122. You Have Built A Glass Wall: And It Is Keeping You Stuck

In this episode of After the Affair, we explore a powerful metaphor, the “glass wall.” It’s the invisible barrier that betrayed partners often build after infidelity. From the outside, it looks like openness and connection, but from the inside, it’s a shield, keeping you emotionally safe but painfully disconnected.

I’ll unpack how these walls form, how they evolve from solid brick to deceptive glass, and the signs that you might still be behind one. Most importantly, I’ll discuss how to start dismantling the glass wall, brick by brick, to foster true vulnerability, connection, and healing in your relationship.

Whether you’re a betrayed or unfaithful partner, this episode is a must-listen for anyone navigating the complexities of rebuilding trust and intimacy after betrayal.

Key Takeaways:

• The progression from a brick wall to a glass wall: why it happens and how it impacts relationships.

• Signs you’re living behind a glass wall and how it might keep you stuck in pain.

• Why safety can feel comforting, but comes at the cost of connection and intimacy.

• Practical strategies to recognize and begin dismantling the emotional barriers that prevent true healing.

💬 Reflection Questions:

Do you feel emotionally safe but disconnected in your relationship? Are there walls, brick, or glass that you’ve built to protect yourself? What small step could you take this week toward vulnerability and connection?

Connect with Luke:

• Website: www.lifecoachluke.com

• Instagram: @mylifecoachluke

• Email: luke@lifecoachluke.com

Join the After the Affair community at www.facebook.com/groups/aftertheaffaircommunity

Episode Transcript:

You're sitting across from your partner, you're having what seems like an open and honest conversation. They're sharing their thoughts, you're nodding and maybe even offering a few words in return. From the outside it looks like connection, but inside it feels different.

There's a distance that you can't quite describe, a barrier you can't quite see, but you know it's there. It's what I like to call the glass wall. It's clear enough to see through, yet it's strong enough to keep you safe.

Yet it's still a wall. Today I want to explore where this glass wall truly comes from, why it forms after betrayal and how to decide if and when it's time to take it down. Because while it might protect you, it might also be the very thing standing in the way of real healing.

The After The Affair podcast with me Luke Shillings is here to help you process, decide and move forward on purpose following infidelity. Together we'll explore what's required to rebuild trust, not only in yourself but also with others. Whether you stay or leave, I can help and no matter what your story, there will be something here for you.

Let's go! Hello, I'm Luke Shillings and welcome back to the After The Affair podcast. You're listening to episode number 122. They can see you, they can hear you and maybe even feel like they're connecting with you, but for you there's this invisible barrier.

It's this glass wall. It's clear, it's fragile, but it's unyielding and it protects you, but it can also isolate you. This glass wall, where does it come from? How does it impact your healing and your relationship? And most importantly, how do you start breaking it down? If you've ever felt like you're emotionally stuck, you're wanting connection but you're also fearing vulnerability, this episode is for you.

But before we can talk about truly dismantling this glass wall, let's get a better understanding of how it was built in the first place. So let me paint a picture for you. It starts small, usually almost imperceptibly so.

Maybe just a crack in the foundation of trust. Maybe it's a subtle lie, a distant glance or even a gut feeling that something isn't quite right. You brush it off, you tell yourself that you're overthinking, but then it happens again and again.

The cracks, they deepen and before you know it, the foundation that you once felt so secure on begins to shift beneath your feet. It's at this point that you put the first brick. You lay it between you and your partner.

It comes from a place of shock. It's a moment where time feels frozen and all you can think is, how could they do this? How could I not see it? And this first brick, it's heavy. It's made of pain and disbelief and it sits square between you.

In the days and weeks that follow, more bricks are added. These aren't just random blocks, they're forged from specific moments, like the memory of reading those texts or a confession that came too late. Every interaction, it feels like it carries weight.

Your partner says something that feels dismissive or defensive. You put another brick down. You try to express your pain and they seem unable to truly understand.

Guess what? You put another brick down. This wall gradually getting higher and higher. Every misunderstanding, every misstep just keeps adding to the structure.

What's really interesting is that some of these bricks aren't even about your partner. They come from within. They're built from the self-doubt that creeps in, the questions that you keep asking yourself in the middle of the night.

