The familiar landscape of Abilene stretches around me, quiet and unassuming. I’m here for the week, a necessary pause in my journey for my monthly scan. It’s a grounding moment, a reminder of the quiet, ongoing battle within my own body, bringing both apprehension and a renewed sense of vulnerable purpose. Yet, even in this space of medical necessity and solitary reflection, my world feels undeniably warmer, illuminated by a connection that continues to amaze me daily.
Matthew and I have been navigating this temporary physical distance, this week apart, not too well. We talk every single night on the phone, often for hours, finding comfort and joy in each other’s voices, bridging the miles between Austin and Abilene. We’ve even been “watching” True Blood together from afar, syncing up our viewing so we can debrief every wild twist and turn. Facetiming allows us to bridge the miles, making the separation feel less significant, almost a minor atmospheric disturbance. He is, without exaggeration, amazing and incredibly supportive, a constant source of light and understanding, particularly during these weeks when the anxieties of scans and test results can weigh heavily on me. His presence in my life, his unwavering kindness, his steady affection, makes everything feel inherently easier, fundamentally changing the very air I breathe.
And it’s precisely this profound ease, this new, healthy, and deeply affirming dynamic, that has unexpectedly brought a challenging, yet vital, truth into sharp, often uncomfortable, focus: Matthew and I seldom argue, but I have learned, by being with someone who isn’t toxic, that sometimes, I’m the problem.
The Uncomfortable Mirror: When Trauma Echoes in Present Love
For a significant portion of my life, my understanding of “normal” relationships was tragically skewed. My past was a crucible of infidelity, verbal abuse, and even physical violence—a relationship that lasted from age 18 to 32 and taught me to normalize constant conflict, to expect drama, and to often see myself as the victim of external, uncontrollable forces. My coping mechanisms, my ingrained reactions, and my very emotional landscape were shaped by those turbulent, traumatic currents.
Now, with Matthew, the dynamic is profoundly, miraculously different. The pervasive absence of toxicity, the constant presence of genuine respect, unwavering patience, and open communication, has created a remarkably clear, calm space. And in that newfound clarity, with the atmospheric noise of conflict removed, I sometimes see my own lingering shadows, my unaddressed patterns, with uncomfortable precision. My trauma, my old issues, my deeply ingrained problems, which were once masked or actively exacerbated by the chaos of past, unhealthy relationships, now have nowhere to hide. They are exposed in the quiet calm.
- The Echoes of Hypervigilance: After years of walking on emotional eggshells, my nervous system is still fundamentally wired for potential conflict, constantly scanning the horizon for the next perceived threat. A minor misunderstanding, a subtle shift in tone, or an innocent expression can instantly trigger an immediate, disproportionate defensive reaction—an intense emotional spike rooted in past betrayals and abuses, not present reality. My brain, the “world’s worst roommate” as I’ve called it, can project old fears and anxieties onto new, innocent situations, creating unnecessary turbulence in a calm environment.
- The Unconscious Need for Control: Having lived through prolonged periods where I lacked control, particularly in my childhood with an abusive stepfather and in my past volatile relationship, I sometimes find myself unconsciously exerting subtle (or occasionally, not-so-subtle) control in benign situations. This stems from a deep-seated, protective need for safety and predictability, but in a healthy, equitable relationship, it can inadvertently manifest as rigidity, unwarranted anxiety, or an unwillingness to cede autonomy.
- The Struggle with Vulnerability and Its Perceived Cost: While I am actively, courageously working to embrace vulnerability (and Matthew encourages this beautifully), the deep scars of past betrayals and the profound pain of having my authentic self dismissed make it incredibly hard to fully trust. My brain can still whisper persistent doubts, suggesting that radical openness will inevitably lead to more pain, more disappointment. This internal resistance, this lingering fear of being truly seen and subsequently hurt again, can, at times, inadvertently create an emotional distance, even from someone as trustworthy and loving as Matthew.
- The Impact of Past Invalidation: Having had my feelings, my perceptions, and my very reality systematically dismissed or gaslighted for so long in past relationships, I sometimes struggle with expressing my needs or concerns without feeling like I’m being “too much,” “too sensitive,” or “overly demanding.” It’s a learned caution, a self-protective measure, that can inadvertently make communication harder, even when the other person is genuinely listening and eager to understand.
Acknowledgment: The First Step Towards Reshaping the Landscape
Learning that sometimes, I’m the problem is not a comfortable revelation. It’s a humbling, often painful, and profoundly vulnerable acknowledgment that strips away layers of past self-defense. But it’s also, paradoxically, a profoundly liberating truth. It represents the first crucial step towards genuine healing and the conscious creation of truly healthy, reciprocal dynamics.
- Awareness as a Compass: There is no magic wand, no immediate fix for trauma’s lingering echoes. These are deep-seated patterns forged over years of painful experience. But simply knowing—having the clarity to identify a reaction as “my trauma showing up” rather than an inherent flaw in the present relationship—is half the battle. This awareness is a powerful compass, guiding me towards understanding and conscious choice.
- Responsibility, Not Blame: This isn’t about blaming myself for past trauma or the horrific actions of others. It’s about bravely taking responsibility for how those traumas manifest in my present behavior and reactions. It’s about shifting from victimhood (of my past) to agency (in my present), consciously choosing to respond differently, to break old cycles, even when those old echoes powerfully resurface.
- Growth Through Compassion: This challenging journey requires immense self-compassion. I am learning to be patient with myself, to acknowledge my triggers without judgment, and to approach my own imperfections with the same unwavering kindness and understanding I strive to offer to others. Matthew’s unwavering acceptance, his consistent validation, and his profound empathy are powerful catalysts for this vital self-compassion, providing a constant source of warmth and light.
- Redefining Conflict: In a toxic relationship, conflict is often a destructive force, a source of fear and emotional damage. In a healthy relationship, it can, surprisingly, be an opportunity for growth and deeper connection. Matthew and I seldom argue because we prioritize open, honest communication and address issues before they fester. And when those moments of friction arise, I’m learning to pause, to breathe, and to discern if my reaction is truly about the present situation, or if it’s a lingering echo from the past, allowing us to navigate with greater clarity.
My scan week here in Abilene serves as a stark reminder of the battles my body has fought and continues to fight. But this period of quiet reflection, profoundly supported by Matthew’s unwavering love and my ability to witness our healthy dynamic, is also highlighting the deep, ongoing work within my soul. The journey to truly heal, to integrate past wounds without letting them dictate my present, is a lifelong one. But with Matthew by my side, with his patience, his profound understanding, and his radiant love, I feel equipped, perhaps for the very first time, to truly confront my own shadows in the clear light of a healthy, affirming connection. And that, I know, is the beginning of a truly beautiful, unburdened future.