Sis, You’re Not Crazy—You’re Just Healing: 5 Feelings After Abuse No One Talks About.

Leaving an abusive relationship is often seen as the end of the story. But for many survivors, it’s just the beginning. What comes after is a complex mix of emotions that most people don’t understand — or want to talk about.
Let’s talk about them. Honestly.

Hey sis,

So—you’re fresh out of the fog. Or maybe you’re still caught in the storm of an abusive relationship. Maybe it’s been months or even years since you left, but the feelings still linger in the background of your mind, echoing in places you didn’t even know could hold pain. If you’re anything like me, you’ve spent countless hours—Googling, journaling, reading—trying to make sense of the mess left behind. Anything to understand feelings that, truthfully, you should’ve never had to carry in the first place.

You know the feelings I’m talking about. The ones no one really speaks on. The ones only those of us who’ve lived through abuse truly understand. The emotions that get left out of the self-help books and ignored by the “just think positive” influencers. The ones you can’t even say out loud because they’re too heavy, too raw, too laced with shame to fully name. And yet—they’re there. Every day. Lingering in the silence.

Sometimes it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve allowed yourself to feel anything at all. Because realistically—who can feel when you’re just trying to survive day to day? Other times, you’re too afraid to feel. Afraid of being judged, shamed, misunderstood. Or maybe, like so many of us, you’ve chosen the route of appearing strong—putting on a smile just to prove to the world, and your abuser, that you made it out. That you left. That you survived—without them. Despite everything they did to try and break you.

And then, sometimes, it just hurts too much. All of it. And all you want is to feel better. To forget. To move on. But what happens when that’s not really possible? What happens when there are children involved—when your abuser isn’t just your past, but tied to your present through the ones you love most? How do you “move on” when you see fragments of that pain in your child’s face every day?

Maybe some of this resonates with you. Maybe all of it does. Maybe there are pieces I missed. But no matter what you’re feeling or why, please know this: your feelings are valid. Every last one of them.

Because the truth is, what comes after abuse is its own kind of battle—and there are certain feelings that no one talks about. But today, we are going to talk about them. Out loud. Without shame.

Here are the 5 feelings after an abusive relationship that no one talks about—but we need to.

1. A shot of relief… with a guilt chaser.

Ok let’s paint the scene. You finally got out—or maybe you’re just starting to accept that you need to leave, because the relationship has become too toxic to survive in. So why do you feel bad? Why does walking away from harm feel like you’re doing something wrong? Why does setting a boundary feel like you’re picking a fight… or even committing a crime?

Here’s the truth: these feelings are not accidental. They are conditioned responses, crafted and reinforced by your abuser over time.

Now before we go any further let’s break down this new vocabulary girlie pop…
A conditioned response is basically your brain doing what it was trained to do after being emotionally dragged through the mud for an extended period of time.
It’s like when a dog hears a bell and starts drooling because it thinks food is coming. Except you’re the dog, and instead of a bell it’s a “Where are you going?” text from your looney tune ass ex, and instead of drooling you’re spiraling into anxiety, guilt, and second-guessing every decision you’ve made since 2003.
In abusive relationships, we get trained—yes, I said it… trained—to respond to things like boundaries, silence, or freedom with panic, guilt, or the need to explain ourselves. Why? Because our abuser taught us that choosing ourselves equals punishment, distance equals danger, and saying “no” equals war.
So when you finally do something healthy (like leave or breathe), and suddenly feel like you’re the villain in a Netflix true crime doc… yep. Yup, just like that your entire life just turned into an episode of ‘I Am A Killer’ That’s a conditioned response.
Your nervous system is not broken. It’s just been manipulated like a bad reality TV plotline for far too long. But the good news? That response can be unlearned. You’re not crazy.
You’re just healing from crazy.

In abusive relationships, there’s often a long, painful process of psychological manipulation, also known as coercive control. Your abuser may have blurred the lines between love and punishment, affection and control, apology and gaslighting. One moment they were tearing you down, the next they were clinging to you, begging you to stay. Over time, this inconsistency teaches your brain and body to associate chaos with love, and guilt with survival.

You may have been made to feel responsible for their emotions, their reactions, their rage. You may have been blamed for every argument, accused of being too emotional, too cold, too difficult, too much. Eventually, the belief sinks in that you are the problem—and so when you finally leave or even begin to consider leaving, guilt shows up like an old friend. But it’s not your guilt. It’s a programmed response to years of emotional conditioning.

Even the simple act of choosing yourself—protecting your peace, demanding better, or enforcing boundaries—can feel like betrayal. Not because it is, but because you were taught that your worth only existed in your willingness to endure.

Subconsciously, you might miss the routine. Not because it was good—but because it was familiar. You might grieve the version of them you hoped they’d become. You might feel guilty for walking away from someone you once loved, even if they hurt you deeply.

