I've Been Holding My Husband at Arms-Length for Years
HUMAN FEELING: SHAME at realizing my childhood actually did affect me.
For a long time, I’ve been convinced that I am fairly well adjusted when it comes to classic childhood modeling that affects you later in life. I was raised by an incredible single mom after my parents divorced when I was 4. My dad was in and out of my life (mostly out) throughout my childhood, but I can’t remember ever wanting for anything, least of all him. My mom took on the role of both mother and father and loved my brother and I so well that what did it matter if he was around or not?
But recently as I was listening to a book, I learned about attachment styles - whether you securely or insecurely attach to another person. And something in this discussion stopped me and made me reevaluate everything I’ve ever thought about how much I did (or didn’t) care about my father being in my life. What I had always chalked up to a personality trait of mine, is likely something much deeper.
I can securely attach to most people. I have great relationships, I’m able to be my most honest self with a select few in my life, I’m there when and if people need me. And, I have a great marriage. I don’t just love my husband, I like him, too. I love being married to him. I love the life that we’ve built.
And yet, after listening to this book, I realized there’s a piece of me that has always held him at arm’s length. Not in any big ways. He’s still my person - the one that I call when something good (or bad) happens. He’s the one I rely on. He’s my favorite person.
But there is still that part of me that hasn’t fully attached. I keep myself at a comfortable enough distance that if he left me tomorrow, I’d be okay. Not okay in an emotional way, it would certainly destroy me. But okay in an “I can do this life on my own” sort of way. I’ve always thought that was a reflection of being raised by a single mom, seeing how she brought us up without needing any outside help - and likely that is a portion of this.
What I’m realizing now is that an even bigger portion is that I haven’t allowed myself to get securely attached to my husband because what if he does leave me just like my dad did? What if someday he decides that I’m just not who he wants and he moves on? What if I do have to do this life on my own and I have to be okay with it?
This insecure attachment mostly shows up in financial ways - not having a joint bank account, and not asking for financial help when I need it. Or, let’s be honest, not asking for help in general. I’m always convinced that I can do everything on my own - from building furniture, to fixing things I have no idea how to fix. And even when he does offer me help, I don’t like to accept it. I want to be superwoman… because what if one day, that’s exactly what I need to be? I am okay on my own (something I always attributed to being an introvert) and that’s the way I’ve always liked it.
When I write this out, it sounds ridiculous, even to my own ears. My husband has never given me any indication that he wants to leave. And if we’re going by the childhood model of being - he has grown up seeing his parents stay together, even when times were hard. So he has even more of a reason to believe that we can work it all out.
But me? The man who was supposed to love me most was only around when it was convenient for him, so why wouldn’t that be the same for my husband - the man who is supposed to love me most now?
My husband is an incredible man. One who puts me (and our kids) above everything. Who, for the last eight years, has worked extra hard so that I could pursue all of my career dreams. Who would do (and has done) anything he could to make sure that I was happy. But there is still a part of me that can’t fully attach to this idea of happily ever after and that needs to be on alert at all times for the slightest shift in our relationship, knowing that what comes next is me being alone.
My husband once jokingly said to me (after I wouldn’t accept his help on something simple) “You’d make a great single mom.” To be sure this wasn’t any sort of threat, more an observation that I have learned to do it all on my own, that my stubbornness, my independence, my general lack of need for anyone else, is front and center.
And while I used to think that just made me strong, I’m now beginning to see where it’s caused minute cracks in our relationship. Where if I just let him in that little tiny bit more, where if I just allowed myself to remember that he is not my dad, and that our relationship is secure, and happy, how much better could things be? How much more secure could not only I feel, but him as well?
This question, about things being even better between us, is one that I’m going to continue to ask myself, especially as situations come up where I could choose to let him in, or not. Where I could choose to be in a true partnership, rather than being 90% of the way there. And in turn, trust that I have built myself a life with someone the complete opposite of my dad. I can attach to him, securely, and trust that whatever ups and downs are to come in the future, that we’ll be okay. That one bump in the road doesn’t mean he’s going to leave. That one day, or one week, or one month of me being miserable isn’t a sign that he’s out looking for someone new. I can trust him.
Thank you for sharing your story Sarah, there’s so much in here that resonates with me. Self-reliance is not about always doing everything by yourself, it is also about asking for what you need. Many of us have learned that asking for help is a sign of weakness but it is actually a sign of great strength to allow yourself to rely on someone else. We were never meant to do it all alone ❤️
Really breathtaking vulnerability. And inspiring that, no matter what stage of life or relationships, that we can always find ways to reflect and grow, to love, and let others love us.