
Dear Sahaj: I am retired. My former husband and my subsequent long-term partner both died. I’ve been with S for five years now. He refuses to marry me, claiming the reason is that he is so much wealthier than me. He has no children, by choice, and says it’s because he doesn’t want any of his money to get to my now adult kids. He has a temper, is uncompromising and judgmental, and has managed to seriously offend most of my dearest long-term friends, who wonder why I remain with him. Remaining in this relationship is difficult for me, as I feel micromanaged, put down and criticized much of the time.
I have a therapist, who believes he compromises my mental health. She thinks my depression would improve if I left him, but I’m fearful of ending up alone, as many older people do. I don’t know why I can’t get up the nerve to leave him! I have my own nice place, a secure but small income, a loving son living nearby and long-term friends. What’s holding me back from leaving him?
– Stuck
Stuck: As I see it, you have already survived profound loss, and it’s possible you (and your nervous system!) are choosing “known pain” over an uncertain sense of safety. There is something predictable about being with S – even if it hurts you – that feels safer and more certain than living alone.
But that’s not romance. That’s survival.
I want you to tune into that part of you that wants to stay in this relationship. Go inward and be gentle with yourself, but be really honest about what is keeping you here. Is that part of you scared of not having daily or romantic companionship? Is that part of you waiting and hoping for him to change his mind or soften his behavior? Is it because you firmly believe that when you commit in a relationship (as you did with your ex-partner), you must stick out the good and bad no matter what? Is it a belief that as you age you become less worthy of kind, committed love?
This part of you isn’t logical. It doesn’t care about what others think. It is scared and is protecting you from something. I encourage you to work with your therapist to figure out what that something is.
Then, instead of asking, “Why can’t I leave?” start asking yourself what staying is costing you. What needs have you silenced since being with him? How have you changed in the relationship? What do others (those you trust) see about this dynamic that you can start to listen to? Decisions become clearer when you stop focusing on the fear of leaving and start accounting for the cost of staying. Even more, think about what you would tell one of your long-term friends if they wrote to you with this same question. I have a feeling you know what you want to do, but you’re seeking some sort of permission or an overwhelming emotional readiness to do it.
But readiness isn’t a feeling. It’s a choice. When I work with clients who want to make a painful change, ambivalence is often the space between preparation and action. Attachment and harm coexist, and grief and hope live in the same space. You have to decide if the attachment can outweigh the harm. It won’t matter how often others try to love you into seeing this relationship for what it is … you have to be the one who decides to take action.
Patterns of chronic criticism, control and power imbalance can erode a person’s sense of self over time. When a relationship consistently makes you feel smaller, that harm deserves to be taken seriously – regardless of intent. Your loved ones are waiting for you to see what they see so clearly. I hope you can take some time to really befriend the part of you that is keeping you in this relationship and ask her to play a different role – one that helps you grieve, be brave and plan your next steps. But only if that is what you really want for yourself.