Wasn't I enough? Did I miss the signs? Am I even worthy of love? And these thoughts, heavy with shame and uncertainty, they just add to the wall just as much as your partner's actions do. Over time, the wall grows taller and sturdier. You build it up higher and higher, row by row.

And it's not just a barrier, it's like a fortress. You feel safe behind it, shielded from further hurt, but you also feel the distance that it creates. Conversations.

They become strained. You stop sharing your true thoughts and feelings. Not because you don't want to, but because it feels pointless.

They won't understand. You tell yourself, or worse, they don't deserve to know. Then something shifts.

Maybe it's time. Maybe it's the effort your partner puts into trying to rebuild trust. And the bricks, they start to come down, one by one.

You let your partner see you again, or at least you let them think that they do. But instead of removing the wall entirely, you take each brick down and you replace it with glass. Glass, it feels safer.

It's transparent for a start. You can see your partner's efforts. You can see their remorse, their pain.

But it still keeps you protected. You can observe without fully engaging. You can hear them without risking being truly heard yourself.

From their perspective, it looks like progress. They see you on the other side and think the wall is gone. But for you, the glass still serves as a shield.

It's a way to stay safe while still maintaining the illusion of connection. And yet, the glass wall has its own cost. You may not feel the full brunt of vulnerability.

That's true. But you also don't feel the warmth of true connection. It's like standing outside on a winter's day, watching the world through a frosted window.

You can see the light. You can see the life. But you can't quite feel it.

This wall, first brick, then glass, isn't built out of necessarily malice or even spite. It's built out of survival. After betrayal, the thought of opening yourself up again, it feels like stepping onto thin ice.

The wall, whether it be made of bricks or glass, is your way of saying I need to feel safe before I can let you in. But here's the challenge. While the wall protects you, it also keeps you stuck.

It's a defence mechanism after all, not a solution. The longer it stays up, the harder it becomes to take it down. And yet, taking it down is essential if you want to move forward, whether that's together with your partner or independently.

In the rest of this episode, I want to explore how to recognise when you're living behind a glass wall, what it's costing you, and most importantly, how to start dismantling it. Stay with me, because the work of breaking down these barriers isn't easy, but it is possible, and on the other side of that wall is the connection, maybe the healing, but certainly the freedom that you absolutely deserve. When betrayal strikes, the instinct to protect yourself is overwhelming.

It's like your mind screams, no more, I can't risk this happening again. And so, almost without thinking, you begin to build. It's that motivational triad.

We're avoiding discomfort, we're seeking pleasure. Well, avoiding discomfort is pretty important. We don't want pain, so we put something in place to try and protect us.

The first brick might go up in the moment after discovery, a mental note to keep them at arm's length, a vow not to let them too close. You might say to yourself, I just need some space, or I can't let them hurt me again. This initial barrier feels like a self-preservation.

You tell yourself it's temporary, just something to give you time to think, to breathe, to process. But then another brick follows, and maybe it's after a conversation where they don't fully acknowledge your pain. Maybe it's the way they seem more defensive than remorseful, or maybe it's simply the weight of the betrayal sinking in, making you feel like you can't risk being vulnerable again.

Brick by brick, the wall grows, and at first it feels like armour. It's solid, secure, impenetrable. It keeps you safe from the hurt you fear might come if you allow yourself to be open.

It feels justified. Of course you need this wall. They broke your trust.

They betrayed you. Why wouldn't you protect yourself? But here's the thing about walls. While they keep harm out, they also keep everything else out, and communication becomes increasingly difficult.

You find yourself less willing to share your thoughts or feelings because you don't know if they'll be met with understanding, or worse, if they'll be weaponised against you. The wall, which is once a refuge, becomes a prison, isolating you from the person you're actually trying to protect yourself from, or in some cases trying to reconnect with. And in the early stages this feels completely necessary, and maybe to some point it is.

The pain is too raw. The wound's too fresh, and that's okay. It's natural to need time and space to process.

But as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, you might find that that wall no longer serves you the way it once did, and instead of keeping you safe, it keeps you trapped. Then something starts to shift. Maybe it's because your partner begins to show remorse.

They express their pain at the damage they've caused, or they make visible efforts to repair what's been broken. Perhaps it's because time has softened some of the initial shock, and you're curious if healing might actually be possible. So you do something you haven't done since the wall went up.

