Every morning, I wake up early, step outside, and listen to the birds greeting the day. Their song is a quiet declaration of freedom — something I never truly knew until recently. There’s a comfort now in knowing that no one else will be ruining my day. That sense of liberation, of being free to just be, is something I hold dear.
For years, I was in a relationship that left deep emotional scars. When I walk through my home today, I sometimes find myself looking for a shared object — something we chose together during our 32-year marriage. But instead, I see secondhand furniture, things given to me by my mother or daughter, and very little that tells a story of joyful partnership. Most of my treasured possessions were bought either by my previous husband or myself, long before abuse dimmed the light in my life.
As a trauma-informed therapist, and also as a survivor, I now understand the psychological weight of those missing memories. When I reach deep into the memory bank, I find that even birthdays, Christmases, and holidays — the moments we’re supposed to treasure — are tainted. Not by forgetting, but by remembering too clearly: the cruelty, the manipulation, the emotional and sometimes physical abuse that was hidden behind closed doors. These truths are not just mine; they’ve been shared in court, spoken aloud to my psychologist, and quietly confirmed by those who truly knew me all along.
Some friends responded with stunned silence when they read or heard what I’d been through. Others, those who had known me longest, simply nodded. They’d seen the signs. They’d felt the undercurrents. They knew.
And now? Now, I am rebuilding. I am crafting a life of new memories — gentle, happy, untainted moments with family and real friends. These are memories I will take with me into old age: laughter around the dinner table, unhurried conversations, birthdays filled with genuine joy, holidays free of tension and fear.
This is what psychological healing looks like: not pretending the past didn’t happen, but refusing to let it steal any more of your future.
From a psychological perspective, reclaiming joy after abuse isn’t about forgetting — it’s about integrating. We acknowledge what happened. We tell our truth, often in safe, therapeutic spaces. We grieve what was lost, including the idea of the relationship we wished we had. And then, we begin the slow but powerful work of creating a life that feels real, calm, and ours.
If you’re on this journey too — whether still in the storm or finally stepping into peace — know this: you are not alone. You are not broken. You are becoming. And you deserve memories that make you smile.
Here’s to the quiet mornings, the laughter-filled afternoons, and the joy of knowing your story is far from over — and now, it’s finally yours to write.
— Linda C J Turner
Trauma Therapist | Neuroscience & Emotional Intelligence Practitioner | Advocate for Women’s Empowerment
