My Greatest Heartbreak
I won’t sugarcoat this story—it’s heartbreaking. Even as I prepare to write it, I worry what they will think of me. It was many years of my life that I invested in this relationship, so it will take some time for me to not wonder what they think. I am a recovering people pleaser! I’m also learning to forgive—to not let them live rent-free in my head.
So, on that note, let me start at the beginning.
The Beginning
Our families were close before I was even born, but I do remember being eight years old and thinking, “We are going to be good friends.” And I was right. Through middle school and high school, my loyalty to our friendship never wavered. People said a lot of terrible things about you when I was a teenager, but my care and love for you never changed.
When high school graduation came around and everyone was putting the pressure on “what’s next,” I knew with all my heart that we were going to work together. We were inseparable. Through college and university, through heartbreak and arguments, our relationship just got stronger. I couldn’t imagine life without you. You were my rock! I felt comforted, supported, and encouraged as we stepped out in faith and moved to Europe together.
“What I loved was there were so many sides of your personality. Not everyone understood those sides, but I did. I loved you.
I think that’s why it took so long to see the warning signs.”
The Warning Signs
My devotion and loyalty to you was that of royalty, like a god. Every waking hour was dedicated to what you needed. If a decision needed to be made, I came to you first. I realize now how unhealthy our relationship was, but loyalty had been ingrained in me since I was young. Why would I falter now? Even if it was causing me pain.
But, it all started to hurt too much. Mentally, I could talk myself out of walking away, but physically, the stress was taking its toll. I started losing my hair. My eyebrows looked like a trend from the 90s—one straight line. I started getting hives and breakouts all over my face. My self esteem was so bad, I struggled to even let my flatmates see me without make-up. Imagine trying to hide your face when you wake up in the morning, sprinting to be the first in the only bathroom of a four-bedroom apartment. Eventually, my insecurities outgrew my capabilities and I lost trust in my ultimate guide—my gut.
My Red Flag
One cold afternoon, I was making my flatmate some tea. As I started pouring the boiling water over the tea bag, some of the water spilled onto my hand. I didn’t think much of the burn, so I finished pouring, added some milk, and took the tea upstairs to my flatmate. As I handed it to her I jokingly said how I just poured boiling water all over my hand. The shock in her eyes quickly switched to action as she grabbed my arm, pulled me into the bathroom, put my hand under the tap, and ran cold water over the red mark slowly forming. I remember her scolding me for not taking care of myself and also simultaneously being deeply concerned for me.
“I remember this scene as clear as day. And it was the day I knew I had become completely numb—my body had dissociated from my head and my heart. There was no connection. It was my only way to cope. Soon after, I entered therapy and began to acknowledge the pain and purge it out loud.”
The Purging of Pain
It hurt when I told you about how he was abusing his power over me at work, and you pretended you didn’t hear. You even recommended him for a promotion!
It hurt when I went to go preach at church and you told me women weren’t meant to be speakers or even in leadership.
It hurt when you blamed me for the violations I experienced.
It hurt when I became the youngest director for our work, and you doubted my capabilities to lead.
It hurt when the only other female in a similar role made my life miserable. You took her side because she cried. You believed her lies, even when I had proof. And you didn’t even care when I resigned from the position because she made it so unbearable.
It hurt when I made a report of someone being inappropriate and you said, “But he’s good at his job.”
It hurt when I could barely make ends meet and I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue and Fibromyalgia, and you told me my faith wasn’t strong enough. I’d be helped if I just believed more.
It hurt when I watched your gossiping and lies completely ruin a friend's life, and no one held you accountable.
It hurt when I found out my mentor was in on it the whole time.
It hurt when I quit our life’s work together and you sent me bullying emails.
It hurt when you encouraged everyone we knew and who had supported me for so long to walk away from me.
It hurt when after 33 years of doing life together, you rejected and abandoned me, all because I finally stood up for myself.
“My heart broke into so many pieces that it was impossible to resuscitate. I truly felt like my heart had died.”
The Recovery
It has taken years of heart surgery. The darkness has finally faded and my new heart isn’t just beating, but strong. Some of our mutual friends have returned to my life, offering understanding and comfort for what took place between us. Others still ask about you. Particularly, if we will ever get back together again and I honestly don’t know.
But please know this, I don’t resent you anymore for what happened. With lots of therapy, I have recovered from the abuse and gaslighting. I trust my gut again and it has saved my life more than once since gaining it back! I am stronger and more resilient because of everything I have overcome.
I have moved on and I’m sure you have too. All I ask and hope is if you come across this blog, you try to do better for the loved ones in your life. That you love humanity not for what they can do for you or if they fit your mold of expectations, but you see them as being a beautiful creation of emotions, feelings, and physical attributes that span beyond what our eyes have come accustomed to.
“Please… see the humanity behind the person. ”
Editor’s Note: This blog is not referring to one individual but my personal experience with the Christian institution. As a former missionary and pastor, I saw and experienced some intense sides of the church and institution. This blog doesn’t come close to the damage that took place, but my purpose of this post was to write in a way that created understanding and a form of relatability between the reader and life for some (whether Christian or not). I know now that I’m not alone in my experience.
For today and for this blog, this is a snippet of my heart and the healing journey. It’s a process! Thank you to the small handful of people in the church (and outside the church) that stood by me over the years. Not pressuring me to return or “get over it,” but simply being a loving, caring, and supportive community.