You remove a brick. Just one, then another. But instead of fully dismantling the wall, you're replacing it.

Again, not with openness or vulnerability, but with this glass. This glass that feels safe. It's transparent.

You can see through it. You can hear through it. You can even talk through it, and from the outside it looks like progress.

Your partner might believe the wall is gone. That the two of you are beginning to connect again. But for you, it's still a barrier.

It allows you to watch and listen without being fully seen. It lets you maintain a sense of control over what parts of yourself you reveal, while still keeping your deepest wounds protected. The shift from brick to glass is subtle, but it's profound.

The brick wall blocked everything. It was a complete shutdown. The glass wall, on the other hand, creates the illusion of connection.

It's easy to convince yourself, well this is good enough. You know, I'm still protecting myself, but at least we're communicating. But the truth is, the glass wall can be just as isolating as the bricks.

The danger lies in what the glass wall hides. From your partner's perspective, it looks like they're being let back in. They can see your face.

They can hear your words, and maybe even believe that they're rebuilding trust. But they can't feel you. They don't see the emotional distance that you're maintaining, or the internal monologue running through your mind.

One that perhaps says, I'm not ready to trust you. I can't afford to be vulnerable. It's not safe.

And for you, the glass wall might feel like the best of both worlds. You're both protecting your heart, whilst allowing some sort of semblance of connection. But in reality, it creates a one-way relationship.

You observe them, but they can't fully or truly connect with you. You listen, but you don't feel safe enough to share. And over time, this lack of depth can erode any progress that's being made, leaving both of you feeling frustrated, disconnected.

The glass wall is fragile, of course. One wrong move, one misunderstanding, and it can shatter. But its fragility isn't its only issue.

Because unlike the brick wall, which was built out of necessity, the glass wall is built out of fear. Fear of being hurt again, of being vulnerable, of risking trust, and that fear, while understandable, keeps you from fully healing and truly rebuilding your relationship. Let's be clear, pun not intended, the glass wall isn't a failure.

It's a survival mechanism. It's your way of saying, I want to believe we can heal, but I'm not ready to risk myself yet. And that's okay.

Recognising that the wall exists is the first step towards understanding it. It's not about necessarily tearing it down all at once. That would be, well, potentially overwhelming and in some cases unrealistic.

It's about slowly and intentionally deciding when and how to take it down, piece by piece. In the next part, I want to explore how to recognise when you're living behind the glass wall, what it's costing you, and most importantly, how to start dismantling it. So how do you know if you're living behind a glass wall? Let's break it down a little bit with maybe some nuance, a little bit of detail.

Here are some of the telltale signs that I've spotted. Number one, conversations can feel really hollow. You're talking, sure, but it's not the kind of talking that brings you any closer.

It's the surface level, you know, discussions about schedules, logistics, or maybe even shared memories that feel distant. What's missing is the depth, the willingness to say, I'm scared, or I'm still hurting. Instead, the emotional content stays locked away, as if the glass wall filters out the vulnerability before it can even escape.

Number two, you control the narrative. Behind every glass wall, your mind often replays the same loop. You go over the betrayal, analysing every detail, every hurtful word, and every missed opportunity.

But here's the catch, it's all happening in your head, not in the shared space of the relationship. This internal echo chamber may feel like processing, but it often keeps you stuck, reinforcing the pain and the mistrust rather than paving the way forward. It's as if you're trying to rewrite the story alone, but the ending never changes.

Number three, you avoid vulnerability. Even when your partner makes an effort to connect, you hold back. Maybe they apologise, they try to share their emotions, or ask how you're feeling, but your inner voice whispers, what's the point? They don't understand, what if I get hurt again? And this fear creates a reflexive withdrawal, ensuring the wall stays firmly in place, and vulnerability feels like a risk that you just can't afford to take.

So you choose the safety of isolation over the chance of connection. Number four, you feel emotionally safe, but completely disconnected. The glass wall is comforting you in its own way.

It protects you from the raw, unpredictable pain of being exposed. You don't have to worry about being blindsided by more hurt, but there's a cost. The safety comes with loneliness.

Without genuine intimacy, the connection you crave feels just out of reach. You're physically present, but emotionally you're removed. You're caught between the desire to protect yourself and the yearning for something deeper.

