Ten years is a long time to be alone especially after surviving something that almost destroyed you. When I left my abusive marriage, I didn’t walk away whole. I walked away shattered. And while I was technically single for only six months before I thought I was ready to date again… I quickly realized I wasn’t healed enough to bring anyone else into my life.
I bled pain all over anyone I tried to get close to.
I didn’t know what I truly wanted, what I was willing to accept, or what I could compromise on. Every minor misstep felt like a deal-breaker, and fear ruled everything. For almost ten years, I dated here and there, but nothing serious. That time as long and lonely as it often felt gave me the space to grow. I focused on my kids. I focused on healing. I focused on figuring out who I was without the trauma and who I wanted to become.
Looking back, it was the most important gift I could have given myself.
What I Used to Believe About Love
I didn’t think real love existed. Not for me, anyway.
I thought maybe I had missed my chance. That maybe what I was asking for in a partner basic things like honesty, safety, kindness, and commitment was too much. People even told me that. “You’re asking for too much.”
But it didn’t feel like “too much.” It felt like the bare minimum.
I didn’t realize it back then, but I don’t think I had ever actually been loved before — not in the way love is meant to be. I’d been used. I’d been manipulated. Controlled. So I started to wonder if true love was even real. And if it was, would I ever know what it felt like?
The Work No One Sees
Healing isn’t glamorous. And it’s definitely not linear.
I spent years in therapy, trying to unpack why I felt unworthy of love. Why I didn’t feel “good enough.” What I even wanted in a relationship. Did I want to be married again? Or was raising good humans enough?
Therapy helped me answer those questions. It gave me the tools to stop bleeding on people who didn’t hurt me. It helped me set standards I could finally stand by. And for anyone reading this, let me say clearly: therapy is a game-changer. Not your friends, not your family therapy. Because you need someone unbiased. And even when you start to feel “ready,” don’t stop going. Your mental health needs just as much care as your heart does.
I also had to face the silence. I had to stop drowning out my thoughts with music, TV, and distractions. I had to sit with the discomfort. Cry in the quiet. Talk to God. I had to admit I couldn’t control everything and I didn’t need to.
(Also, shoutout to the Mel Robbins Podcast. That woman pulled me through some rough days.)
The Loneliness in the In-Between
The hardest moments were the quiet ones.
At night, after the kids were asleep and the house went still. That’s when the loneliness crept in.
There was no one to share my fears with. No one to celebrate small wins. No partner to lean on when things got heavy. And believe me they got heavy. I navigated major medical issues with my kids. I drove hours to Stanford appointments alone. I cried in the shower so they wouldn’t hear me. I cried in bed by myself.
And even during my marriage… I was alone.
So being single didn’t create loneliness it just stripped away the illusion.
But I refused to go back to anything less than what I knew I deserved. I wasn’t going to settle. I wasn’t going to accept “almost love” ever again.
Real Love Feels… Different
Then came Ron.
And from the very beginning, it felt different.
He didn’t try to impress me with grand gestures. He didn’t fake perfection. He quoted biblical scripture about how a man should love a woman. He made me laugh. He let me talk. He let me cry. He let me be.
We talked for hours every night. I don’t think I went to bed before midnight once in those first few weeks. I shared my fears, even the physical ones. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t push. He listened. And then he looked me in the eyes and said, “I’ll be patient. I’ll walk this with you.”
He told me things I had never heard before:
“You are worth it.”
“You are enough.”
“You are worth loving.”
And for the first time… I believed it.
Because his actions matched his words.
The Fear Didn’t Vanish But It Changed
Every day, I braced for the moment it would all fall apart. I waited for the other shoe to drop. I feared love bombing. I feared deception. I feared the pattern I knew too well.
But instead of hiding that fear, I spoke it.
And Ron listened.
Not with defensiveness, but with compassion.
He didn’t gaslight me. He didn’t avoid it. He engaged in it.
He said, “Let’s talk through it together.”
We’re not in our twenties. We’re not dating just to date. We both came into this with intention. And when you’re dating with intention, communication isn’t a luxury, it’s a requirement. He’s been just as vulnerable as I have. He’s cried. He’s shared his fears. He’s met me in the middle and said, “Let’s do this for real.”
Honestly? It’s weird being in a healthy relationship.
But it’s also really, really beautiful.
Love, Now
Love now feels… calm. It feels safe.
It’s not perfect. It still takes work. We still have triggers, hard conversations, emotional baggage that creeps in when we least expect it. But overall? I’m happy more often than I’m not. That matters more than anything.
Love feels like being seen and still being chosen.
It feels like waking up excited for the future.
It feels like trust.
To Anyone Wondering If It’ll Ever Happen for You
Please hear me: It can.
Be patient. Not just with the timing but with yourself. Learn to love who you are becoming. Do the hard work so you don’t bleed on people who didn’t hurt you.
You do not need to be fully healed to be loved again.
But you do need to be self-aware.
You need to know your triggers.
You need to be vulnerable enough to share your pain and brave enough to believe someone will stay.
Let love find you. Don’t chase it. Don’t fake it.
Don’t settle.
And don’t ever believe you’re too broken, too late, or too much.
You are not.
You never were.
Who I Am Now
The 34-year-old me would never recognize the 44-year-old woman I am today.
She couldn’t have imagined this strength. This joy. This calm. She couldn’t picture herself owning a home, leading a company, navigating her children’s surgeries, buying a new car—and doing it all without losing herself. And she definitely couldn’t imagine a healthy, God-centered relationship with a man who loves her with patience, kindness, and true partnership.
But here I am.
And here he is.
A man who accepts my children. Accepts my past. A man who not only prays for me, but prays with me. He not only prays for his family, but he prays for mine, and ours combined – our future. And wants to build a future with me. A man who sees me to my core and says, “Let’s do life together.” A contributing, equal partner. A leader. A protector. A love that is not perfect but is pure.
A love that God designed just for me.
One response to “Finding Safe Love After Abuse: My Story”
Beautifully worded. Love you honey.