There have been moments in my marriage when I have felt completely done, and over our more than thirty years together there have been times when I have said the words, “I’m leaving.” In those moments, I meant it. Whatever was happening between us had become so painful or overwhelming that leaving felt like the clearest thing I knew and I could feel absolutely certain that I couldn’t do it anymore.
And then something would shift. Sometimes it took hours and sometimes days, but as the intensity settled, I could begin to access the fuller picture again. I could hear my husband differently, recognize my own contribution to what had happened, and hold whatever was hurting between us alongside everything else I knew about our life together and eventually I would realize that I wasn’t done anymore.
For a long time, I understood this through the lens of attachment. My husband and I have a familiar pattern in which I tend to move toward him when I experience disconnection because I want to talk, understand what is happening and resolve it, while he is more likely to need space when he becomes overwhelmed. The more he moves away, the more urgent I can become and the more urgent I become the more overwhelmed he feels which can leave us caught in a pattern that neither of us is actually trying to create.
Attachment helped me understand that dance and why distance could feel so threatening to me but it never fully explained why I could become so certain that I was done or why so much of what I knew about us seemed to become inaccessible when I was overwhelmed and then available again once I had settled.
I have recognized versions of this experience in some of my clients too. Every person and relationship is different, but I have sat with people for whom “I can’t do this right now” seems to arrive as “I can’t do this relationship anymore.” I have also sat with partners on the receiving end who are trying to understand how someone they love can feel so certain that the relationship is over and then feel very differently once the intensity has passed. It can be incredibly painful to be inside this experience, and equally painful to be on the other side of it.
The image that has come to make the most sense to me is an undertow.
The Undertow
When I am deeply overwhelmed I can get pulled so far into the distress of what is happening that my access to everything else becomes limited. On an ordinary day, I know that I love my husband, I know the life we have built and the things we have survived and I can hold the places where we struggle alongside the many ways we fit together. In the undertow, whatever is happening between us moves into the foreground while everything else recedes and the hurt and disconnection can become so consuming that they begin to feel like the whole truth.
There is language that has helped me understand what happens in those moments. Attentional narrowing can make information outside our immediate distress harder to access, while reduced cognitive flexibility can make it more difficult to shift perspective or hold competing truths at the same time. When I am regulated I can know that I am furious with my husband and that I love him, or that something between us needs to change and that I still want to be here, but when I am overwhelmed that and becomes much harder to find.
There is also state-dependent access which describes how what we are able to access about ourselves, another person, and our relationship can change depending on the state we are in. This helped me understand that the version of me who said “I’m leaving” wasn’t lying; I meant it from where I was, but I was trying to make sense of something as large and complicated as my marriage while having access to a much smaller part of what I knew about it.
When our capacity is exceeded, our nervous system can also begin looking for a way out and I can see now how I need this conversation to stop can become I need this feeling to stop, then I need to get away and eventually I’m done. What I understand differently now is that there have been times when I haven’t needed out of my marriage at all; I have needed out of the intensity of what I was experiencing in that moment.
This doesn’t mean that thoughts of leaving should be dismissed because sometimes they are important information about the relationship and something that needs our attention. For me, it means becoming curious before deciding what the urge means and asking myself whether I am trying to get away from my marriage or from the intensity, disconnection or uncertainty I am experiencing right now.
Stepping Away Without Leaving
One of the biggest changes for me has been learning to recognize when I am in the undertow and to understand it for what it is. When everything starts to feel absolute my urge to resolve things becomes stronger and I begin to feel certain that I am done I am getting better at recognizing that this is probably not the time to keep talking or to decide what any of it means. It is a sign that I need some space.
My instinct has often been to keep talking until we understand each other and things feel settled again but I know now that there is a point when continuing the conversation only pulls me further under. Taking space might mean being quiet for a while, going for a walk, writing, sleeping on it or simply allowing some time to pass so that I can settle and regain some perspective before we continue.
I am learning that I don’t have to figure out my marriage from inside the undertow. I can recognize what is happening, step away and give myself the time I need to come back to myself. Stepping away from the conversation is not the same as stepping away from my marriage, and I can trust that we can return to what happened between us when I have more capacity to listen, understand and be curious.
Repair
Understanding this about myself has also meant facing the impact it has had on my husband. I may come out of the undertow feeling clear again about wanting our marriage, but he has still heard me say “I’m leaving,” and my nervous system settling doesn’t erase what it was like for him to hear those words.
We have both had work to do. I have learned to recognize what is happening earlier and take space rather than push for resolution, while he has learned to take the space he needs while reassuring me that he is coming back. Understanding the undertow has created more compassion between us, but it has also meant taking responsibility for the impact we have on each other.
After more than thirty years together, we are still learning each other and I am still learning myself. Understanding the undertow has helped me recognize what is happening earlier and know that I don’t have to make decisions about my marriage from inside it. When I feel completely done, I can take the space I need, allow the fuller picture to return, and then find my way back to him.