Now this is the limbo, the state where so many betrayed partners find themselves, balancing the need for safety against the longing for connection. It's a difficult, vulnerable space to navigate, but recognising the signs of the glass wall is the first step in deciding whether it's serving you or keeping you stuck. And the question becomes, am I willing to take the risk of connection, knowing it might lead to more pain, but potentially and likely also to healing? Now the reason the glass wall exists at all, at its core, is just about safety.

After betrayal, your trust has been shattered and the idea of being vulnerable again feels terrifying. The glass wall allows you to observe it without exposing yourself. It's a way of saying, I'm here, but I'm not risking my heart again.

This need for safety is absolutely, entirely valid. I get it. But the problem is that the glass wall also isolates you.

It really isolates you. It creates this false sense of control, like you're holding all the pieces together, but in reality it's just preventing you from fully engaging with your partner and rebuilding the connection that you actually long for. So how do we break it down? Let's look at this from both the betrayed partner's perspective and the unfaithful partner's perspective.

We'll start with the betrayed and we'll keep it simple. So the first step is just to acknowledge the wall. It really is recognising that it exists.

Ask yourself, am I truly connecting or am I just going through the motions? Think about the points I just listed. Conversations feel hollow, remember, or maybe it's when you're noticing that you're not controlling the narrative. You're avoiding vulnerability or you sometimes feel emotionally safe but disconnected.

The next step is to take small steps towards vulnerability. You don't have to tear the entire wall down overnight. Start small.

Share a feeling or a thought that you've maybe been holding back. Maybe it's, I'm scared or I don't know how to trust again. And then consider reframing the fear.

Instead of seeing your vulnerability as a risk, view it as a strength. True intimacy requires courage and every step you take towards vulnerability strengthens that courage. And what about the unfaithful partner? Well firstly, be consistent.

The betrayed partner needs to see that you're reliable. So show up, follow through and let your actions speak louder than words. You can say all of the things, you can read the books, you can have the conversations in therapy, but unless you actually put into practise what it is that you're trying to portray, then it's going to be very difficult for the betrayed partner to start to feel they have enough foundation or ground to put their first foot on.

To be able to step into that that space of vulnerability so that progress can be made. This isn't entirely your responsibility but if you're trying to rebuild a relationship, this does ultimately benefit more when both partners play a role. The next step would be to just create a safe space.

Let them know it's okay to share what they're thinking and what they're feeling, even if it is anger and sadness. And even if you do feel that it's being directed at you in some way, and maybe it is, try not to be defensive and instead just listen with empathy and understanding. And then gently invite openness.

Don't push them to break the wall down, particularly all at once, and instead just ask questions like what can I do to make you feel safer? Or what do you need from me right now? This is not about trying to solve the problem. It's not about coming at them with advice. It's not about suggesting, oh well, if you read this article, this will fix it.

Or if you listen to this podcast, it'll do that. If you'll do this, we're not trying to fix the other person. We're not trying to resolve.

We're just trying to allow the space so that person can evolve and change and feel safe on their own. And again, this is a two-way thing. So just for both of you who are listening, just pay attention to what role you play in the way that you communicate your needs from your partner.

The glass wall might seem like a conflicting metaphor because it offers both protection and limitation. It's there for a reason, but it can't stay forever. Not if you actually want to heal, grow and rebuild connection, be that with your current partner or in a future relationship.

And breaking it down does require effort, mainly from your side, the side that is creating the wall, because often the unfaithful spouse, your partner, might not even be aware that it exists. And it's about patience. It's about being vulnerable and having this willingness to step into the unknown.

Not necessarily all at once, but just taking one step at a time and just noticing what you're experiencing and having the support in place to be able to help you through that. To those of you listening, I want you to reflect on this. Are you living behind a glass wall? And if so, what's one small step that you could take today to start dismantling it? If this episode resonated with you, then please share it with somebody who might need to hear it.

And as always, if you're looking for more support, then reach out. Join our community of listeners who are navigating this journey together. You can do that by visiting Facebook and searching for After The Affair Community with Luke Shillings.

I will pop the link in the show notes. Thank you for joining me ever so much again for the conversation today. And until next time, take care of yourself and I'll talk to you next week.