The Day He Asked If I Was Heartless

Today, my husband asked me if I was heartless.

It hurt.

Not because I think he’s wrong… but because part of me fears he’s right.

Not in the way he meant it...but in the way I’ve learned to survive.

To shut down. To numb.

To feel so much at once that I had to build walls just to function.

He said, “I know you’re not heartless… but sometimes you can be cold.”

And maybe I can be.

Not because I don’t care...but because I care so deeply, so intensely, that it overwhelms me.

So I’ve learned to choose logic over chaos.

Anger over ache.

Distance over devastation.

It became muscle memory.

He opened up about missing his family. How he hasn’t seen them.

And I said...genuinely, but maybe too bluntly...

“Well, if they wanted to call or be here, they would. Relationships are a two-way street.”

That’s something I knee jerk reaction have told myself when I miss family myself at times.

It keeps the sadness from swallowing me whole.

But what protects me… doesn’t always connect me.

That mindset may keep me from spiraling...but it also keeps me from staying soft.

It replaces sadness with anger.

Connection with control.

And maybe… that’s not growth.

Maybe it’s just a more polished kind of armor.

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And maybe... he's teaching me something.

After I said that, I tried to fix it...

“If you miss them, call them. Talk to them. Reach out. Do something about it.”

I realized in that moment:

I was either trying to pull him out of his pain… or fix it altogether.

But I couldn’t do either.

Because maybe there isn’t a “right” thing to say- especially when emotions are raw.

My voice felt like a trigger.

His silence felt like punishment.

And I had to stop trying to rescue him the way I rescue me...by solving.

Maybe the right thing wasn’t a solution.

Maybe the right thing…was space.

Letting him feel. Letting it breathe.

Because people are different.

We don’t cope the same.

We don’t feel the same.

We don’t need the same things in the same moment.

And that’s okay.

I’m still learning how to hold space for someone else without abandoning my own.

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It might be the BPD.

It might be the OCD.

It might be trauma reflexes.

It might be all of it.

But what it’s not… is a lack of love.

I do feel. I just don’t always know how to show it right away.

Sometimes I say the wrong thing before I realize the right one.

Sometimes I freeze instead of lean in.

Sometimes I push when I should just sit beside.

Sometimes I try to fix when I should just feel.

Today wasn’t one of the days I got it right.

But after giving him space, I came to him and wrapped my arms around him.

I told him I was sorry for not saying the right thing...for being in logical place and for not meeting him in his current emotional state. I told him i was sorry I tried to fix it instead of just sitting with it...with him.

That I love him...

That I know distance hurts...and I’m sorry.

I asked him what he needed from me in that moment...

We then talked about planning a trip to visit his family eventually... or even flying his mom down to stay with us...and we talked about that.

He he apologized for snapping and for saying what he said...

He kissed me. Said he loved me. Thanked me.

And just like that…

There was repair.

And in that moment, I remembered:

There’s a necessary balance between speaking your truth and speaking with grace. Truth and grace together is how God calls us to love and communicate with one another. My first reaction was all truth-and my second reaction? I spoke truth with grace… and that made all the difference in the world♡

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And as for me...

Today reminded me that I still have work to do.

I’m in therapy. I’m praying. I’m learning.

I’m trying to unlearn the instinct to push, pull, fix, or flee.

The instinct to armor up instead of open up.

That’s what BPD does sometimes.

It wires you to protect, defend, retreat.

To swing between numb and everything-all-at-once.

To feel deeply-but struggle to express it in the way others can receive.

Some days, the gates stay shut.

Other days, they swing open, and emotion floods in all at once.

If you’ve ever been told you’re cold, distant, too logical, too hard…

I want you to know:

You are not heartless.

You are not incapable of love.

You are healing. You are growing.

And you’re doing better than you think.

The fact that you care this much about how you love others?

Means your heart is still very much alive.

I promise to continue sharing the things that come with real marriage. Real life. Real mental and physical illness. The things you don’t see anywhere else.

This is Kristen, Unfiltered.

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“But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,” declares the Lord.

- Jeremiah 30:17

Kristen, Unfiltered Xo 💋