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Maybe It’s Time to Let the Old Pain Die
A broken marriage, a lifetime of buried wounds, and the freedom of finally letting go of the past
Disclaimer: This essay is a personal account of my lived experience. Some names, identifying details, and specific circumstances have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved, including my child. While the events are based on real experiences, this piece reflects my perspective, memories, and interpretations. It is not intended to make legal claims or malign anyone. My hope in sharing it is to process what happened, to find meaning, and to support others who may be going through something similar.
“Sometimes things have to fall apart to fall back together.”
That was the last thing Jeanette, a family therapist, said to me before I hung up the phone.
We’d been in touch for a few weeks. Over a series of brief calls, I explained my situation: I was a desperate husband, searching for something, anything, to save my swiftly sinking marriage. She, I believed, could be a lifesaver. The one to keep my wife and I afloat just long enough to realize we still loved each other. Long enough to remember we still wanted this to work.
