“You will never be satisfied with what you have until you reconcile with who you are.” ~Dris Mortman
For most of my life, I believed that my worth was tied to how well I was able to do.
If I succeeded, made people happy, worked harder than anyone else, and spent quietly about my pain, maybe I’d be enough.
That belief never came from anywhere. I grew up in a house where fear was constant. I made a statement and got results. I felt that it was safe to be invisible. I learned to smile through everything and smile quickly, so that even if it’s small, it’s never a burden.
I carried it to adults into my marriage, motherhood and corporate world.
I have become the best accomplisher I’ve ever asked for help. A professional woman who had all the answers. The mother I always held with.
I was a volunteer for every project and was late to make everything perfect. At home, she continued to perform with themed birthday parties, beautiful counters and a full-filled schedule. I thought if I could put everything together on the outside, no one would see the cracks inside.
But inside, I was clear.
The moment everything changed
One night my husband exploded with anger. That wasn’t uncommon. But this time something different happened.
He thrusts towards me, screaming and anger. Our young son was quietly raw on the floor behind me, but almost intervened in the midst of the confusion. My daughter, the child herself, quietly began to pick up the dining room chair he had thrown.
No one cried. No one spoke. We all learned to be silent.
But in the silence something inside me woke up.
I saw myself in my children. And I knew: if I didn’t break this cycle, they would grow up with the same invisible wounds I had.
That night I made an appointment to myself: this ends with me.
Healing never happened at once
It was hard to leave. Healing was difficult. But it was also the most powerful thing I’ve ever done.
I realized that I had been on my own path throughout my life. Even in the pain I refined everything. If people knew the truth, they were afraid to leave about my past, my marriage, how little I had about myself.
But this was what actually happened. When I finally allowed myself to be seen, I began to heal.
What I learned on the other side of survival
Healing is not a straight line. It’s a process. Sometimes it’s slow, sometimes messy, and incredibly beautiful.
Here are some things I’m approaching now:
1. You cannot heal anything that rejects a name.
For me, that moment came during treatment. When he finally said loudly, “I was in an emotionally abusive marriage.” It felt terrifying and free. It had power on me until I gave it a name. It took me to give a name and take the first step to take away that power.
For years, I told myself it wasn’t that bad. But disregarding our pain does not erase it. It fills it. And buried pain finds a way to emerge in our choices, our relationships, and our sense of self-worth.
2. You are allowed to want more than a survival.
I thought I should be grateful for having work, home and healthy children. But deep down, I wanted joy. I wanted peace. I wanted to feel important.
For a long time I believed that those things wanted me to be selfish. I thought it was my role and spent years making sure others were OK. I was the people, the fixers, the one who didn’t cause any trouble. My self-worth was so low that even imagining a life I felt fulfilled seemed too much to ask. Who did I want happiness?
But it was not selfish to want peace and joy. It was soothing.
3. Small, daily decisions are more important than big breakthroughs.
Instead of being paralyzed on TV, choose a journal. After work, I take a walk to process my thoughts. Pause before responding with frustration. These choices were not dramatic, but they produced steady change.
Leave my marriage was one bold decision. But the real transformation consistently reminded me to write down what I was grateful for and say no without guilt, and to honor the value of integrity and integrity. They were the moments that helped me get my life back.
4. You are not broken – you are becoming.
For a long time I thought myself being damaged and that healing meant changing to another person. But I started to see things differently. Healing is not about becoming a new person. It’s about removing things that never belonged to you in the first place: embarrassment, fear, silence, etc., and revealing who you’ve been with forever.
I noticed this while sorting old journals when I found entries from my teenage years. That’s when it hit me: she’s still there. Healing helped me reunite that part of myself rather than erase her.
If you’re in that quiet place now
Maybe you’re also silent. Maybe you’re working, playing, doing everything.
Listen to this: You are not alone.
You don’t need to understand it all. You don’t need a perfect plan. You need to be willing to hear the little wise voices inside. This is what you say is not the end of your story.
Because that’s not the case.
And you have to respect that. Even if it’s just one small act. Honest conversation. One brave decision. That’s the beginning of healing. It’s not about knowing everything, it’s about choosing to move forward anyway.
I know this. Because I was there. I move with a heavy heart, experience movements, wondering if life will feel like me again.
But I chose to pause. feel. To start again. I hope you do that too.
