clever INK.

The Truth About Loving a Strong Woman with a Traumatized Past

It's not a task — it's a privilege.

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There's a strange kind of silence that follows survival. It's not peace, exactly — at least not at first. It's the kind of quiet that comes after chaos, when the hurricane has passed, but your nervous system hasn't caught up yet.

That was me, in my sixties and totally fed up, unpacking boxes as if it were an Olympic sport, wondering why the spin cycle in my head wouldn't stop, even though he was no longer part of my life.

Sadly, you don't just walk away from narcissistic abuse and high-five the universe. I wish. There is no clean break. It's more like slapping sunburned skin — you're free, yeah, but you flinch and pull away every time someone gets too close.

Healing, I've learned, isn't about forgetting the past. It's about making peace with the version of you who survived. The woman who smiled when she wanted to scream. Who handed out grace like candy when she was starving for it herself, all while trying to be "enough" for someone who never cared anyway.

Once you find that inner peace, however, the real work begins. Now it's time to rebuild. To remember who you are at soul level, to awaken the parts of you that were put on ice to…