Finding My Rhythm: Healing, Leading, Becoming

As I embarked on the painful process of leaving an emotionally abusive marriage, I also began the long journey toward healing. The path has not been easy, and in many ways, I’m still walking it. But I know now that recovery is possible—and I haven’t walked it alone.

For years, I lived in survival mode. My marriage was isolating. I had no close friends, no space to be known. I was too busy, too exhausted, and too emotionally shut down to form real connections. Abuse does that—it narrows your world until you forget who you are. What became “normal” for me was a life of self-doubt, criticism, and fear.

It started to change when I began therapy. My early therapists helped me begin to sort through the confusion. In those initial months, I felt like my world had been flipped upside down. I didn’t know which way was up. But I’m especially grateful for three dear friends who showed up—and never left.

These women didn’t just walk beside me. They often carried me.

They helped me remember who I was before I was told I was “too much,” “not enough,” “a bad mother,” or “a failure as a woman.” They became my mirror when I could no longer see myself. They listened without judgment. They witnessed my tears and the repeated retelling of trauma—my own personal Groundhog Day of grief—and never turned away.

When my ex tried to take my children, when he painted a version of me I didn’t even recognize—and when the courts and his family believed that version—my friends were the ones who grounded me in truth. They reminded me, over and over, that I was good. That I was worthy. That I was not alone.

They gave me space for sorrow and gently nudged me toward light. When I could barely move, they moved with me. When I wanted to disappear, they held my hand and stayed.

Slowly—so slowly—I started to see myself through their eyes. Not through the distorted lens of abuse, but through the clarity of love. I began to believe I was a good person. A good mother. A kind friend. Someone worthy not just of survival, but of laughter. Of joy.

These women gave me more than support. They gave me back to myself.

So, to the friends who stood by me:
Thank you. For listening, again and again.
For wiping my tears.
For holding me up.
For walking with me.
For believing in me when I couldn’t.
For reminding me that healing isn’t something I had to do alone.

I will always treasure the gift of friendship on this healing journey.

Reflection:
Healing is not meant to happen in isolation. We may begin the journey alone, but we are not meant to stay there. Friendship—true, steady, soul-nourishing friendship—is often the difference between barely surviving and truly healing. It is through the kindness and presence of others that we are reminded of who we are, of what we deserve, and of what’s possible.

I was profoundly blessed to be surrounded by women who didn’t just witness my pain—they stayed through it, walked with me through the darkest valleys, and celebrated with me when the light began to return. Their love didn’t just help me heal—it helped me grow.

To anyone walking through their own recovery: find your people. Hold them close. And if you already have them—treasure them. They are more than friends. They are lifelines.