“Facing My Inner Storm“

After his wife called me, something inside me snapped. Not out of rage, but realization. I had to stop. I had to repent. I had stepped into darkness, and I needed to turn back. I was in sin—deep, undeniable sin. And I knew it.

That night, I prayed with a broken heart. I promised God that from that moment on, I would do things differently. I vowed to walk away from anything unholy, to never allow myself to be in that kind of relationship again. And I’ve kept that promise to this day.

The woman on the phone—his wife—turned out to be gracious, kind, and heartbreakingly gentle. She didn’t scream. She didn’t curse. Instead, she extended compassion, even toward me. She was educated, composed, and clearly full of love. She told me I was the fourth woman he had cheated on her with. Fourth. I couldn’t breathe hearing that.

In the end, we prayed for each other. Yes, she prayed for me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so humbled. That man had a diamond in his hand, and he had been throwing her away over and over.

After everything I had gone through—the childhood trauma, the broken marriage, the miscarriage, the lies, the betrayal—my soul began to fracture. I couldn’t focus on work anymore. I was starting to slip, to lose grip on things I used to manage effortlessly. Something in me was unravelling.

I knew I had to seek help. Not just pray it away or bury it deeper—I needed real help. I went to see a psychologist. Then a psychiatrist. And by God’s grace, both were good people, understanding and supportive.

The diagnosis came: Borderline Personality Disorder.

I sat there stunned, but also oddly relieved. It finally made sense—why the pain clung to me like shadows, why the wounds felt deeper than skin, why I struggled with identity and emotions and trust. Years of buried trauma had left their scars inside my soul.

All the things I thought I could just survive through—my uncle’s unacceptable behaviour, a questionable root, the loss of my marriage, the miscarriage, the bullying—it had all left a weight on me I couldn’t carry anymore. I tried to tough it out. I tried to smile through it. But my spirit was exhausted.

And as the cracks widened, my professional life started to crumble. I was demoted at work.

It felt like another blow, another loss. But this time, I knew—I had to heal. I had to face this head on. Not in shame, not in hiding. But in truth.

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This story is a part of my personal journey. Please do not copy or reproduce any part of it without permission. Sharing is welcome with proper credit and a link to this blog