Actually, I'm not fine… blog

Part 5: My First Marriage: Comfort, Control, and Misalignment

My first marriage wasn’t a fairy tale. Looking back, I can see it clearly for what it was: a relationship built more on comfort and control than on connection or true compatibility. At the time, I thought I was making rational choices. I was trying to keep myself safe, trying to navigate love with the tools I had, and mostly, trying not to be hurt.

I chose a partner who offered stability and predictability. They had a 9-to-5 job, a schedule I could count on, and a life that wouldn’t force me to confront my deepest fears about betrayal or abandonment. On paper, it seemed ideal. But the reality was different. The relationship lacked intimacy, communication, and emotional depth. I was present physically, but emotionally, I kept careful boundaries. My partner was friendly and predictable, but we didn’t fully connect, not in the ways that mattered most.

The choices I made in that marriage were informed by my history. I was still carrying the lessons of childhood trauma, the absence of a trustworthy father, the bitterness of a mother who taught me to hate men. I approached the marriage as a form of control. I wanted to protect myself, to minimize risk, and to maintain the independence I had worked so hard to cultivate. Love, in its messy, vulnerable, complicated form, was too frightening.

And yet, this marriage taught me something valuable: it revealed the gaps between survival and living. It highlighted the ways my fear and control interfered with intimacy. It showed me that stability without connection is not enough, and that choosing comfort over authenticity comes with a cost. I was safe, yes, but I wasn’t truly thriving. I wasn’t experiencing love fully, nor was I giving it fully.

It’s ironic, because on some level, the world would have seen me as successful. I had chosen a partner who was reliable, someone who fit into the image of a stable relationship. But inside, I knew the truth. I had not yet learned to trust, to let someone in completely, to navigate love without armor. That armor, which had kept me alive for decades, was now preventing me from fully living.

The lessons of this first marriage carried forward, though. They became a mirror of my own patterns—the ways I managed fear, avoided vulnerability, and prioritized control. They taught me the importance of self-awareness and reflection. And they set the stage for the growth that would come later, when I finally understood that survival and true living are not the same thing.

Closing Reflection:

Have you ever realized that the relationships we choose are often mirrors of the survival strategies we’ve built?

That comfort and safety might feel like love, but sometimes, real love requires risk, vulnerability, and letting go of control?