As a young girl from a large family, I strived for independence. I was the 7th of 9 children growing up in rural Canada. I remember crying one morning, standing on our front step, as I saw my brothers and sisters driving away down the lane to work in the fields.

Crocodile tears came down my cheeks because I wasn’t allowed to go along. I was too young to work and therefore, too young to make money.

My parents were extremely hard-working and loving. My father left The Netherlands with dreams of farming thousands of acres of land. The land was scarce in Holland, so farming land as far as the eye could see was incredibly attractive. He made his dream come true.

In my small community of Roman Catholic immigrants, all I saw around me were hard-working people. Between seeing images of my father walking into the house in his dirt-laden overalls and my mom cooking or washing clothes for what seemed constant, I often remember hearing the phrase ‘time is money.’

Fast forward to 1986, the year of my high school graduation, I achieved university entrance scholarships and set out to be ‘Miss Independent.’ I had no idea how this mindset would affect my life, especially my relationships.

In my university years, I could be described as sweet, fun, loving, but serious. I didn’t like to waste time. I always strived to be efficient. The words efficient, functional, responsible, purposeful and sensible could have been tattooed on my forehead. I was smart, but I needed to work for my high grades. I love to write, but the sciences were challenging.

By 25, I had a master’s degree; by 27, I was married. Despite losing my dad to cancer the same year I was married and two brothers tragically prior, life seemed complete. Now it was work, family, rinse and repeat. However, at 40, with three children, I returned to school and got an interdisciplinary  Ph.D. in psychology, education, linguistics and nursing. I also decided I wanted to take back my maiden name.

Notice how often I use the word “I” and not “we.” Yes, not a good sign in any partnership, let alone one that is supposed to be a lifelong partnership.

I didn’t end with the PhD either. I went on to gain many more certifications, including clinical hypnotherapy and specialized training in couple counselling and functional medicine. I even wrote four books specializing in language acquisition and created an online program. I identified as my work. My work was my worth.

What I didn’t know then but understand so well now is the damaging effect my miss independent attitude caused in my role as a wife, mom, daughter, sister, girlfriend and so on.

As children, we learn from the images we see around us and the words we hear. In adulthood, we go about on autopilot, not fully knowing what we are doing or why. We just do life a certain way because it is the only way we know.

And hence the problem: we don’t know what we don’t know.

We could stand up and defend our innocence all day long and continue to distract from life, except life continues to happen around us. Life is a dance. An intrapersonal experience. We affect others through our behaviours, and others affect us. Not only is isolation not good for the soul, it is impossible. How you ‘be’ not only affects others, it will eventually affect you. You cannot escape your mind. You go to bed with yourself every day and wake up with yourself every morning. That is how life works.

As a psychotherapist, this is, in essence, my work. People came to me in their midlife years not knowing who they were internally because they were too focused on what they were trying to be for everyone else. We, as therapists, have a saying: Our own problems walk into our rooms. If you found a good therapist, chances are she or he has lived part of your story. They get you.

Even as selfish as my story portrays me to be, in my mind, I was doing it for everyone else. I put all my time and effort into my work for my husband and children. As crazy as it sounds, in my mind, it was all out of love for my family. I was in the ‘prove it’ energy.

The words time equals money, put on repeat in my mind, stripped away connections with my family, especially my husband.

As a mother, it is much more difficult to starve your children from time and affection because of mommy guilt. But for your husband, it is much easier. For me, it was a tie between young children and work, then my self-care (I always prioritized daily movement because it fed my soul), and then I gave whatever scraps were left to my husband. And every time he wronged me, it was just another reason, another feather in my hat, to starve him of even more affection.

This cycle continued until I woke up approximately one and a half years ago and dived deeply into journalling, reading and receiving mentorship. I started to stay in the discomfort of being vulnerable and express my feelings during hurt moments. I remained still and silent when my husband expressed his hurt, sadness, and vulnerability.

This is the thing. We all hurt and have been hurt. We all need to heal the hurt. But you can’t heal unless you feel.

Expression is the opposite of depression. And for an independent woman, expressing your needs is incredibly difficult. However, every smart, strong, independent woman knows a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

If you want to create a delicious meal of change and growth, the first course starts with a conversation, often accompanied by a hefty serving of discomfort and topped with some form of behaviour change.  Remember to start with something light, chew slowly for good digestion, use your manners, always serve warm, and if you are like me, finish your meal with something sweet.