Stonewalling breaks me. I don’t bounce back from it. But I’ve repeatedly and predictably returned for more. Hopefully, for the last time.
The silent treatment and banishment were the standard responses to any need, limit, boundary, preference, or discomfort I directly expressed—first in my family, then in nearly all of my relationships.
To request consideration was labeled and dismissed as being difficult. Who tf did I think I was? The consequence was silence. Banishment.
But I do not seek control over others. Just consideration. Collaboration.
I do though, consistently tether myself to those who believe their needs, desires, and comfort matter more than mine—more than anyone’s.
And perhaps, for the less sensitive (neuro-typical and untraumatized), with more resilience—it’s less of a problem..
But, for me, it’s not less of a problem.
I will not readily surrender to anyone who is actively unwilling to support my wellness, peace, or comfort.
The same people who require a presentation of ease and happiness —refused to be influenced in any way that might support my comfort or peace. Their message was clear: be happy on their terms, or leave. Let go, or be dragged—those were the only options.
I can’t ignore the pattern: being discarded by people who believe some people matter more than others—who resort to stonewalling and triangulation when things get hard. But I see now that pattern reflects the kinds of people I’ve been drawn to—what’s familiar, what I was raised on, not—the kind of person I am or what I deserve.
It’s what they do. Some ride it out as if it’s no problem and learn to accept this. I’m not one of those people. My most recent relationship began as a D/s dynamic. I was intentionally seeking to submit to a trusted man—someone who would find deep satisfaction and inspiration in prioritizing my needs, desires, and limits, while holding the control to lead as he wished. I still desire this kind of intentional, structured connection—rooted in trust, and a shared vision.
I’m someone who will probably always seek a deeper understanding of conflict, apology, and repair. The books below have been especially meaningful to me on that path.
– On Repentance and Repair by Danya Ruttenberg
– The Book of Forgiving by Desmond Tutu
– Why Won’t You Apologize? by Harriet Lerner
My hope now is to stop choosing people who must always right, never sorry, and determined to get their way at any cost—people stuck in binary thinking and zero-sum dynamics, where one must win and the other must lose.
I want to win with the people I love, not over them.
My deep need to engage honestly—to acknowledge and work through the mess—won’t align with those who need others to shrink, be wrong, or give in so they can feel right, in control, or above it all. I’m learning that real connection cannot be built on that kind of imbalance.
