I Hope She Is Okay

January 8, 2026

An unexpected photo crossed my Facebook feed a couple of weeks ago.

Four lovely women, dressed in Christmas cheer.

Festive. Bright.

A workplace photo full of ease and shared joy.

At first, I smiled when I saw it. It was sweet.

Then my stomach dropped as recognition set in.

I don’t actually know her.

We’ve never been formally introduced.

But we have a complicated, intertwined story.

One I escaped from.

One she is still inside.

She was beautiful in the photo—

holiday earrings,

garland framing her face like a wreath,

her smile open and unguarded.

I stared at the image longer than I expected to.

Took in her outfit.

The jewelry.

The way she held herself.

And the thought that rose, uninvited and unmistakable, was this:

I hope she is okay.

I hope she is happy.

I hope she feels secure.

I hope she feels confident.

I hope she is emotionally and psychologically safe.

Because I used to wear the diamonds too—proudly.

I used to display my love and loyalty for all to see,

while my inner world quietly filled with

insecurity, jealousy, doubt, and fear.

I became more and more reliant on one person to soothe the very pain he was creating.

I know what it is like to be with him.

The feeling of rare connection.

Of friendship.

Of destiny.

Then, slowly, the fraying.

Then the repair.

Then the fraying again.

Then the repair again.

A cruel cycle that takes a real toll on the psyche.

I know what it is like to love deeply and hurt profoundly—and not understand why.

I know how easily he lies.

So to the beautiful woman in the picture:

I hope you are okay.

You are beautiful.

You are worthy.

And you deserve all the magic life has to offer.