Defence mechanisms often start as our psyche’s way of shielding us from unbearable pain or overwhelming situations. They allow us to push forward, to navigate life when circumstances are nearly too much to bear. For some, these defences are temporary supports, like a cast for a broken bone, something to lean on as we regain strength. For others, though, these defences become walls – fortifications built so strong that, over time, they begin to isolate rather than protect.

 

These defences, in their most rigid form, can feel like layers of armour around one’s inner world. Veterans of war, for example, often carry unimaginable pain that’s locked away, out of conscious reach. Their minds, as a means of survival, have compartmentalised traumatic memories, putting them in a box and sealing it with the strongest lock. It’s as though the mind has decided, “Not now. This is too much to feel right now.” And so the pain waits, often with a lifetime of quiet consequences.

 

For those of us without a literal battlefield, life’s emotional wounds – betrayals, rejections, unprocessed grief – may similarly become tucked away. We construct mental fortresses to keep discomfort at bay. But with time, these fortresses can calcify, creating a kind of emotional numbness. Like an untreated abscess, the hidden pain starts to seep into other parts of our lives, affecting relationships, self-worth, and the ability to connect deeply. When similar situations arise, even those only faintly echoing the original wound, the walls automatically go up, shutting down access to our emotions.

 

Attachment Styles and Defence Patterns

These walls often trace back to our early attachment experiences, the very first relationships we form. Research tells us that attachment styles – our ways of relating to others that begin in childhood – play a significant role in shaping these defences. For those with avoidant attachment patterns, emotional closeness may feel suffocating, leading to the development of defences like denial or repression. People with anxious attachments, fearing abandonment, may project or displace their emotions to cope. Over time, these defences become entrenched, limiting their ability to navigate adult relationships with openness and flexibility. 

 

When Defences Block Connection

The impact of these entrenched defences can be profound. Like castles with walls too high for anyone to scale, we might find ourselves emotionally isolated, yearning for connection yet unable to lower our defences. These walls can lead to misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and conflicts, especially when loved ones feel they are kept out, never quite able to reach us. The cost isn’t only relational – rigid defences also block our own personal growth, keeping us from fully experiencing or understanding our emotions.

 

In this way, these defences become both a symptom and a cause of emotional distance. The emotions themselves remain “walled off,” and attempts to connect with others feel fraught, often leaving us frustrated, unable to share the depth we long to express. It’s as though these emotional walls, initially intended as protectors, have instead taken us hostage.

 

When Defences Become Harmful: The Case of Stonewalling

While defences often serve as protective mechanisms, they can sometimes morph into behaviours that are harmful to relationships. Stonewalling, for instance, involves withdrawing from interaction and refusing to communicate, effectively erecting an impenetrable barrier between oneself and others. This behaviour can escalate conflicts and lead to feelings of isolation and frustration in the other party. 

 

In certain contexts, stonewalling can be a form of emotional abuse, used intentionally to manipulate or control a partner. When one partner consistently shuts down communication, it can create a power imbalance, leaving the other feeling helpless and devalued. Recognising when defences have crossed into such territory is crucial, as these patterns are unacceptable and can cause significant harm. 

 

Recognising and Softening Defences

How, then, do we begin to soften these defences? Therapy offers one pathway. Within the safe container of therapy, defences can slowly loosen as we explore what lies behind them. Sometimes, a significant life event or moment of crisis can “break open” our rigid walls, creating an opportunity for the psyche to access emotions that had been sealed off. Though initially unsettling, these moments allow us to confront the original pain rather than keep it boxed away, making way for healing. 

 

In therapies like Internal Family Systems, individuals begin to see these defences as “parts” – distinct elements of themselves that serve protective roles. By gently engaging with these parts, we can thank them for their service and communicate that they no longer need to remain so vigilant. It’s as though we’re telling these defences, “You can stand down. We’re safe now.” In this way, therapy offers a chance not to abolish our defences, but to honour them and reframe them as adaptable parts of ourselves rather than immovable barriers.

 

The Role of Safe Connections

Having others in our lives who accept us as we are – defences and all – can be profoundly healing. A compassionate friend, a patient partner, or a trusted mentor provides a mirror for our humanity and reminds us that our defences, however entrenched, aren’t the only way to exist. Safe relationships help us practice lowering our walls bit by bit, creating room for authentic connection without feeling exposed or endangered.

 

Gradually, as we cultivate more emotional literacy – learning to name and express feelings that were once hidden – these defences lose their hold. Emotional literacy enables us to approach discomfort with curiosity instead of fear. Studies show that men, in particular, benefit from support groups that encourage emotional sharing, as these settings provide a safe environment to practice vulnerability and break down internalised norms around emotional stoicism. 

 

The Gift of Transforming Defences

Transforming rigid defences isn’t about eliminating them but learning to make them more flexible. Like a door that can open and close, our defences become tools we can consciously use rather than structures that hold us captive. As we soften these barriers, we find a renewed capacity for connection – not only with others but with parts of ourselves that had long been kept in the dark.

 

In the words of Irvin Yalom, “The act of revealing oneself fully to another and still being accepted may be the major vehicle of therapeutic help.” When we allow ourselves to drop the walls, even momentarily, we often discover a profound sense of relief. We realise that our deepest defences, once vital for survival, can now yield to connection, understanding, and growth. And in this yielding, we experience the fullness of being truly human.