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“Sometimes people wound us because they’re wounded and tell us we’re broken because that’s how they feel, but we don’t have to believe them.” ~Lori Deschene
Age and healing don’t make you invulnerable to moments that can bring you back to the kind of trauma you experienced as a child. It doesn’t mean that you’re broken, but that there is still an opportunity for more healing to take place. Nothing is inherently “wrong” with you.
I experienced a great deal of trauma in my twenties, actively reliving sexual abuse I had gone through in my childhood, and found myself in and out of psych wards to contain my grief. After I turned thirty, I thought this was my life now and that I would never find peace, especially since I didn’t have a great reference point for it.
It wasn’t psychiatry or therapy that saved me, but rather creating a spiritual relationship with myself. Integrating things like meditation, prayer, and living a life of service to others is what helped pull me out of that vortex. It’s been three years now, and I still haven’t stepped back into a mental hospital. Also, I’ve been able to stay afloat financially, have friends, and accomplish many goals.
However, I met someone earlier this year, who I’ll call Brian. He was unlike any man I had ever met because he embodied extreme strength while simultaneously being extremely raw. When I met him, I thought, “This feels familiar.” He seemed a lot like me. And I wanted to get to know this man more deeply. Was he a wounded soldier, like me?
After we spent the first night together being romantic and soft, he did everything he could to sabotage our connection. He withdrew, started being hot and cold, and started bringing up other women to try to get me jealous, which he later admitted was to test me.
I could tell that he didn’t like that I could really “see” him. Energetically, I could feel his pain, and I supported him as he vented about his trauma. And although I didn’t technically want to “save” him, I felt relieved that I met someone who embodied the same painful duality that I did. It made me feel some camaraderie. It made me feel tender toward him.
Despite our chemistry being amazing, he did not regard me in the same way. After his charm wore off, he became exceedingly mean, repeating a pattern of ignoring me, coming back, and eventually, apologizing and making me feel special. Any time there was a rupture in our dynamic, he would blame me for it. In short, he was incredibly critical of me while I continued to make excuses for him.
However, I had so much self-doubt and self-hatred left over from my multiple hospitalizations in my twenties that I thought I was, in fact, the problem—and that I was solely the problem. At this point, I was still indoctrinated with the belief that enduring pain was part of real love.
I began to regress in this dynamic, falling into self-destructive patterns from my childhood, like disordered eating and cutting, and I started feeling depressed and anxious.
When I communicated this to him, he made it clear that I was on my own with all the feelings this dynamic brought up in me. But because of my old wounds, I felt like I had to keep earning his love back to be okay. It was absolutely miserable.
Eventually, I saw that Brian could never face or acknowledge the fact that although we had a connection –and he kept coming back—he couldn’t sustain intimacy because of what it brought up in him. Instead, he framed it as though I’d done something that “pushed” him away or turned him off.
I’m sure that many times, I was a turn-off by being clingier than most women my age would be. But it did not justify his abusive actions. Also, I now see that his inconsistency and withdrawal only increased my need for reassurance.
Now, I am not a judgmental person because of what I’ve been through, but at some point, I had to see his mistreatment for what it was. He would punish me with the silent treatment for weeks on end, name-call, and use leverage, like money, to try to maintain the upper hand.
Eventually, no matter what tenderness I felt in the beginning, I had to let him go. The conditions of our dynamic had become exceedingly clear: I had to be destroyed or minimized for him to thrive.
There was one night when he said something particularly awful to me—something about my “insides being broken”—that shocked me because of the inherent cruelty of the comment. You know, knowing I had been through lots of sexual abuse. When I was visibly upset over this, he framed it as me being too sensitive. And because of where I had been before, I doubted myself.
I shouldn’t have. That is a horrible thing to tell someone. But it took me so long to realize he wasn’t a good person because of the constant self-doubt I had creeping in from my childhood.
After we parted ways, I knew I’d have to work on this to avoid situations like this in the future.
Was I a perfect partner? Hell no. Could I work on refining some of my own relationship habits? Yes. But did I deserve the abuse and silent treatments? Absolutely not.
Here are some tips to remember who you are when your toxic shame from childhood clouds your judgment.
1. Remember, that in many cases, you are attracted to people because of what they invoke in you, sometimes good, sometimes bad. If they bring up a lot of shame versus feelings of love, you may still have work on yourself to do.
2. It may seem that going through hell with someone else at least affords you company, but sometimes the quality of that company can really derail you. Be discerning of who you decide to go through spiritual warfare with.
3. Even if you are a bit unhealed or a bit broken (you’re human, after all), that should never excuse someone giving you the silent treatment or extorting you with money.
4. You are better off holding off on finding a meaningful relationship until you have a clear sense of who you are and what you will and will not tolerate.
5. Endurance of pain does not equal love. It equals pain. Choose wisely!
These are principles I wish had been clearer to me as I fought through this murky journey back to myself. My biggest regret was that I stayed in this relationship as long as I did just because of all the previous self-doubt and self-hatred that was weighing on me.
Life is short, and we don’t have to tolerate cruelty just because we still have healing to do. We don’t have to be fully healed to deserve kindness and emotional safety.
About Monica Viera
Monica Viera is a published poet and creative entrepreneur, best known as the author of Journey Back to the Stars. She blends lyrical storytelling with themes of healing, growth, and self-discovery, inspiring readers through emotionally rich and imaginative work worldwide.
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