Abuse doesn’t always end when the relationship does. The words spoken in anger, control, or cruelty don’t just fade away when you step into something healthier. They linger, curling into the corners of your mind, surfacing in moments you thought should be filled with joy.
I know this because I’m living it.
For years, I was told I was fat. I was told I was stupid. I was told I would never amount to anything. Those words became a soundtrack, one I didn’t ask for but somehow still hum along to. And even now, years later, in a marriage that feels safe and full of love, those echoes still whisper.
Tomorrow, I’m boarding a cruise with my husband—a man who loves me as I am, who has never once made my size a condition of his love. But instead of packing excitement into my suitcase, I find myself folding in self-doubt.
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“I should have waited until I lost weight.”
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“I should have bought bigger clothes to camouflage my body.”
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“What are people going to think?”
These thoughts don’t come from him. They don’t even come from me, not really. They are remnants of a past voice, one that told me I was never enough. And though I’ve left that relationship, the lasting effects of abuse travel with me, sometimes even threatening to ruin what should be beautiful moments.
The truth is, healing isn’t a straight line. You don’t magically erase years of being told you aren’t worthy just because you finally found love that proves otherwise. You carry scars. You carry doubts. But here’s what else you carry: the choice to keep showing up anyway.
Tomorrow I’ll step onto that ship. Maybe I won’t love how I feel in every outfit. Maybe my inner critic will try to steal the sunshine from the deck. But I’ll also have my husband’s hand in mine, the ocean stretching out in front of us, and the reminder that joy is something I deserve—even if my old wounds tell me otherwise.
The echoes of abuse may linger, but they don’t get the final say.
Nicolle
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