Sacred Love After Survival
For the Woman Who Has Given Up on Love
Some of us did not enter love softly.
Some of us survived it.
"And survival changes how you love."Not long ago, Valentine’s Day came and went.
Spring is beginning to stir in the air.
And I’ve been thinking about love.
Not the kind sold in stores.
Not the kind wrapped in ribbons or measured in bouquets.
But the kind that settles your nervous system.
The kind that allows your shoulders to drop.
The kind that lets you finally soften.
This is for the woman who has decided she is done.
The woman who has been through relationships that, at times, made her believe something inside her was broken.
The woman who learned to walk on eggshells.
The woman who stopped trusting.
The woman who quietly believes all men are the same.
I know her.
I was her.
I lived through not one, but two deeply painful relationships — one extremely abusive.
There were years I did not think there was anything left to look forward to.
Years where my nervous system lived in survival mode.
Years where love felt dangerous.
And yet… even at my lowest point… there was still a tiny spark inside me.
A knowing.
That sacred love existed.
That one day, I would experience it.
Ten years ago, I met him.
We moved in together three weeks and three days after our first date.
We were in our 40s. We had lived enough life to trust what our hearts were telling us.
The very first time we looked into each other’s eyes, we both felt it — deeply in our souls — that we were meant to walk this life together.
It wasn’t fantasy.
It was recognition.
We were married three years later.
And every single day since — even when I have been in bed and unable to function because of MCAS — has been joyful because of us. Because of him. Because of what we have built.
Not because life has been easy.
But because love has been safe.
Love in Action, Not Performance
For eight years I have navigated MCAS flares.
There have been times — sometimes for stretches — when I was in bed and unable to function. Times when my body felt fragile. Times when my nervous system lived in hypervigilance.
He never once made me feel like a burden.
He worked hard to provide for us.
He maintained our home.
He picked up the slack when I could not.
He has never questioned what I spend or why.
For the first time in my life, I softened into allowing a man to support me financially.
That was not easy for me.
But he made it safe.
I watch my granddaughters two full days a week — long, beautiful, exhausting days. I wake at 5:30am, drive an hour, spend nine hours with a toddler and a baby, and drive an hour home.
And the truth is, I am able to do that because of him.
If I had to work full time, I would not be available during the week. Weekends — which I often have them — would feel heavy instead of joyful. Life gets busy when you are working constantly. Energy gets divided.
Because he provides the way he does, I get to be present with them. I get to be their Oma in a way I never could have if I were trying to survive financially.
That is not a small thing.
The other morning, after a rough night of little sleep, I woke at 5:30am to drive to my son’s house. I could feel the exhaustion in my body.
He knew I hadn’t slept well — not because I complained, but because he felt it.
I received a text:
“I’m making dinner tonight so you can relax when you get home.”
After spending the entire day with the girls and making the long drive back, I walked into the house. It smelled of food. He was standing at the stove with a smile and a kiss to greet me.
Dinner was already warm.
No performance.
No announcement.
No need for praise.
Just care.
It was in that quiet exhale — later that evening — that I felt moved to sit down and write this.
Love should feel like exhale.
We don’t exchange gifts on Valentine’s Day.
We don’t exchange Christmas gifts.
Ten years ago, our first Christmas together, he asked how I felt about adult gift exchanges. I told him they always felt stressful and unnecessary.
He was thrilled.
I think I fell even more in love in that moment — realizing we were on the same wavelength.
We buy what we need throughout the year.
If we see something meaningful for the other, we give it then.
Not because a calendar told us to.
But because love moved us to.
I have been showered with gifts before. It meant nothing.
What matters is reliability.
What matters is steadiness.
What matters is emotional safety.
Healing Beside Each Other
When we first came together, we were both nightly drinkers. That had been our pattern long before we met.
For the first few months of our relationship, we drank heavily.
He quit first.
He never judged me for still having a drink now and then. Never pressured. Never shamed.
Out of respect, I kept the bottle in my closet — not because I had to hide it, but because I didn’t want it in his space.
As I began doing deep healing work, something shifted.
I no longer needed to numb.
I began my shamanic journey.
Nightly meditation.
Journey work.
Energy healing.
I didn’t want my mind impaired anymore. I wanted clarity. I wanted presence.
The desire dissolved naturally.
Not because he demanded it.
But because I was healing.
We didn’t need a crisis to change. We simply reached a point where clarity mattered more than numbing.
“Growth does not always come from collapse. Sometimes it comes from choice.”He is the one who first introduced me to many of the spiritual healing modalities I now walk so deeply.
In the early years, we traveled together to take several ThetaHealing courses — not to become practitioners, but to bring healing to ourselves.
Our spiritual paths are not identical.
But we share them. We talk about them. We encourage each other.
He has supported my training. He has supported this work. He has believed in me.
That kind of partnership is sacred.
The photo on the left was the very first picture ever taken of us.
You can see the love — it was already there.
But if you look closely, there is a heaviness in our eyes. We were both still drinking nightly then. Still carrying weight we hadn’t yet released.
The photo on the right is from our wedding day.
Same love.
Clearer light.
We didn’t just fall in love.
We healed beside each other.
Wholeness, Not Need
We often joke that we don’t talk much.
Because we don’t need to.
We can spend entire days home together — each doing our own things.
He with his interests.
Me with mine.
There is never irritation about space.
Never resentment about independence.
I know what it feels like to have someone annoyed because I wanted to work on my art instead of watching a show.
But a partner is not here to entertain you.
A partner is not here to complete you.
Two wounded people clinging to each other is not love.
Two regulated adults choosing each other — that is different.
We are whole.
And we choose each other.
We love that so much of our time is simply us in our home — our sanctuary.
Not because we need each other to survive.
But because we genuinely enjoy being together.
The Healing Was Mine
There were early years when I didn’t trust.
I checked phones.
Recovered deleted messages.
Logged into accounts.
He did not yell.
He did not shame.
He did not retaliate.
He understood I was healing.
But he did not fix me.
I had to do my own work.
Healing is not something someone gives you. It is something you choose.
I had to untangle trauma.
I had to regulate my nervous system.
I had to learn to trust again.
I had to soften.
He simply stood steady while I did.
Not dominance.
Not control.
Steadiness.
And that steadiness allowed my feminine to finally rest.
To the Woman Who Has Closed Her Heart
I understand why.
Closing your heart may have once been necessary.
But hearts are not meant to stay armored forever.
Sacred love does not rescue you.
It meets you.
“Intensity is not the same as intimacy.”But you must be willing to heal.
To release numbing.
To question the stories built from pain.
To learn to trust again after trauma.
There are good men in this world.
There are safe partnerships.
There are relationships that feel like exhale instead of tension.
But if your heart stays closed, how will the one who is searching for you ever find you?
Your heart is not broken.
It is bent.
And bent things, reshaped with patience and devotion, can become even stronger.
What would change in your life if love no longer felt like something you had to survive?
Spring is stirring.
Maybe this season is not just about romance.
Maybe it is about you.
Softening.
Healing.
Opening.
Sacred love is real.
And you are worth the kind of love that does not require survival.
May your heart soften again,
and may sacred love meet you there.
