top of page

FOLLOW US

  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Threads
  • LinkedIn

From Guarded to Growing: How Your Childhood Walls Could Be Blocking Your Marriage

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Apr 26

Childhood walls built to protect us from pain can quietly follow us into adulthood, shaping how we love and how close we allow others to get. When we begin to understand and gently dismantle our childhood walls, we create space for deeper connection, healing, and intimacy in our relationships.

From Guarded to Growing: How Your Childhood Walls Could Be Blocking Your Marriage

Do you ever find yourself pulling away when your partner gets too close—emotionally, not just physically? Or shutting down during conflict, saying, “I’m fine,” when you’re anything but? You may be operating from a script written long before you ever fell in love.


The truth is, the way we were raised doesn’t just influence how we see the world—it shapes how we relate to the people we care about most. If your childhood taught you that vulnerability equals danger, you may have unconsciously built emotional walls. While those walls once protected you, they could now be keeping love out.


The Silent Blueprint: How Childhood Shapes Our Defenses


Childhood is when we first learn how to connect—or disconnect. If your parents or caregivers were emotionally unavailable, unpredictable, critical, or even just emotionally overwhelmed themselves, your nervous system adapted. You learned what was “safe” in relationships based on what your environment demanded of you.


For example:


  • If you were punished or ignored for showing emotion, you may have learned to shut down and internalize pain.


  • If love felt conditional—based on achievement, behavior, or emotional compliance—you may have developed a hyper-independence or people-pleasing style.


  • If trust was repeatedly broken, you may now expect abandonment or betrayal, even from someone who’s proven trustworthy.


These are not flaws. They are adaptations. But while they may have helped you survive emotionally, they can now sabotage your ability to fully thrive in a relationship.


Love Behind the Wall: The Problem With Staying Guarded


Being emotionally guarded doesn’t mean you don’t love deeply—it often means you love so deeply that you fear being hurt again. But here's the paradox: the very strategies we use to protect ourselves from pain (withdrawing, staying "strong," avoiding conflict) often end up creating the very disconnection we fear most.


You might:


  • Struggle to express needs or fears.


  • Avoid initiating intimacy or important conversations.


  • Assume your partner “should just know” how you feel.


  • Feel disconnected even when everything seems “fine” on the outside.


These behaviors can leave your partner feeling confused, unappreciated, or shut out—while you might feel frustrated that they don't "get you." Over time, this emotional gap can quietly erode connection, creating loneliness within the relationship itself.



Lowering the Shield: Small Steps Toward Emotional Openness


The idea of being vulnerable can feel terrifying if your childhood taught you that doing so wasn’t safe. But vulnerability doesn’t mean exposure without boundaries—it means letting yourself be seen, little by little, in an environment of care.


Here are a few ways to begin:


  • Notice your patterns: Start observing your emotional habits in moments of stress or closeness. Do you go silent? Get defensive? Do you intellectualize your feelings instead of sharing them?


  • Name the origin: Reflect on where those patterns began. Were emotions discouraged in your household? Did you feel unsafe when being honest as a child?


  • Start small: Vulnerability doesn’t mean spilling everything all at once. Try sharing something small, like “I had a hard day, and I just need a little comfort tonight,” and see how your partner responds.


  • Let your partner in: If you're comfortable, explain your hesitations. A simple “I’m not always great at this, but I’m trying to be more open” can create powerful intimacy.


  • Get curious, not critical: When you catch yourself retreating, pause and ask, “What am I protecting right now?” Compassionate self-awareness is a key step toward change.


  • Seek support: Therapy—especially emotionally focused therapy (EFT) or trauma-informed approaches—can help you rewire patterns of disconnection in a safe space.


The Payoff: More Connection, More Joy


When you begin softening your defenses, you create room for real intimacy—not just coexisting, but truly knowing and being known.


You may begin to experience:


  • Deeper emotional conversations.


  • A stronger sense of safety and belonging.


  • Fewer miscommunications or assumptions.


  • More ease in asking for comfort, help, or support.


You’ll also likely notice a shift in your own internal world. Lowering your guard doesn’t mean losing control—it means giving yourself permission to receive love, not just give it.



Closing Thought


If your childhood taught you to stay guarded to survive, what would it feel like to finally feel safe enough to let love in—and grow?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



More Related Articles:

The Armor We Outgrow: Learning to Let Vulnerability In

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Apr 22

Learning to let vulnerability in isn’t about being weak—it’s about being brave enough to show up as your full self, even when it feels uncomfortable. The path to deeper connection begins with learning to let vulnerability in, gently replacing old armor with authentic presence.

