Healing the Heartaches of Abuse

It’s been a long time trying to figure out what has happened in my marriage and, by extension, all other aspects of my life.

Even several years ago, I’d have told you emphatically that I had nearly completely compartmentalized everything in the marriage to never let it impact other aspects of my life.

I now realize how ridiculous that statement was.

With several years of counseling and trying to heal behind me, I see that the damage pervades every aspect of everything in my life.

There’s more healing ahead. I feel it is going faster, but wow, there’s so much I need to do in what feels like not much time.

I still have doubts. Moments where I feel like I’m completely to blame. Instances where I feel like I’m the one that’s done and doing all the harm by moving forward with a divorce. The confusion of trying for years to prosper inside a bizarro world where I can never be sure when good is good, good is bad, or bad is actually good. All that is also subject to change without notice.

I sigh loudly even thinking about it.

After Mass this morning, I was going to journal about the self-doubts that I still contend with along with facts to challenge each one. Why? To be able to read and re-read the list to remind myself what’s reality.

When I sat down at the computer, though, I found the reflection below that I wrote in March 2023. It was about all the ways that my heart ached.

Almost one year later, some still hurt; hurt a ton. Others, though, hurt much less, or I’ve realized that I can move on beyond the heartache.

That’s progress. That’s healing.

That’s where I’m at today.

I’m confident I’ll keep getting better.

My heart aches when I . . .

See a family with kids and grandkids.

Long for connectedness and closeness.

Witness a couple at Mass receiving an anniversary blessing.

Struggle with temptation.

Think about the Atlantic Ocean.

Wonder about the transformation of a pilgrimage to the Holy Land or Rome.

Am afraid of being loving and giving.

Feel like I must hide myself.

Can’t seem to answer a question or express my thoughts in a way that will make sense to her.

Can’t understand what happened along the way and knowing that I’ll likely never know or understand.

Go through any stretch of time feeling like I’m constantly letting God down.

Can’t pray together with her.

Can’t share what’s on my heart and what I long for.

Don’t want to be together like I used to want to be all the time.

Can’t see myself.

Feel relieved to be alone.

Experience a couple celebrating and celebrating each other.

Think I’m just being too sensitive.

Can’t imagine things ever working out for the better.

Have to always be planning for multiple ways that things might go wrong.

Don’t have the emotional energy left to protect others.

Know that I’m giving up.

Think back on amazing times.

Can’t be loving.

Realize how affected my thinking and emotions are.

Am not sure of myself enough to protect myself.

Can’t even imagine ideas for doing something by myself.

Am filled with regret.

Think about losing my family or putting them in positions of having to make choices.

See a deacon and his wife.

Fear losing my closeness to you, Lord.

Feel like I’m letting you down, God.

Contemplate the future.

If you are in a similar situation, I’m publishing content along my journey to healing as I make progress. Subscribe to get an email as I share new articles.