When I Idolized My Husband, and Then Resented Him Into Oblivion
How childhood wounds, unrealistic expectations, and emotional baggage nearly broke the intimacy we were meant to build
When I first met Michael, I was head over heels.
I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on—and honestly, I still do. I was captivated by his presence. His voice. His eyes. His mind. I couldn’t believe someone like him would want to be with someone like me—and the insecurity I already carried only made my awe of him grow stronger.
He was everything my father wasn’t:
Kind.
Thoughtful.
Emotionally stable.
Spiritually rooted.
Safe.
And in my wounded heart, that safety felt like salvation.
It felt like walking out of a storm and finally stepping into shelter. Like I had been soaked in rejection for years, and here was someone who saw me and didn’t turn away. That alone felt like a miracle. But here’s the thing: when you’ve spent years in survival mode, any form of kindness can feel like divinity. And I began to mistake Michael’s goodness for godliness—not in a spiritual sense, but in a misplaced emotional one. I saw him as my redeemer, when he was only ever meant to be my partner.
From Admiration to Idolization
Looking back now, I realize what I did. I didn’t just admire him—I idolized him. And as beautiful and life-giving as our relationship was in those early days, that idolization came with side effects I couldn’t see at the time.
I made Michael the opposite of my father—and in some ways, that was comforting. But it also meant I elevated him to a place no human being is supposed to occupy. I saw him as the one who would fix the broken parts of me, who would never let me down, who would always do the right thing, say the right thing, be the right person.
But here’s the truth: when you put someone on a pedestal, you’re not loving them—you’re performing worship. And only God can handle worship.
Idolization is like inflating a balloon too much. It looks big, impressive, almost magical—until it pops. Because no human being was made to carry that kind of pressure. When we idolize our spouse, we’re not loving them—we’re burdening them. We’re saying, “I need you to be perfect, because if you’re not, I’ll fall apart.” That’s not intimacy. That’s dependency dressed up as romance.
From Idolization to Resentment
So what happened?
We got married.
And real life started.
And when Michael began to show flaws—which every human does—I didn’t know how to handle it. I swung hard in the opposite direction. I went from idolizing him to resenting him.
His flaws felt like betrayal. His bad days felt like abandonment. Every time he disappointed me, I took it personally. And instead of seeing him as the man I respected and loved, I started seeing him through the old lens I had developed with my father—a man who will fail me.
And I started projecting.
I took the baggage I carried from my childhood and high school—the pain, the fear, the abandonment, the criticism—and I laid it all at his feet. Not intentionally. But subconsciously. Deeply. Repeatedly.
And it wasn’t fair.
It’s like flipping a switch from worship to warfare. First, he could do no wrong. Then, it felt like he could do nothing right. I didn’t just start noticing his flaws—I magnified them. Every time he forgot something or handled a situation differently than I would have, it confirmed the script in my head: See? He’s just like your father. And that projection poisoned the well. It didn't matter that it wasn’t true. My wounds had already decided the narrative.
The Injustice of Projection
Here’s what I’ve come to realize:
When we project our baggage onto our spouse, we are asking them to answer for sins they never committed.
We make them responsible for wounds they didn’t cause.
We punish them for the failures of people who came before them.
And in doing so, we commit a kind of emotional injustice.
It’s like handing your husband a suitcase full of grief, fear, and anger and expecting him to carry it—and then getting mad when he doesn’t carry it perfectly.
It’s not just unhelpful.
It’s unjust.
Imagine being handed a backpack filled with bricks labeled “dad’s anger,” “mom’s silence,” “middle school rejection,” “body shame,” and then being told, “Carry this, and don’t complain.” That’s what it’s like when we project. We don’t just hurt our spouse—we confuse them. They’re trying to love us in the present, but we’re reacting to ghosts from the past.
The Need for Respect and Admiration
What I’ve learned the hard way is this:
You don’t need to idolize your husband.
But you do need to respect him.
You should admire him.
There is nothing weak, desperate, or inferior about looking at your husband and thinking,
“You are an incredible man, and I’m grateful to be loved by you.”
Admiration in marriage is not dangerous—idolization is.
Respect means seeing your spouse’s gifts with clarity.
Admiration means being willing to say, “There are things in you that I look up to.”
And if you don’t admire your spouse at all—if you can’t name one thing you truly respect about him—that’s not a small issue. That’s a foundational crack in the relationship.
Because if you don’t respect someone, it becomes incredibly easy to disregard them.
Their opinions. Their concerns. Their leadership. Their voice.
And once that respect is gone, disconnection will follow.
Respect is the soil where love can grow. And if a wife doesn’t respect her husband, it’s like trying to plant seeds in concrete. Nothing takes root. The marriage begins to feel like a constant negotiation instead of a partnership. If your husband is a man who follows Christ, who tries to walk in righteousness—even imperfectly—then he is a leader worth following.
Letting your husband lead is not weakness. It’s wisdom. When a good man is trying to lead in love, and his wife refuses to follow—not because of discernment, but because of pride or past pain—the entire home suffers.
A home cannot function when its foundation is divided.
And that division often begins the moment respect disappears.
Letting Him Help You Unpack the Baggage
I brought a lot into our marriage.
Suitcases full of insecurity, trauma, fear, and self-hatred.
And I used to think it was my job to unpack it all by myself.
But marriage is a partnership—not just in joy, but in healing.
Michael can’t fix my wounds. But he can stand with me while I face them.
He can hand me a truth when I start listening to a lie.
He can remind me who I am when shame tries to redefine me.
He can love me in the middle of my mess, not just at the end of it.
But in order for that to happen, I have to let him in.
And I have to stop making him responsible for baggage that doesn’t belong to him.
Marriage isn't just a vacation where you bring matching luggage—it's a journey of sanctification. And sometimes, that means sitting on the floor of your shared life, unzipping old bags, and saying, “I didn’t know this was still in here.”
But here's the grace: a godly husband doesn't walk away when he sees the mess. He leans in. He says, “Let’s deal with it together.” You just have to be humble enough to let him help.
A Word to the Wife Who's Doing What I Did
If you’re reading this and realizing you’ve done the same—idolized, then overcorrected, then disrespected—can I just say: you’re not alone.
This isn’t about guilt. It’s about awareness.
And awareness is where healing begins.
Ask yourself:
Have I projected pain from my past onto my husband?
Have I made him pay for someone else’s sins?
Have I stopped admiring and respecting him?
If so, it’s not too late to course-correct.
Marriage is about two imperfect people saying:
“I will keep choosing you—even when you fail.
And I will keep working on me—even when it’s hard.”
That’s where I am now.
Not perfect. Not finished.
But slowly, steadily learning to admire again.
To unpack the baggage, not throw it.
To love—not through fantasy, but through faithfulness.
Reflection & Prayer: For the Wife Who’s Projecting Her Pain
Before you close this tab or scroll to the next thing, take a moment. Still your heart. Let this be a space of honest self-examination.
Ask yourself:
Am I expecting my husband to heal wounds he didn’t cause?
Do I admire and respect him, or have I stopped seeing his goodness?
Have I made it safe for him to love me in my healing?
Now pray this slowly—word by word:
“Lord, help me see my husband clearly—not through the lens of my past, but through the eyes of grace.
Help me admire him for who he is, not who I expected him to be.
Heal the places where I’ve projected.
Teach me to unpack my baggage with humility.
And let our marriage become a place of mutual respect, honest love, and deep healing.
Amen.”
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With grace and ongoing growth,
Claire Elise Bennett, PhD
Wife, Mother, Counselor, Daughter of the Church