The Armor We Outgrow: Learning to Let Vulnerability In

From a young age, many of us learn that vulnerability equals weakness. We’re taught to “be strong,” “hold it together,” and “never let them see you cry.” Whether through subtle cultural messages or direct experiences of being shamed or ignored when we opened up, we internalize the belief that showing our pain makes us less worthy, less capable, and less safe.


So we adapt. We toughen up. We smile through sadness. We perfect the art of small talk to avoid the heaviness of real talk. And we wonder why we feel so disconnected, even in rooms full of people.


But what if vulnerability isn’t weakness? What if it’s actually the bravest thing we can offer?


What Vulnerability Really Looks Like


Vulnerability isn’t just crying in front of someone or confessing deep secrets. It can look like asking for help, admitting “I don’t know,” or telling someone “That hurt me.” It’s choosing to speak even when your voice shakes, to stay in the moment even when everything inside you wants to run.


It’s also boundaries, honesty, and showing up authentically—even if that means risking rejection or judgment. Vulnerability is raw and courageous. It invites others to meet us in our truth. Without it, relationships become performance pieces, not real partnerships.



Why We Struggle With It


Many of us have very good reasons for struggling with vulnerability. Maybe we were punished or mocked for being emotional. Maybe we were raised in environments where survival depended on hiding pain. Or maybe we’ve been hurt when we dared to open up—and decided never again.



These defense mechanisms helped us cope, but over time, they can become armor that limits our growth. We start avoiding the very things that could lead to healing: hard conversations, emotional expression, intimacy.


The fear of being “too much” or “not enough” keeps us silent. But silence doesn’t protect—it isolates.


Practicing Vulnerability in Small, Brave Ways


You don’t have to rip off the armor all at once. Start gently. Vulnerability is a muscle—it strengthens with use. Here are a few ways to practice it:


  • Name your emotions aloud. Even something as simple as “I’m feeling overwhelmed right now” invites connection.


  • Start with safe people. Choose those who’ve earned your trust. Share something small and see how they respond.


  • Ask for what you need. Instead of waiting to be noticed, try saying, “I could really use a hug right now” or “Can we talk? I’m having a hard day.”


  • Let go of perfection. Show up messy. It’s okay if you don’t have the perfect words—honesty matters more than polish.


  • Use journaling as a warm-up. Write what you’re feeling before you try to speak it out loud. This helps clarify what’s going on inside.


Vulnerability Is a Two-Way Street


Being vulnerable invites others to do the same. When we lead with honesty, we create safer spaces for real connection. That doesn’t mean every person will meet you where you are—but the right ones will. And that’s how true relationships are built.


You may be surprised by the way people soften when they see the real you. Because underneath all our masks, we’re all just trying to be seen, loved, and understood.


Final Thought


Vulnerability won’t always feel safe—but neither does loneliness, disconnection, or the exhaustion of always pretending you’re okay. When we choose vulnerability, we choose growth, authenticity, and deeper bonds.


So ask yourself: What might open up in your life if you stopped hiding how you really feel?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



More Related Articles:

Love Isn’t the Hard Part: Why Marriage Tests Us in Unexpected Ways

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Apr 21

Marriage tests us not in the grand moments, but in the everyday messes—when we’re tired, overwhelmed, and still choosing each other. From sleepless nights with a newborn to silent dinners after a long day, marriage tests us by asking, will you still show up, even now?

Love Isn’t the Hard Part: Why Marriage Tests Us in Unexpected Ways

Falling in love is pure magic. It’s the part of the story where everything glows. The first dates, the sparks, the feeling that someone finally sees you—it’s euphoric. That beginning phase is full of curiosity and hope, untouched by life’s sharp edges. You wake up excited to see their name pop up on your phone, you replay conversations in your mind, and you begin to imagine a future wrapped around each other. It’s beautiful—and often deceptively simple.


But what we don’t talk about enough is what happens after the fairytale. When routines replace spontaneity, and obligations crowd out passion. The transition from dating to enduring partnership is quiet but seismic. It’s not a failure of love—it’s the beginning of real life. And real life, even with your soulmate, is hard.


The Myth of Easy Love


We’ve been conditioned by stories to believe that love should be easy if it’s right. Fairy tales, romantic comedies, and even Instagram captions subtly convince us that love is only valid when it feels effortless. But sustainable love? The kind that weathers seasons and storms? That kind of love demands energy, intention, and uncomfortable conversations.


Many couples hit a wall not because their love was a lie, but because they expected love to do the work for them. But love isn’t a cruise control button—it’s a practice. And when both partners are overwhelmed, distracted, or emotionally unavailable, that practice gets neglected. We start to mistake distance for incompatibility. We start to wonder: “Should it really be this hard?” The answer is: sometimes, yes. Love that deepens over decades is forged, not found.


