As we move further into this new year, I’m noticing how easy it is to slip into familiar expectations.

To be better. To do more. To finally “get it right.”

But I’m beginning to trust something different.

This year doesn’t seem to be asking us to improve ourselves as much as it’s asking us to tell the truth about where we actually are.

And that truth can feel confronting.

I’m writing this as someone who deeply believes in extraordinary relationships — who studies them, teaches them, and aspires to live them — and who also falls short of sometimes creating even healthy, ordinary ones.

That gap between aspiration and reality has been a harsh teacher for me.

I want intimacy. I want depth. I want a kind of love that transforms.

And yet, the honest reality is this: we can only build what we currently have the capacity and the skill set to build. Desire alone is not enough.

One of the places this becomes most visible — at least in my own life — is around defensiveness.

I used to think defensiveness was about protecting my position or my intentions. Now I see it’s often protecting something much deeper.

What is so elusive for many of us — especially men — is defensiveness quietly strengthens the long-held and destructive lie: I’m not good enough.

Here is a deeply necessary part to understand, while protection through defensiveness once served us — protection through defensiveness as an adult almost always does more harm than good.

So when we’re held accountable…
when our words and actions don’t line up…
when a partner mirrors something uncomfortable back to us…

we defend.

Not because we’re cruel or uncaring — but because we’re afraid that the story beneath it all might be true.

And here’s the paradox I’m slowly learning to sit with:

Each moment of defensiveness reinforces the very belief that we wish was not true.

This has shown up painfully clear for me in my marriage.

My wife recently reflected something that stopped me in my tracks — I’m often comfortable sharing what I want people to know about me, and far less comfortable revealing the parts that know I’m falling short. In fact, I have a pattern of wanting to begin most conversations with a "win" or something positive. While on the surface we could argue there is nothing inherently wrong with this, I've come to (very) slowly realize that I have a tendency to do it to avoid truths I sometimes want to cover up.

The parts that carry shame. The parts that feel exposed. The parts that are still learning the language of intimacy — awkwardly, imperfectly — in midlife.

I’ve also had to face how much I wanted to be seen as the “nice guy,” the good guy, sometimes more than I wanted to be fully known. I didn’t realize how much energy was going into protecting an image instead of building a relationship capable of holding truth.

And yet… this is precisely where love does its deepest work.

Romantic partnership, like no other adult relationship, has the uncanny ability to both give us the dreams we long for and awaken the wounds we hoped were long buried or weren't even aware were there. Much like our earliest relationships, it invites us to grow up emotionally — not through comfort, but through honesty.

Love, it seems, isn’t just here to give us what we want.
It’s here to give us what we need.

And for many of us, what we need most is the courage to lean in when we want to pull away — especially when defensiveness rises.

To pause.
To breathe.
To get curious.

Not to shame ourselves. Not to perfect ourselves. But to allow life and love to grow us.

As this year continues to unfold, I want to encourage you — and me ☺️ — to become more honest, more present, and more available to the kind of love that can truly transform us.

May this season — and the days ahead — allow life to love you and grow you in exactly the ways you need.

With gratitude and humility,
​

Ry 🙏🏽

Licensed Therapist Personal Development I Relationship Growth ​RyanLandau.Live​

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