen from the villa or its Casa Amor counterpart. 

The show does make me uncomfortable at times - sometimes deeply uncomfortable when I feel - as I have with Tasha and Jacques in the last few days that their vulnerabilities are used and exploited by the show's editors and producers for dramatic effect at the possible expense of their own mental health and wellbeing.

But it does challenge me - as I learnt during my counselling training - to try to respond to what I see and hear (in a measured, reflective way) and not to react in an instinctive way, that may often be about my frame of reference or my experience. I ask myself to take a breath before rushing to rule on a dispute or question about someone’s conduct, remembering that we all do things for lots of reasons, often shaped by how we have experienced previous relationships and interactions.  

I found last night's episode - *spoiler alert* - moving and troubling in equal measure. Watching anyone cry can be tough but to see a young man who has struggled to express his feelings coming to terms with them and then trying to articulate them in the face of guilt and shame over some of his behaviour, and in the face of a perceived threat to his relationships from a confident (possibly aggressive) love interest rival, was especially tough. All at the time, as we understand from Jacques' family, that he lives with ADHD, which affects his decision-making, communication and impulsiveness. 

I witness the quickness of contestants to comment and judge and the world of social media and 'water cooler' conversations exploding with their own verdicts, not simply on events but on individual's character and personality and I am left feeling cold. The quick reactions often come without nuance and empathy. The more reflective response has more chance - in my view - to allow space for doubt, questioning and sensitivity. When I see contestants being more concerned about what others in the villa think or the views of the public rather than their own feelings, I see the fragility of their self confidence or perhaps their emphasis on the importance of the approval/validation of others (*counselling jargon warning: an external locus of evaluation) and wonder what has brought them to this place not criticising them for being there.

As the wonderful Esther Perel often says on her brilliant podcasts; perhaps we should ask "not what is wrong with you, but what happened to you?". In this question and in responding rather than reacting I hope lies greater care, empathy, understanding and hope.

This viewer of Love Island just hopes Jacques gets the empathy he needs now after his experience of the last few days.