The Baby Effect: How Parenthood Shakes the Foundation


No stage tests a marriage like the early years of parenthood. Suddenly, you’re not just partners—you’re co-parents, sleep-deprived teammates trying to keep a tiny human alive. You’re stretched thin in every direction. Conversations turn into diaper duty negotiations. Physical touch becomes practical—feeding, burping, changing—rather than romantic. And emotional bandwidth? Practically zero.


It’s not just exhaustion—it’s identity loss. You may no longer recognize the version of yourself you’ve become. Your partner may feel more like a coworker than a lover. And through it all, you may silently grieve the life you used to have—while also feeling immense guilt for feeling that way. These are real, raw experiences, and they’re more common than we admit.


Love after a baby requires deep patience and even deeper communication. It asks both partners to evolve—and to hold space for one another’s needs without keeping score. Because it’s not always 50/50. Some days, it’s 90/10. And that’s okay—if you both agree to take turns carrying the heavier load.


Why Keeping Love Alive Takes Effort


Passion isn’t self-sustaining—it requires fuel. In the early days, novelty keeps the flame burning. But once the newness wears off, love has to be fed through shared rituals, physical affection, emotional check-ins, and simply showing up. It’s far too easy to slide into coexisting, especially when you're juggling careers, children, aging parents, or financial stress.


Love is often drowned out by survival mode. We assume our partner knows we care, but affection becomes scarce. Conversations get reduced to logistics. Sex might feel distant, mechanical, or even forgotten. The truth is, the everyday demands of life—especially with children—quietly erode intimacy when we don’t actively protect it. Keeping love alive is not about grand romantic gestures—it’s about creating a million small moments of connection amid the chaos.


It Can’t Be One-Sided Work


Here’s the truth that can sting: love will not thrive if only one person is doing the work. One partner can’t carry the emotional weight of the relationship while the other coasts. Emotional labor, communication, vulnerability—these must be mutual investments. Otherwise, resentment begins to take root, and connection begins to unravel.


After a baby, the imbalance can feel even more extreme—especially if one parent becomes the default caregiver while the other stays immersed in work or other responsibilities. Even well-meaning couples can fall into harmful patterns where one partner feels abandoned, unseen, or taken for granted.


A strong relationship is not about who’s giving more or who’s more exhausted—it’s about shared ownership. Both partners need to lean in, take initiative, and actively support each other’s well-being. If only one person is fighting for the relationship, then the balance is already broken. Love demands partnership—not martyrdom.



The Reality of Two People Changing


Time changes people. Not all at once, and not always in obvious ways, but inevitably. You may find that your partner’s priorities shift, that their outlook matures, that the way they give or receive love evolves. Sometimes that change is sparked by trauma, growth, a new career, or becoming a parent. And sometimes, it’s you who changes, leaving your partner feeling confused or left behind.


The hardest part? Change doesn’t always happen in sync. One partner might be diving deep into self-discovery while the other is just trying to stay afloat. What worked five years ago—or before kids—might not work now, and it’s easy to feel like you’ve become strangers. But growth doesn’t have to be a threat to the relationship. It can be an invitation to re-meet each other. To stay curious. To fall in love with new versions of the person you once knew.


So… Why Do We Do It?


Despite the challenges, many of us still choose marriage—not because we’re clinging to tradition, but because we believe in the promise of being deeply known and loved through all versions of ourselves. There’s something sacred about shared history. About building a life with someone who’s seen you break down, who’s seen you unfiltered, and stayed anyway. That kind of connection, when nurtured, becomes a sanctuary.


Marriage can be a mirror that reflects not just your partner’s flaws, but your own. It forces you to confront your triggers, your defenses, your expectations. And in that process, it can help you grow in ways that solitude never could. The work is real—but so is the reward.


How Do You Keep the Flame Alive—Even After Kids?


It starts with presence. Not just being in the same room, but actually being with each other. Eye contact. Laughter. Gratitude spoken out loud. Ask questions you haven’t asked in years. Schedule dates, even if they’re at home with takeout. Kiss longer. Touch more. Be willing to say, “I miss us,” without assigning blame.


When conflict arises, fight for clarity, not control. Make it safe to be honest, even if the honesty is messy. Apologize when you’re wrong. Offer forgiveness even when it’s uncomfortable. And never stop checking in: “How are we doing?” “Are we okay?” These small acts are the stitching that holds the relationship together—especially when you’re busy keeping small humans alive.



One Last Question:


If you’re pouring everything into your marriage—but feel like you’re parenting alone, loving alone, or holding all the emotional weight… how long can one heart carry what was meant for two?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



More Related Articles:

bottom of page