But sis, here’s what I want you to know: relief doesn’t require permission. You don’t need to justify your healing. That weight lifting off your chest? That breath you’re finally able to take? That’s not weakness. That’s your body remembering what peace feels like. That’s healing. That’s you coming back to yourself.

You’re not doing anything wrong by choosing freedom. You’re just unlearning what someone else tried to make you believe was normal.

2. Numbness.

After months—or years—of walking on eggshells, your body and mind can start to shut down completely. Emotionally, spiritually, mentally… you feel nothing. Not because you don’t care. Not because you’re cold. But because your system is tired. Exhausted. And numbness? That’s not weakness—it’s survival.

You’ve been hiding in your own skin, in your own home, in your own head for so long. And sis, if you’ve ever seen Soul, you know 22? Yeah… that’s you. Just floating around, disconnected, dodging joy, avoiding real connection, and especially… feelings.

But here’s the deeper truth: numbness is what happens when the body goes into emotional shutdown mode—a trauma response known as dissociation. When you’re constantly in fight-or-flight, and it’s not safe to fight or flee, your brain finds another option: freeze. And stay there. For a long, long time.

So let’s pause for a second and dive into how does someone end up here? Simple. Abusers wear you down.

It’s not just the yelling or the hitting—it’s the slow, calculated erosion of your reality.

• They gaslight you until you question your own memory.
• They guilt you until you stop trusting your instincts.
• They mock your emotions until you feel stupid for even having them.
• They create so much chaos that your nervous system starts to accept dysfunction as normal.

Eventually, your brain decides: “We can’t process all this, so we’ll just process nothing.”

You stop reacting. You stop crying. You stop feeling. Because feeling hurt too much—and you’ve learned that having feelings only gets used against you anyway.

This isn’t something to be ashamed of. This is the residue of trauma. Numbness is what happens when your soul goes into hiding just to keep you alive.

But the beautiful part? That soul of yours—it never actually left. It’s still there. And slowly, with safety, patience, and time… you’ll feel again. You’ll laugh again. You’ll live again. You just have to give yourself permission to unthaw at your own pace.

3. Anger towards Yourself.

Whew. This one right here? I consider this one the “silent killer”. Because if you dont speak this one out… baby, it will eat you alive. At some point, whether it’s days or years after the dust settles, a new voice creeps in — and it sounds like your own.
“Why didn’t I leave sooner?”
“Why did I fall for them?”
“How could I have stayed so long?”
“What kind of example did I set for my kids?”
It’s the voice of self-blame — and sis, it cuts deep.

Here’s the part no one tells you: that anger you feel toward yourself? That’s also part of the abuse. That internal shame spiral didn’t just come from nowhere — it was installed. Carefully, over time. It was nurtured every time they made you feel like everything was your fault. Every time they twisted your words, gaslit your reality, minimized your pain, or made you beg for the bare minimum. Eventually, you didn’t just survive the abuse — you started to internalize it.

Psychologically, this is called “introjection”.

Oh Sh*t, look at us learning new vocabulary together & finally putting a label on all of this bullsh*t!!!

Introjection is when you unconsciously absorb someone else’s toxic beliefs or behavior as your own. So for example, when your abuser constantly made you feel like you were never enough, always the problem, always the reason for the chaos? That voice got into you. Now you hear it in your own mind, long after they’re gone.

And if you’re like many of us, you’re raising children with your abuser and by no means do you regret your babies — not for one second. But you do regret who you had them with. You hate the idea of having to co-parent with someone who abused you in the most hurtful ways. Maybe they still use the kids as a weapon to stay connected to you, to control you. Maybe they withhold support when you refuse to engage with them emotionally or worse, sexually. Or maybe—and this one that NO ONE want to admit, but it cuts deep—your kids adore your abuser. Or worse… they’ve taken after them. And it hurts. It’s complicated. It’s heartbreaking.

That anger you feel? It’s grief disguised as anger. Grief for the time lost. For the version of you that kept trying. For the dreams you had to bury to survive. And while you’re grieving, it is 1,000% okay to be angry. But turn that anger toward the truth, not inward at yourself.

You didn’t fail. You fought in the best ways you knew how.
And now? You’re here. Still standing. Still healing. Still choosing you.

That’s not weakness. That’s resilience. And that version of you you’re angry at? She deserves compassion — not criticism. She got you here.

4. Fear of Peace.

You’d think once the chaos stopped, you’d finally exhale. That you’d stretch, smile, and lean into the stillness. But instead… it feels suspicious. Awkward. Even dangerous. And when everything’s quiet, your nervous system starts screaming, “Okay, but when is the next explosion coming?”

Peace, for survivors, can feel like unfamiliar territory. Like an empty room in a haunted house. You’re waiting for the jump scare. Waiting for the slap, the scream, the shutdown. Your body has learned that calm is just the pause before the next storm — so now, peace feels like a trap.

Psychologically, this is called… (BOOM, insert new vocabulary word) hypervigilance.

