When Connection Feels Like a Battle

My husband and I have been together for 16 years and married for 8. Since we met, so much has changed. I moved across the country to be with him, we built careers, we had children, we built a life. In the beginning, we were long distance. Communication was everything. When we saw each other it felt like vacation. We were early in and chemistry and connection were effortless I would even say soulmates. It wasn’t until he slipped into a depression that disconnection entered our relationship. I felt distance and didn’t understand why. Since then repair has been up and down. We are constantly navigating how to connect through different love languages, past traumas and different personalities. My biggest triggers are anything that makes me feel unworthy, abandoned, or unsupported. I’ve recently learned that when I’m trying to avoid those triggers, I can become controlling, and even judgmental, and usually become very anger. His triggers seem to be anything that makes him feel lonely, isolated, or unappreciated. Accomplishment and recognition matter deeply to him. Acts of services is his love language. I crave connection and he withdraws.Our couples therapist calls it the pursue–withdraw pattern or dance. When I share my feelings, he often feels attacked and gets defensive. I don’t feel heard, he responds, but doesn’t really listen, because he goes to I’m under attack mode. And in those moments, it feels like he’s digging a hole and throwing dirt on me. Kicking me when I am down. Not supporting me emotionally, and it escalates quickly from there (at least in my nervous system). I’m trying to explain myself, but with every defensive response, I feel more buried. I can’t see clearly. I can’t see the light. I’m just trying to get out from under it, by desperately trying to be understood. The more buried I feel, the more persistent I get to feel heard. The more persistent I get, the more attacked he feels. And just like that, we’re back in the pattern. Pursue, withdraw. It can start with something small, but the pattern makes it feel bigger. I carry the “oh, this again” story with me. When it happens, I skip past sadness and go straight to anger. In those moments, I feel like we aren’t going to make it. Like he’s disrupting my peace. Often use the word debilitating. It takes over my mind and energy, everything. When I get triggered repeatedly, my whole body feels like it’s wearing armour. It’s protective — but it also makes me irritable, impatient, and far from the loving person I want to be. Because I am closing my heart off essentially. And when that armour is on, its hard for me to shake it off, intimacy is the last thing I feel open to. It’s hard to soften. Hard to feel safe enough to be vulnerable. Hard to move toward him when my body feels like it’s bracing for impact. Hard to love openly after being hurt. We have two kids. I truly want this to work. I love him. And sometimes, he feels difficult to love. When I crave ease and calm. But I also know that in the moments he feels hardest, he likely needs love the most. I’m still figuring out how I can offer that without abandoning myself. What I’m learning is this: I cannot force him to hear me. Letting go of control and judgement there. Chasing understanding only leaves me more depleted. and gives my power away. Walking away and not forcing conversation (knowing it will blow up). So I’m working on validating myself instead of searching for it from him. I’m working on not giving my power away. If he isn’t listening and I feel desperation rising “hear me, understand me, see my side” I practice dropping it and walking away before I spiral. Engage in a self love calm activity (even a walk) and talking to someone who has capacity. I’m learning that maybe he isn’t my primary emotional support (and that maybe that's okay). --- Support, Relief & Insight --- Things that have helped me: – Going to bed by 10pm. When I’m tired, everything feels heavier. – Daily meditation readings (Journey to the Heart). – Pulling an oracle card to ground myself. – Reading Hold Me Tight, even if he hasn’t. Therapist book recommendation