Independence Day: “Safe in Love” with Me, Myself and I
By Rae Gaelyn Emerson, CPLC, CCRC, CDRC, MCC, CMC, CPC-S
Last week, I read a quote that stopped me in my tracks. It read: “Once you grow up, you realize you don’t want to be crazy in love… you want to be safe in love. Your partner should give you peace of mind and reassurance, not constant little heart attacks and high anxiety.” —Emily von Strasser
OOF.
“That’s it,” I felt myself saying. “That is the reason my marriage ended.”
My divorce didn’t happen because I no longer loved my husband; it happened because I could no longer survive that series of “constant little heart attacks,” the worsening norm that characterized my proximal existence to the man I still deeply loved.
Thankfully, by that point, I had learned a number of equally obvious truths: (a) that I couldn’t force another person to love me in healthy ways, (b) that recovering from betrayal trauma was ultimately my own responsibility, and (c) that my quality of life depended upon upon my readiness, willingness and ability to rescue myself from a chronically eviscerating existence.
I didn’t love these truths—at least not at first. They required me to confront the fact that nobody else (least of all, my husband) was coming to save me. They also made it crystal clear that I desperately needed a relational paradigm shift.
You see, I’d never been the girl who needed a relationship; by contrast, I’d always been the girl who wanted a relationship. I’ve discovered that healthy relationships often bring out the best in me, and I’d purposefully chosen the interdependent challenges of being married over the independent challenges of being single.
But boy oh boy, did that choice go sideways.
Despite opting-in to marriage (which I understood to be a mutually supportive and sustainable partnership), I found myself alone in a metaphorical ambulance, independently fighting to save my own life, amidst suffering the trauma of yet another heart-stopping discovery.
In that situation, “independence” wasn’t a feel-good proposition; it felt like a position of default, of deflation, of defeat. It felt like isolation, and it felt like abandonment. It took a lot of intentional and insightful reframing, but eventually independence became an empowering act of reparative repositioning. Independence became my means to distance myself from the source of my trauma, restoring my capacity to focus on healing: by myself, for myself and with myself exclusively in mind.
Both by opportunity AND by necessity, my life was once again all about me.
Was that what I wanted? Nope. Not by a long shot. Was that what I needed? Yep. I needed it as much as my heart needed oxygen, the fuel that allowed it to beat instead of break.
In doing so, I had to displace the idea that independence is inherently selfish. I had to regard my independence as a utilitarian instrument of choice, one that I could either (a) utilize to heal myself openheartedly OR (b) weaponize to defend myself bitterly.
I’m forever proud that I chose to do the former.
I appreciate myself for using my reclaimed independence wisely. I used it with self-compassion to heal my broken heart, and I used it with determination to rebuild a new life.
Paradoxically, that brings me full circle, back to the line in that powerful quote that says “you want to be safe in love.” Speaking for myself, in my situation, I realized that safety trumps love every time. When I reached the point where I couldn’t “be safe in love” with my husband, I knew it was time to shift gears and “be safe in love” with me, myself and I.
It’s been 10 years since those “constant little heart attacks” hijacked my marriage. It’s been 8 years since I suffered a terminal “widow-maker” event, effectively ending my 11 year marriage. It’s been 7 years since my divorce was final, and it’s been 5 years since I tiptoed back into a romantic relationship.
Through it all, I’ve come to terms with my complex, subjective and ever-changing stance toward the concept of “independence.” I hate it for the ways it represents the loss of something I truly cherished—the healthy interdependence I promised before God on my wedding day. I love it for the ways it represents my proven ability to rescue myself—refusing to “go down with this [relation]ship.” I honor independence as a catalyst for my growth and maturity, and I respect it as an enduring arbiter that now protects me from loving others at my own expense.
Here in America, especially during months when we celebrate patriotic holidays, we often hear the phrase “freedom isn’t free.” The statement refers to the sacrifices made by our public servants and military personnel. But it resonates with me for reasons even closer to home. It feels like I’ve paid an exceptionally high price to learn the value, power and priority of my own independence—which means (a) I’ll never again take my freedom for granted, and (b) I’ll never again undervalue the love I know I want and deserve.
Perhaps that’s my personal Declaration of Independence, one that I celebrate with stars and stripes and battle scars. Perhaps Independence Day truly is OUR holiday—a day for those of us who heal alone in the aftermath of betrayal, heroically freeing ourselves from a life of “constant little heart attacks.”
You’ll never hear me say that starting over is easy. It’s not. In some cases it’s unnecessary. In other cases, it’s unconventional. But in all cases, it’s a choice that each one of us gets to make by ourselves, for ourselves and with our own best interests at heart.
If you’re a survivor like me, alone in the back of that metaphorical ambulance, suffering the latest in a series of “constant little heart attacks,” please know that I SEE YOU. I believe you, and I believe in you. I’m cheering for you, and I’m cheering about you. And if you need someone to remind you that you can find your way back toward safety? I’m here for that, too.
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Are YOU “safe in love” as a survivor of relational trauma and/or betrayal-related divorce? If so, I want to hear about them! Email me at [email protected], or visit me online at www.healingtalksback.com.
Originally written for Turning to Peace Magazine, published by Ellia Marcum of Moodwell Coaching