The 7 Super Early Relationship Mistakes I Made

I gave away my power and became vulnerable

I thought I found the elusive Prince Charming. My boyfriend, soon to be husband was handsome, smart, successful, and hysterically funny. An Irish Catholic guy who never met a party or a joke he didn’t like.

We seemed to have so much in common.

Until we didn’t.

The 7 Super Early Relationship Mistakes I Made.

I let someone make me cry

One day my sister said, “Colleen, you are not a crier. There’s only one person in your life who makes you cry.”

Such defining words, yet I disregarded them and stayed.

I knew she was right. I spent my life laughing. I could get a flat tire and show up with a smile on my face. But a man was bringing out a side of me that never existed. I should have run.

Worse, he had no problem with it.

I was manipulated into a life commitment

“Either we get engaged, or I’m leaving you,” he said.

I should have let him leave.

Instead, I rationalized I was being unfair. We had dated for four years. It seemed natural he would want a commitment. He was ready for the next phase of his life.

But I wasn’t. As a child of divorce, I was in no hurry. I should never have allowed someone to pressure me into a life commitment. An ultimatum is a form of manipulation — if I do this, I will get what I want.

And he did. But it was at the expense of me getting what I wanted, more time.

I was losing my independence

“I don’t like you working with all those guys,” he said.

Not long after we were married, it became apparent my husband didn’t want me working. I thought it was innocent jealousy. I found it endearing since he rarely displayed this.

He asked me to quit my job and help him build the business. Little by little I shed my independence and increased my vulnerability.

My husband’s ‘asks’ were generally large sacrifices for me. I didn’t recognize this. I was blind to him getting his way while I didn’t. We weren’t two becoming one, I was one fitting into another “one's” world.

I confused this team approach with the concept of marriage.

My husband projected confidence so I failed to see his subtle insecurities. A person who lacks self-esteem doesn’t love themselves enough to love another fully.

And they will never let you shine for fear of losing you.

I didn’t understand myself

“I never saw two people who got along so well,” my mother said.

I’m confused my mom didn’t recognize this dating red flag. I’m guessing because most people associate arguing with poor relationships.

What she should have asked is, “Colleen, you are a happy girl who wants to make everyone else around you happy. Is it possible there’s no conflict because you are giving in to keep the peace?”

Which is exactly what I was doing. In college, we did argue but eventually, there was never any resolution and I gave up. My husband didn’t grasp my needs.

I got tired of vocalizing them.

I didn’t recognize control

“You can break up with me, but not on the weekends,” my then-boyfriend said.

In my twenties, I had a definite fear of commitment. I wanted to take a break. I thought it would ensure a smart life decision. And a part of me was re-establishing my individual independence. I liked being on my own.

But he refused and said I could date during the week. On the weekends we would travel to see one another.

He wouldn’t let me go. I confused this with maturity. I believed he sensed my nervous apprehension. But nothing could have been further from the truth.

It was controlling.

I attracted not an opposite but an extreme

“You two are nothing alike,” my friend said.

Yes, we are, I protested! We are both extroverts, sales personalities, Irish, Catholic, business majors, and more.

I soon determined she was right.

My husband and I had surface commonalities.

Internally, we weren’t opposites, we were extremes. I was extremely empathetic, he lacked empathy. I was selfless, he was selfish. I was all about family. He was all about himself. I came from a family of first responders who worried about strangers. My husband was a diagnosed narcissist who cared only about himself. Our values did not align.

We were a good time Charlotte and Charlie. No one made me laugh the way my husband did. We loved people and a crowd. I didn’t realize while I was talking he wasn’t absorbing anything. We had zero emotional intimacy.

I was deep and he was surface.

I confused loyalty with enabling

“If we weren’t sister-in-law’s, we’d be best friends.”

My husband’s sister’s and I used to say that to one another. It was sincere, I loved them and even in divorce, they remain a true loss to me.

I would call his one sister and confide in her. No, I would cry and all-out bawl to her over the phone. I couldn’t yet make sense of my husband’s random cruelty. I knew if I told my family and friends what he was really doing they would hate him.

Keeping his secrets wasn’t loyalty, it was enabling.

There are some commonalities among these seven things.

Control and understanding my own personality.

I was a strong woman. But I was confident and content and not much bothered me. Making allowances for others to be happy wasn’t difficult. I had a natural joy of life.

In marriage counseling, I was told I had a propensity to attract myself to difficult personalities.

That I lacked self-protective mechanisms and boundaries. And I was confusing kindness with enabling. I learned about the roles we play in our families while growing up. I was a pleaser and a fixer.

My marriage ultimately overwhelmed me.

Because I tolerated too much and gave away my power to the point of powerlessness. I was susceptible to being controlled.

I became vulnerable to another human being who would never meet my needs.

Because I unknowingly didn’t meet my own.