Dear Prudence,
My daughter “Serena,” who’s now 30, is in what could be a beautiful relationship with a man who adores her, yet all she can focus on is her disgust with the very idea of marriage. She says the thought of being a wife makes her feel “physically ill.” She talks about it like it’s some kind of prison sentence, as though the mere idea of compromise is an attack on her very soul. I feel like I’ve failed as a mother. How could I have raised such a bitter, destructive person?
I understand a bit about where this darkness is coming from. Her father and I had an ugly divorce resulting from his constant cheating, and her stepfather and I also had an ugly divorce when he became extremely emotionally abusive—but I tried as hard as I could to shield her from the worst of it. As a result of the trauma she experienced from witnessing my failed marriages, here she is, seeing the world through this lens of suspicion, always expecting betrayal. She clings to her bitterness like it’s armor, refusing to let herself be vulnerable to love, and it’s heartbreaking to watch. She doesn’t see that her boyfriend “Ian”—who, by the way, is “nothing” like the men she’s comparing him to—is doing everything in his power to be patient, to love her through her walls, but she won’t let him in.
I can’t even talk to her about it because she gets defensive, as if admitting that marriage isn’t some trap would mean giving up control. She always has to be in control, and I think she’s terrified of what might happen if she let someone take care of her for once. It’s like watching her build her own emotional fortress, brick by brick, shutting everyone out, and I just want to scream because she’s not protecting herself—she’s isolating herself.
And then there’s Ian. He’s such a warm, confident man, always trying to bring light into her life. He sees her strength and respects it, but I don’t know how long he can keep fighting for someone who doesn’t even believe in the possibility of joy. I can tell he’s growing weary, and I’m terrified that one day he’ll realize she’s just pushing him away, over and over, until he leaves. And then she’ll spiral even deeper into that toxic pit of resentment and blame, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull her out.
I’ve tried everything—talking, crying, begging her to see that love isn’t a weakness, that it’s not about submission or losing herself. But she’s so entrenched in her cynicism, so committed to being right, that she’s willing to sacrifice her own happiness just to avoid feeling vulnerable. How did we end up here? Is it too late for her to change, to let love in before she drives everyone away?
—Heartbroken and Helpless Mom