I have a wonderful friend and fellow traveler on the path of betrayal trauma recovery who said something the other day that rocked my world. It went something like this: Don’t be sad for me because I am alone; be sad for the one who stays.

A little over two months ago, I moved into a new house. As a single mom, there was a lot of physicality that went into downsizing and preparing the house to sell. I spent the entire summer in the yard essentially replacing all the sprinklers. I super-deep-cleaned a 3,500-square-foot home and performed a lot of minor repairs. And that was before I began packing and moving. The people at the donation center became fast friends. By the day of the move, it was obvious that things were not well with my knees. Fast forward to two weeks after when I went to Urgent Care (something I have never done for myself) and was diagnosed with an “extreme overuse injury” and was sent home to heal and rehabilitate.

Time went by. I rested. I stopped all physical activity. But I wasn’t getting better. And then the battle morphed from a purely physical one to a mental one. I anguished for the next two months of what I would do if I needed knee surgery. Suddenly, all the crowing I had done about rocking my single life went out the window. I felt truly terrified of what the future looked like as a woman with a severe injury who perhaps wasn’t going to fully heal…ever. The strong health I’ve enjoyed my entire life suddenly appeared to evaporate. How I would live and take care of myself? It was a truly dark time and I kept dwelling on real truth of my situation with a hollow echo back: “I am alone”.

But then my friend said her inspired statement: don’t be sad for me because I am alone; be sad for the one who stays. I remembered that being alone is not a new phenomenon for me. I have been alone for decades. True, I had a husband physically present, yet, he wasn’t really there. For many years, I didn’t understand why a malaise of isolation seemed to follow me around, never imagining the reality lurking around the corner. You are alone when you live with a person who operates a double-life, because you are not able to make informed decisions about your safety, health, and sanity. There is no real connection and bonding. Choice is removed for you personally, without your knowledge, when your partner does not honor marital covenants. Indeed, I feel far less lonely now than I did when I was in my marriage.

I’m not an advocate of leaving a relationship—I stayed in mine for twenty-nine years and I nearly wore myself out trying to save my marriage and my family. This is not a lighthearted subject for me. However, I realize that though I am now single and “alone”, I have far deeper relationships because the nature of living with an addict or a narcissist is they intentionally isolate. Your support network shrinks down to nothing. Now, I have incredible relationships with new friends who mean so much to me. I have an amazing family. I have a wonderful religious community. I am a much deeper person, because for most of my life I bottled myself up, believing the covert message that my needs didn’t matter. I feel like me again for the first time in decades. I am richly blessed.

In my journey of healing and trying to help others, it breaks my heart to see how many women feel like they have to stay. That they don’t have any options other than to live with someone who doesn’t care about them and won’t change. They don’t even have basic respect in their lives, not to mention honor and love. Being a divorced mom was always my worst nightmare and the life I live now is one I would have never even imagined five years ago. But God doesn’t expect his fair daughters to live with abuse. God doesn’t expect us to live a life where we are constantly checking our husband’s phone, monitoring his every move, and inspecting search histories to the point where we can’t eat and we can’t sleep. This is not agency, this is not living. That was never the plan—and it will never be the plan.

Don’t worry about me. I am going to figure out my health concerns, and I am going to rely on my network of genuine relationships to help me if I need it. I am going to express daily gratitude for the gift that I can live a life where the behavior of another, who is supposed to be my closest friend, impedes the Spirit in my home. Yes, life is hard, but don’t feel sorry for me. Worry and pray for the one who is so beaten down by the actions of another that she doesn’t know that she deserves more.