If I Die

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Stop Building Emotional Walls

 

 

My marriage has been far from perfect. We’ve hit more bumps than I can count. But at the end of the day, Jeff is still the person I want to share my life—and this family—with.

 

It wasn’t always that way.

I have mentioned that there was a time when we were on the edge of breaking completely. We were angry, exhausted, disconnected.

 

Our walls were high.

 

But about a year before that “road trip” of self-discovery, Jeff and I both experienced a life-shattering moment—one of those moments that forces you to reevaluate everything.

 

First, Jeff got the call that one of his fellow soldiers had died in a sudden accident. In that moment, he realized he didn’t want to do life without me. A few months later, we were hit with his cancer diagnosis—and I realized the same.

 

It shouldn’t take tragedy to wake you up. But sometimes, it does.

 

Here’s what I’ve learned about how resentment builds in a marriage—and what I now do differently to keep the pile of bricks from turning into a wall.

 

How Emotional Walls Start

(Without You Even Realizing It)

When you end up in a relationship, you have to adjust and grow together—because no two people are the same.

 

But here’s the silent danger: resentment doesn’t always announce itself.

 

Life doesn’t go as planned. Your spouse, your kids, your friends—even YOU—won’t always act the way you want them to. When little frustrations build, you start laying bricks. One by one. Until there’s a wall between you.

 

And here’s the truth no one tells you:

 

Resentment doesn’t build unless you let it.

 

But when you let it in, it grows fast. Especially if you carry old wounds—like believing love is conditional or that you’re not worthy of it. Those thoughts will feed the wall. You’ll start looking for reasons to push them away, even when deep down you still want to hold on.

 

Here’s what that looks like in real life.

 

Example 1: The Newlywed Brick

You’re recently married. Your spouse goes out with friends and says they’ll be home by midnight. But at 1 AM, you’re still awake, frustrated. You like going to bed together—especially in this new season of marriage.

 

You finally give up and go to bed angry.

 

In the morning, they’re still sleeping. So you get up, and maybe you’re a little louder than you need to be (petty = brick).

 

When they wake up, you give them the cold shoulder until they ask what’s wrong (petty = brick).

 

Eventually you talk it out, and the frustration eases. You leave for the day feeling all twiderpated again. But those bricks you laid?

 

They’re still there.

And what if the extra noise you made in the morning—and the cold shoulder—made them lay a few bricks on their wall, too?

 

Example 2: The New Parent Brick

Nothing tests a marriage like becoming parents.

You’re both running on fumes. You’re covered in spit-up and resentment. You’re trying to remember who you even are outside of diapers and exhaustion.

 

So one night, you ask your spouse to get up with the baby because you desperately need just one night of sleep.

 

But at 2 AM, the baby cries. You wait. Your spouse doesn’t move.

 

You shake them awake—not once, but twice. Still nothing. So you drag yourself out of bed with the baby.

 

And while you’re rocking that baby, the angry thoughts flood in.

 

“They can’t even do this one thing for me.”
“Why am I the only one sacrificing here?”

Every single thought is another brick.

The Wall Creeps Up Before You See It

These moments feel small. But they add up.

Frustration → resentment → bricks → walls.

 

Years go by, and suddenly the wall is so high you forget what’s on the other side.

 

That’s where Jeff and I were after seven years of marriage. The walls were tall, and neither of us could see over them. It took tragedy—losing people we loved and facing his cancer—to force us to tear them down.

 

But you don’t have to wait for tragedy. You can stop adding bricks now.

 

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