Coach Amanda

Perseverance amid Loss

“Never, ever, ever give up.” —W. Churchill

Twenty years ago, on a New York City subway, I gazed up at the man of my dreams and promised, “If you make the plans, I will follow you anywhere.”

Though freshly divorced, I believed our passion and connection could “conquer all.” We eloped and immediately started a family.

Life was beautiful until tragedy struck. First, our precious daughter then, five years later, our treasured son passed away from a mysterious and severe genetic illness. In the aftermath of each loss, the pain was so overwhelming that I sometimes struggled to breathe.

My husband retreated emotionally, so as a homeschooling mother, I took up the gauntlet of taking care of everything and everyone in the home—including the day-to-day finances, car maintenance, appointments, purchasing gifts—everything. I parented with a stoic determination overlaid with a patina of fear. I just could not bear the thought of losing another child.

Additionally, as a certified foster family, over the course of ten years, I mothered eight additional children—eventually adopting twins. Mothering and rescuing became my identity, and, brick by brick, I built a wall around my pain as I delved into healing and caring mode.

My marriage limped along even as I smothered my husband with “wife lessons,” depriving him of decades of “life lessons.” My blossoming superiority complex showed up as masculine energy, and my husband further retreated.

My resentment was at a slow boil.

Just before COVID, we took in a sibling group of four children. I believed it would force us to work as a team and restore the missing connection and intimacy.

It didn’t.

My resentment grew; I felt suffocated and conflicted by the demands of life without my husband’s hands on participation.

And, I was exhausted. I didn’t know how to say “no” to being helpful, and my pure desires lay dormant. It was as if I were living in a sensory-deprivation chamber; I’d completely lost myself in doing instead of being.

One day I vulnerably (or so I thought) begged my husband for support…or something. He was at a loss how to come alongside me—I’d rejected his attempts to serve me so often and was generally unpleasable, so he couldn’t decipher what could possibly make me happy.

I took his inaction as a painful rejection. I felt abandoned and lonely, like a balloon that had been released to float off on its own. My person, who had promised to adore me till death did us part, refused to fix me.

I spent hours rewriting our history: I’d naively missed his red flags and married him too quickly. He’d obviously love-bombed me, because I hadn’t spent enough time healing. I felt victimized and fooled.

I was sure I’d married a thoughtless, immature, misogynistic narcissist who’d never change.

When he began hurling cruel comments in my direction, I fought back with words designed to render him impotent.

Unhealed people hurt others, and we were showing up in our marriage and in front of our children as the worst versions of ourselves.

Our fights became loud and regular; the children got caught in the crossfire. Soon, they started acting out, compounding the chaos.

My husband moved into another room, hiding troubling and offensive things from me. I was sad and angry, and my vision for the future was frightening and confusing.

My resentment reached a fever pitch. I lived in suspicion and distrust and shopped frequently and sneakily for pain. My constant state of Needless Emotional Turmoil deprived me of sleep; I lost so much weight I looked skeletal.

I felt ashamed. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my friends I was desperate for a way out. I felt trapped. I didn’t know where to turn.

Marriage counseling failed, so we hired divorce lawyers. My husband claimed he was “completely done” with me. I felt panicked, but deep down, I wanted to fight for “us.” We’d endured so much together; there had to be a way to save my family.

I prayed for a miracle.

My prayers were answered when Laura appeared in a Google search. The Empowered Wife’s “truth bombs” were the messages I desperately needed. The 6 Intimacy Skills™ were so practical that I clung to her guidance and embarked on my journey.

I started with self-care and discovered ME, and created my own paper. My vision and my paper’s title came in the form of a Self-Fulfilling Prophesy: “I am clothed with dignity and strength.” I invested in smile campaigns, even through the pain, and strove to get ridiculously happy.

Then, my world tilted sideways when I discovered I was a disrespectful wife. My husband’s behaviors were symptoms of my years of disrespectfully interrupting, correcting, and judging his parenting, interpersonal interactions, and financial decisions. My hurts and fears had made me controlling and unpleasable—I’d contributed much to our hostile environment.

Focusing on my husband’s mere-mortal-man moments cost me joy and dignity. Discovering I was neither a victim nor a martyr made me accountable for my healing and happiness.

I became the lighthouse to guide the way to peace and emotional safety!

These days, my marriage is intimate, flirty, and fun. We go on dates and take romantic trips. I regularly receive flowers, kisses, and heart messages of support and encouragement. My trustworthy man praised me for “single-handedly saving our marriage and the family.” He’s now managed the finances for years and has gifted me not one but two diamond rings. We renewed our marriage vows on the beach, and he pitches in to help around the house without me asking!

I am eternally grateful for Laura’s amazing resources. I am empowered to decide how I want to show up in all my relationships because I am the keeper of my dignity and self-respect.

As a Certified Laura Doyle Coach, I am grateful for opportunities to support women on their transformation to healing and empowerment!

I invite you to embark on your own beautiful journey to discover your best and most dignified self!