Discovering My Sweater of Defense
Trading in my armor for openheartedness.
For most of my life, I have been warm, accessible, and authentic.
Actually, I knew how to act that way. Years of musical theater taught me how to wear different costumes, step into different roles, and convince an audience of any character I embodied. After I gave up theater, I moved to public speaking, which is just more like "normal people" characters.
But beneath it all, I carried an invisible costume—one I never realized I had never taken off.
It was a suit of armor.
I learned how to armor up as a child, long before I had the words to understand why. Severe trauma taught me that the world was not safe, that vulnerability was dangerous, that protection was necessary. And no matter how much healing work I did, no matter how much therapy, growth, and recovery I pursued, I wasn’t fully aware of how fiercely I had protected myself.
The Moment of Truth
My therapist once told me, "Defensiveness is learned." And I have lived that.
The year I turned 40, I realized: I didn’t just wear my own armor—I surrounded myself with others who were equally guarded.
I was drawn to people who were emotionally unavailable, mirroring the ways I kept myself walled off. Even some of my mentors and closest friends carried an insidious level of defensiveness.
Then one day, it all became painfully clear.
I don’t remember the exact trigger, but I remember the crushing realization: I had indulged the defensiveness in others because it was familiar. And worse—I was defensive more often than not.
That day, I gave it a name: my sweater of defense.
A sweater sounds cozy, right? Familiar. Safe. It gives the illusion of warmth, the illusion of comfort. But this sweater wasn’t keeping me warm—it was keeping me captive. It was keeping me from full freedom in my relationships, my career, and my own self-expression.
Taking the Sweater Off
Since that realization, my life has taken a 180. Not because I willed it into being, but because I now see the moments when I reach for my sweater of defense. And I make the conscious choice to take it off.
Some days, I take it off once, breathe deep, and let myself be seen. Other days, I take it off multiple times—when my instinct is to shut down, when I want to push someone away, when I feel the urge to prove something rather than just be.
I’m still learning what it feels like to live without my armor. To trust that I am safe, even when I’m open. To let myself be loved, fully, without conditions.
Maybe you have your own version of the sweater. Maybe it looks like perfectionism. Or hyper-independence. Or humor that keeps people at arm’s length. Maybe you, like me, have been wearing it so long you didn’t even realize it was there.
If that’s the case, I invite you to try something: Just take it off, for a moment.
See what happens when you don’t default to defense. When you don’t explain, justify, or protect. See what it feels like to stand as you are, without the weight of the costume.
You might just realize, like I did, that freedom was waiting for you all along.
So I’m curious: Does this resonate with you? Let me know. You can reply here and I’ll respond back.
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