“I need to see you today because I just need to feel better and I think talking to you will help,” she said tearfully, looking very anxious, as she walked in without a prior appointment. I looked at my schedule and couldn’t figure out how I could fit her session in, but mentally worked things out, seeing how much of a crisis she was in.

After winding up a few sessions, came her turn. A woman in her early 60s, her husband dealing with a terminal illness, she was showing a mix of caregiving burnout, grief, with a gripping fear of losing her loved one. I could tell that she was used to being the woman who put up a brave front, never showed her vulnerabilities to others, served with a smile, and yet was anguished from within.  

She spoke about her husband’s illness, the impact his diagnosis had on her, the several hospital visits alone with him; the children after all are settled abroad. Copious tears flowed and she apologized for them, as is expected from someone who rarely cries in front of someone.

The catharsis continued, since there was so much to unpack on her end. She mentioned his anger and irritability towards her, and the lack of appreciation or connection she felt in the face of his illness. It appeared they were both lonely in their own corners of their world, struggling in the reality of an illness that was about to cause an upheaval in their lives.

“Yesterday, someone was mentioning at the dinner table how they were caught up in the midst of a riot.” She said.

It transported her back to early 1980s when she was in a similar situation. As a newlywed she had taken the bus to meet her parents since her husband was posted elsewhere on the job. On the way back, a riot broke out where there was arson and looting, and the passengers had to fend for themselves. It was the age of no cell phones, and her in-laws didn’t have a landline even. To say she was traumatized would be an understatement, because she said she had frozen in her tracks till a kind lady offered to take her to her home and have her call her parents.

She went along, in the bylanes of a crowded market in the old parts of the city as the woman ushered her to climb the stairs to the first floor where the telephone was. Not knowing any better, she went along, called her mother and soon she was in the safety of her parents’ home, even though the last few hours on the road, feeling helpless, lost, and fearful had left an indelible mark in her mind.

As she spoke about that incident from more than 40 years ago, she said she mentioned it on the dinner table, talking about how impacted she was, how she felt when her in-laws didn’t reach out to check why she had not returned home, and how afraid she was, not knowing whether the lady who had offered help had the right intentions or not. With all the years of being raised with so much protectiveness, she was naïve and vulnerable, and couldn’t discern right from wrong.

The husband got really upset at her, becoming defensive, angry, and feeling the pinch that she was “blaming” his parents. She withdrew into a shell, choked on her tears, and felt her heart becoming really heavy.

This had happened the previous night, before she came by to see me. That episode at the dinner table had left her feeling stifled, suffocated, and misunderstood. We processed it in session where we recognized that all she needed from her husband was to feel heard, for him to feel her pain, to put himself in her shoes and see how terrified she was. That’s all she needed.

She came by two days later, beaming. She had gone home and told her husband that she had met me, and that she realized what she needed. She told him this:

“I want you to just hear me out, hear my pain, hear my story. I am not blaming anyone, I am not holding anyone responsible for what happened that night. I just want you to hear me out, without letting your feelings getting the better of you, without feeling helpless and frustrated that you can’t “fix” this because it happened 40 years ago. Just imagine what I went through as a 21 year old, that’s all.”

She narrated the story to him, tears flowing. He heard her out silently, letting her speak her heart out, for it had carried the burden and the pain for so long.

As she finished, she asked him gently, “Do you have anything to say?”

His eyes welled up, “I could have lost you forever, if you hadn’t found your way back.”

She felt a huge weight lift, knowing her husband could finally “hear” and understand what that young girl went through, not knowing whether she would meet her loved ones again. He felt her terror, the panic, the guilt of not being able to return to her in-laws that night. But most of all, he felt the sadness she was carrying for all these years, of bearing this pain all by herself. That is all she needed him to know. And to know that he loved her deeply which she felt in his quivering voice when he spoke about how glad he was that she was here, by his side.

They held hands in silence, as she felt her husband tighten his grip on her hand, in a way saying, I never want to let you go, till death do us apart.

And in that moment, true healing happened.

There is a reason I am writing this story today. Because I am committing myself to write more about how couples struggle with feeling unheard, dismissed, disrespected, not empathized with, feeling misunderstood, criticized, attacked, blamed, leading to fractured relationships. When I witness conversations like the one I just wrote about, I feel hopeful that collectively people will be more present with their partners, learn to communicate from the heart, with genuineness, empathy, compassion, and love.

It’s so powerful to hear words such as: “I hear you. I understand your pain. I can see why you feel this way. You are not alone, I am with you.” Trust me 😊