Road to Recovery

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Client A: I was 50 years old and found myself standing at crossroads. My work had consumed me for years, and now, I was numb. Burnout had seeped into every corner of my life, and anxiety crept in during the quiet moments. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt truly engaged in anything, not at work or outside of it. Each day was a cycle of exhaustion and disengagement.

When I found myself waking up in tears, I knew I needed change. I sought therapy, working with the therapist to understand why I felt so lost. I learned that my anxiety was the result of years of pushing myself without rest or self-compassion. I was living a life that was based on the expectations of others rather than that of my own design. I had sought to please everyone else at my expense.

Recovery wasn’t just about cutting back hours; it was about nourishing myself in the domains that I had neglected. Slowly, I began rebuilding. I adopted a self-care routine—morning walks, reading my favourite books, and evenings spent quietly without any agendas and without any guilt. I picked up my paintbrushes again, and it felt like a spark had been lit inside me. I started to taste life again. 

With each small step, I found balance, a new sense of purpose, and for the first time in years, I feel that I could be whole again.

Client B: For a long time, I numbed the pain with alcohol. It was the only way I knew to escape the depression and trauma that haunted me. Every day felt like I was drowning in a fog, struggling to breathe, unable to feel anything other than shame. I couldn’t forgive myself for the terrible mistakes I had made in hurting my loved ones. I convinced myself I wasn’t worthy of help—like I had no right to ask for it.

I pushed away anyone who tried to reach out. The alcohol became my shield, the one thing that kept me from facing the reality of the pain inside. But eventually, that shield wasn’t enough. I was exhausted, emotionally, mentally and physically. I realized the numbing wasn’t fixing anything—it was left with a hollow husk inside. I yearned to connect with my partner but getting close terrified me.

With the therapist's guidance, I was able to open up about my past for the first time. It felt surreal, but I knew I was in a trusted space. I found that I had the strength to face my story, and I could learn other ways to keep myself safe through the process.

Forgiving myself is still a work in progress. For a long time, I thought holding onto the pain would keep me from ever hurting anyone again. But I’m starting to see that holding onto the hurt was also slowly poisoning me. I’m learning to stop the cycle, one step at a time. It’s not easy, but I’m facing the pain head-on to heal.

 Client C: I experienced deep betrayal trauma in my relationship, which left me feeling broken and unsafe with my partner. For years, I trusted them completely, believing in the bond we shared. But in an instant, that trust was shattered. The discovery of their dishonesty, emotional neglect, and the lies they told over time crushed me in ways I never imagined. I felt completely lost and unsure of who I was or what I had been part of. I no longer recognized the person I had married. I questioned every moment we had shared—wondering if any of it had been real.

The emotional pain was overwhelming. I was constantly on edge, anxious, and filled with self-doubt. It felt as if I couldn’t trust anyone—most of all, myself. The weight of the betrayal made it nearly impossible to believe in love, trust, or safety with anyone. I had been left in a place of deep anxiety.

In therapy, I began to understand the root causes of my partner’s behaviors, which helped me make sense of some of what had happened. However, that knowledge offered little comfort in the face of the emotional wounds I was carrying. I had to face the truth of their actions and come to terms with the pain it caused. Slowly, I learned that I had to reclaim my own sense of worth, my right to be treated with care and respect, and my need for safety.

I started setting healthy boundaries, giving myself permission to grieve and process my emotions. Over time, I regained a sense of safety—not by depending on my partner, but by realizing that I had the power to create it for myself.

Though the emotional scars will always remain, I am no longer defined by the betrayal. I still get triggered when I hear of cheating or lies, but I understand that these feelings are part of my recovery. My husband and I are a work in progress, but we now have a map for recovery.