When I first realized I had been emotionally abused, I didn’t know what to do next.
I had spent so long trying to define it, wondering if I was being dramatic, questioning if it “counted,” that when the fog finally started to lift, I was left standing there, stunned, holding the truth like a foreign object.
Okay.
So it was abuse.
Now what?
What no one tells you is that healing from emotional abuse isn’t some triumphant before-and-after moment. It’s a long, winding, messy return to yourself. It’s a long, grueling odyssey. And it doesn’t start with confidence. It starts with permission—to feel, to grieve, to question, and to begin again.
It Starts With Safety—In Your Body, Not Just Your Life
Emotional abuse rewires your nervous system. It keeps you in survival mode, even when the danger is no longer present.
Healing begins when your body slowly learns that it’s safe again. You’re not walking on eggshells. You’re not being watched. You’re not being manipulated, silenced, or minimized. You aren’t anticipating being told that you are wrong for just being.
I had many starts and stops to healing. I was trying to avoid it because it was coming on in painful waves. Then I finally had two panic attacks back to back and my therapist urged me to get on antidepressants. I had fought her on this for 2 years. But it was time. And with the Lexapro on board, living alone and actual silence for the first time, I went into a nervous system collapse. I slept for almost 2 months straight. I’m still coming out of the sheer exhaustion of the fight or flight energy for my entire life. Menopause could be part of it, but I really do think this is my body letting go of all the trauma. One indicator is that I had chronic stomach issues my entire life and they suddenly stopped. I used to sense an energy in the house, where he was (or my mom was), anticipating that energy invading my space. That is gone now. And I have no idea who I am without a looming force in the house that is looking to argue with me.
Safety feels like:
• Taking a full, deep breath for the first time in years. The eggshells you were walking on are gone.
• There’s no more unreasonable energy to absorb or fix other than your own.
• You aren’t residing in a living, breathing museum of their neglect and projected responsibilities. All the messes, all the things to do are yours and yours alone. You are no longer parenting a volatile, large child.
• You aren’t pumping yourself up to be an upbeat, happily braindead jester in your own home.
• You aren’t expecting unwanted sexual advances at the worst possible times (like when you are bathing a very dirty dog) and his pouting when he feels rejected.
• You aren’t swimming in resentment and anger because you are cleaning by yourself, again while they are in the other room after starting a fight to avoid helping. When you clean or do any tasks, it’s peaceful. It’s easy.
• Not having to deal with feeling rejected daily. That you don’t matter to them. That they’ll find a new way to hurt you and make you feel small. You are free of feeling this way. You no longer don’t matter.
It’s not dramatic. It’s subtle. But it’s powerful.
You Stop Gaslighting Yourself
This is one of the biggest shifts.
You stop saying:
• “It wasn’t that bad.”
• “I’m just too sensitive.”
• “Maybe I was the problem, I reacted so poorly. You should have given him more grace.”
You start telling yourself the truth.
Yes, it was bad.
Yes, it hurt.
Yes, it was real.
No, you’re not crazy.
Yes, he was controlling and belittling and you were reacting to the frustration of being treated as less than. It happened over 20 years and you were actually more patient than you should have been. He’s had enough grace. It’s time for him to take accountability.
Even if they don’t acknowledge it. Even if no one else ever saw it. You saw it. You felt it. And that’s enough. Trust your experience.
You Learn to Reparent Yourself
For many of us, emotional abuse feels familiar—because we’ve been trained to tolerate it from childhood.
So healing becomes about reparenting. About finally giving yourself what you never got. For me that meant listening to my emotions, even if I thought it was dumb. It was telling myself that I see her and I love her. It was giving myself grace to be “lazy”, to take the nap, to ignore the phone call for a few hours or days.
That also looks like:
• Speaking to yourself gently instead of critically. That critical voice isn’t you. I named mine “Marty” and I tell her to go away. Or, and this is great, I say “Marty, you must really like me if you keep popping in to talk to me about this.” Flirt with your critical voice. It hates that.
• Resting without guilt. This is HUGE. I didn’t know just how much sleep I needed to heal.
• Feeling something and not abandoning yourself in the middle of it. When I would feel triggered, I would sit where I was and put my hand on my chest and tell myself I was there. “You aren’t alone”. Sit and feel it all, comfort yourself, give your inner child the space to talk, to tantrum, to self soothe. Just having the attention and space is a big deal. Allow for it, no matter how silly it may feel.
• Saying no—and not explaining it. I used to write novels about why I couldn’t do something or give reason upon reason so the other person knew I wasn’t lying. Stop doing this. Value your own instincts, your own time, your own spark of feeling uncomfortable. Just let it. Be. Stop being everything to everyone and just focus on YOU.
• Honoring your needs like they matter. Because they do.
You stop waiting for someone else to take care of you. You become the safe place you’ve always longed for.
You Redefine Intimacy
This one hit me hard.
I didn’t realize how much the abuse affected my relationship with touch, sex, affection, and connection. I had been giving my body to someone who didn’t respect me, didn’t see me, and didn’t care to understand what intimacy meant to me. I remember him sitting on the couch next to me and I cringed and pulled away.
So I stopped.
I paused.
I started listening to my body instead of overriding it.
And this is where I put down the boundary with my ex. I said that I will not reengage intimately until I felt safe and the timing of that was mine and mine alone. Until I know you respect me. Until I know your changes are authentic. Until you bathe. He refused to do all of these things and then asked me to leave one night when he was feeling “particularly rejected”. I left that night in 2023 and I never returned. And it still took a solid year for the healing to begin.
Healing taught me that:
• Intimacy isn’t something you owe anyone.
• Touch isn’t connection if your spirit isn’t part of it.
• Desire should be rooted in safety, trust, and joy—not obligation.
I’m still unlearning a lot. But for the first time, I feel like my body belongs to me again.
You Build Boundaries That Actually Stick
One of the clearest signs of healing?
You stop betraying yourself to be loved, chosen, or kept. You start listening to your instincts, to your inner voice and believe me, your body will celebrate that you are listening. You will know.
You stop trying to make everyone comfortable. You take that energy that you gave out to everyone else and keep it for yourself.
You stop abandoning your truth for harmony. You don’t care if they don’t agree with you.
You stop explaining your boundaries like they’re up for negotiation.
You just say, “No.”
“That doesn’t work for me.”
“I’m not available for that.”
And then… you walk away. With peace.
You Start to Create Again—from Wholeness
This is the part I didn’t expect. The joy. The magic. The creation.
It’s like once I cleared out the lies, the manipulation, the fear—I found space. I found my voice.
Space to paint.
To write.
To dream again.
To make a life that feels like me.
Not because everything is fixed or perfect. But because I’m no longer performing someone else’s version of who I’m supposed to be.
I’m living for me.
So… What’s the Reward?
The reward of healing from emotional abuse isn’t just confidence or empowerment—though those do come.
The real reward is this:
• You finally believe yourself.
• You stop abandoning your needs.
• You trust your own voice again.
• You feel safe in your own body.
• You stop living in survival mode—and start living with intention. This is a biggie. Once the anxiety is gone, once you are living in real time without fear or an audience that terrifies you… you are the most authentic, kick ass version of yourself. And being that free to express yourself and be unapologetically you is, frankly, the meaning of life (I think).
You come home to yourself. You finally know yourself.
And that is everything.
