Too Good to Be True

Please don't make me regret
Opening up that part of myself
That I've been scared to give again
Be good to me, and I'll be good to you
But please don't be too good to be true

(~Kacey Musgraves, Too Good To Be True)

It feels too good to be true. You find yourself saying to your best friend, and even to your therapist. Except it’s not. You deserve this. They both respond, as if in unison, smiles wide, genuinely happy and giddy for you as you’re in the early days of new love. Your heart is full. You are bursting with love and romance. After years of being single, some heartbreak, and the joke that is online dating, you feel as though you have finally landed; you have found your prince charming. If it feels too good to be true it probably is. Just as a slow-rising tide is nearly imperceivable, the shift from love to pain, light to darkness, occurs in subtle increments without warning. Soon enough the tide will rise completely, and a current will wrap itself around you in what feels like a hug dressed up as a deathgrip.

It’s not about one fight. It’s about a pattern of their emotional immaturity and their lack of self-reflection, self-regulation, and self-awareness that results in a lack of emotional safety in you. In the late hours of night or early hours of morning when the first signs of dawn are barely creeping in, you lay in bed replaying this love story like a movie. When did this go from a rom-com to a Greek tragedy? You’re looking for signs and clues you could have missed. Sure, there were red flags, but when did they start? More importantly, when did you start ignoring them for the sake of love? You think back to one of the first fights just a few months in. It seemed harmless initially. But what you didn't know then and what is unmistakable now is that was the early sign - the slow erosion of your trust and emotional safety. Love is not enough.

One passive-aggressive comment catches you off guard. What was that? What just happened? Interested in understanding, you respond with curiosity, willing to hear your partner out. Something is underneath that comment. What is it? I’m here. I’m listening. The response: defensiveness or denial. But the tone and mood have shifted. You sense them withdrawing or growing cold. As a life-long codependent and people-pleaser you are well-tuned to ever-so-slight shifts in mood, tone, expression, and emotions in those around you. Something’s not right. “I’m ok,” “I’m fine,” and “nothing is wrong” is code for “I’m not fine” and “something is definitely not ok.” Like lava bubbling under the surface, soon enough the heat will exit, and it will burn everything in its path. 

What eventually surfaces from your partner leaves you stunned, speechless, baffled even. Unfounded accusations that your words or actions are "inappropriate,” “opening doors,” “attention seeking.” This is when the first of the blows occurs. Love’s silent bruises leaving their mark. You are filled with confusion, but more importantly, you are filled with hurt. I thought this person knew me. But I am loyal. I am committed. How am I so misunderstood? I am just being me. The mischaracterization and labels that don't fit feels like putting on a pair of jeans in the wrong size. Too big, and you are swimming. Too tight, and you are suffocating. Your character being at odds by someone you trust and love fills you with a painful devastation. 

Any attempt to reconcile is useless. You try to defend, explain, rationalize, and compassionately listen. Nothing. The verbal blows are now falling like acid rain. Every drop burns into your memory. The story they have created about you is stronger and more powerful than your truth, love, character, and loyalty. The truth does not set you free. You feel defeated. You feel hurt. You grow silent. You shrink and become small. You find yourself apologizing for a crime you didn't commit and don't quite understand. You find yourself agreeing to accusations with the hope that they feel heard and understood so you both can be at peace again. And you find yourself beginning to censor parts of you in order to keep the peace. This is the first time you start accepting harm disguised as “love.” You have learned a powerful lesson: your whole self is not safe here. The moment you begin to silence your whole authentic self is the first crack in the foundation. What first seemed “harmless” is “harm full.” Without proper repair, the crack in the foundation expands; the gap starts as a tiny splinter and grows into an undeniable canyon. The house of cards will crumble.

Made some breakfast, made some love
If this is what dreams are made of
Please don't wake me

(~Kacey Musgraves, Too Good To Be True)