Healing in Pieces: The Burden I Put Down

I’ve learned in therapy that my beginning with him was born in chaos. I felt like the savior, and he was the one in need of rescuing. That dynamic set up an imbalance where I gave, carried, and managed more than my share.

I’ve named the abuse I endured — physical, psychological, sexual, financial, and emotional. Naming it doesn’t erase the pain, but it gives me power I didn’t have before. I see now how I’ve carried generational patterns of dysfunctional love, learning from my parents and step-parents that love often meant survival, betrayal, silence, or sacrifice.

Therapy has taught me to communicate, set boundaries, and practice self-awareness — things I was never shown. I feel torn between the man he is now and the harm he caused before. My heart whispers escape: “As soon as I’m financially free, I’m going and never coming back.” I know leaving doesn’t mean I stop caring; it means I’m finally caring for myself.

Healing doesn’t erase what was done to me. Someone can change and still not be safe for me emotionally. Loving parts of him doesn’t mean I owe him my life, my love, or my forgiveness. I am not evil. I was never the villain. I was simply a woman searching for love, safety, and partnership in a world where chaos was normalized.