Hypervigilance is when your brain is constantly scanning for danger, even when you’re safe. It’s not just “being alert” — it’s living in survival mode, 24/7, because your body hasn’t gotten the memo that the threat is gone. And let me be the one to tell you, that’s not your fault. That’s a side effect of trauma.

Abuse conditions us to live in a state of constant defense. We get so used to walking on eggshells that eventually, we start tiptoeing even when no one’s around. And when someone is around—especially if they’re kind, patient, and respectful—it almost makes you uncomfortable. You’re like, “When is the other shoe going to drop? Wait… why aren’t you yelling? Why are you being so nice? What do you want from me?”

Sadly babe, when you’ve been loved the wrong way for so long, real love feels suspicious. Safety feels unnatural. Peace feels earned—not given; and even when its gained it’s still temporary and extremely short lived.

And here’s the part we really need to sit with because f*ck that person! We’re just trying to be better so we don’t miss the blessings that are on the way or maybe in some cases, right in front of us: it’s important to recognize this fear of peace—because it will absolutely follow you into new relationships, whether romantic, platonic, or professional. You might find yourself pushing good people away or questioning their intentions just because they don’t trigger your trauma responses. You might mistake peace for boredom, or sabotage the healthy love that you’ve been manifesting!

News flash, babe: you’re not bored!!!

You’re just not dwelling in the land of crazy anymore.

Sis, please don’t let the devil play on your playground.
Don’t let him whisper lies into your ear that sound like your abuser’s voice. The things your abuser did to you? That’s on them. That’s their shame—not yours to carry. Their actions are not your identity. Their dysfunction is not your destiny.

So take your time. Unpack that fear of peace. Give yourself space to learn what safety feels like again. You are not being dramatic. You are not being too sensitive. You are healing. And healing is a process — not a performance.

You deserve peace. You deserve relationships that don’t require you to shrink, explain, or survive. You’re not hard to love. You’ve just been deeply hurt.

Let peace be your new normal. Even if it feels foreign. Even if it feels fake at first. Eventually, it’ll feel like home.

5. Feeling Isolated, Even in Freedom.

So you’re out. You’re free. You made it through the storm. Everyone claps for you. They say, “You’re so strong!” “You’re so lucky you got out!” And they mean well… but what they don’t see is the ache that still lingers. Because no one talks about how lonely it can be on the other side of survival.

Freedom is beautiful — but it’s also quiet. And when you’re used to living in chaos, that quiet can feel crushing. There’s no one blowing up your phone, no one hovering over your every move, no one manipulating your thoughts — and yet, somehow, you feel more alone than ever.

Because the truth is: abuse isolates you. It cuts you off from your friends, your family, your sense of self. It convinces you that no one else would understand, no one else would care, or worse — that no one else would believe you. And when you finally escape, that isolation doesn’t just vanish. It follows you. It lingers in your mind, in your habits, in your expectations of how people will treat you.

You might find yourself sitting in a room full of people… and still feel invisible. You might struggle to trust new friends or open up to the ones you already have. You might even start to wonder, “Is something wrong with me?”

No, sis. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just healing in a world that doesn’t always make space for the depth of your experience.

So let this be your reminder: you are not alone.
Even when it feels like no one gets it, I get it. We get it.
And just because you’re physically free doesn’t mean you’re emotionally whole — yet.

But that wholeness is coming. It starts by naming what you’re feeling, instead of shaming yourself for it. It starts by finding safe spaces — even if it’s just one voice, one story, one message that reminds you you’re seen.

And remember, sis: your isolation is not your identity. It’s just a chapter.
The right people will find you. The real ones. The safe ones. The ones who don’t need you to explain your pain to believe it’s real.

You may feel alone right now — but you are never forgotten.

These are just five of the hundreds of feelings you may experience before, during, and after a toxic or abusive relationship. And I truly believe it’s so important that we start naming the feelings that society has labeled “unfeelable.” Some of these emotions carry so much shame that we don’t even want to admit we have them—not to our friends, not to our therapist, not even to ourselves. But admission is the first step to healing. We have to name it to face it. We have to own our feelings in order to process them, understand them, and eventually release them. Sis, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You have nothing to fear. Your honesty and your transparency are admirable—even if the only person you’re being honest with right now is yourself.

I see you. I value you. And I honor your ability to process this journey at your own pace. To take it day by day. To cry when you need to. To feel again after spending so long shutting yourself down just to survive. Please, give yourself the gift of feeling. Because that—that ability to feel deeply, to hurt, to hope, to heal—is what separates you from the abuser. That’s what makes you human. That’s what will one day lead you to a life full of real love, true safety, and deep compassion.

You’re not broken, sis. You’re becoming.

Sis, if any of these feelings hit home—I see you. And you’re not alone.
This journey is hard, but you don’t have to walk it in silence.
Comment below, share your own “feeling no one talks about,” or just let me know you’re here and healing too. We’re breaking the silence—together.