8. March 2026
When Reality Settles In: The Week I Started to Break and Protect Myself at the Same Time
By Jenny Kuemmel, Host of Momma Drama & Trauma
The Shock Begins to Shift
Week Three was the moment reality finally settled into my bones.
Not because the pain softened. It did not.
And not because I suddenly understood the betrayal. I did not.
It was the week my tears became constant.
The week crying no longer came in waves. It came in floods.
The week I was not just trying to survive the shock. I was starting to feel the weight of what my life had become.
My heart was breaking faster than my mind could keep up.
I was exhausted.
Overwhelmed.
Grieving a life that had disappeared overnight.
And even though I was starting to break in new ways, this was also the week I began trying to protect what little of me was left.
The Emotional Pullback I Didn’t See Coming
There were not many texts between us this week. That was not an accident.
I was slowly pulling away.
Not because I no longer cared but because I was tired of collapsing every time he did not choose me.
We still had to communicate about school, schedules and logistics.
But the emotional depth was gone.
Everything felt transactional, hollow and surface level.
And still, somewhere deep inside, a part of me kept hoping he would wake up and see the truth.
See the damage.
See me.
But he did not.
And I could not make him.
Crying Everywhere. The Breakdown I Couldn’t Hide
The boys went back to school this week and their routine held me together more than they will ever know.
But even in the rhythm of morning drop offs and afternoon pick ups, I was falling apart.
I cried in my room.
In the kitchen.
In the bathroom.
In the car.
At the sink.
In the garage.
Anywhere I had a second to breathe, my body broke down again.
They saw more than I wanted them to.
They were not little anymore and even when I tried to hide it, they knew.
And every time they looked at me with confusion or worry in their eyes, my heart cracked a little more.
The Unexpected Mirror. Talking to Her Husband
Week Three was also the week I reached out to the only other person living the same nightmare I was.
Her husband.
We did not know each other.
We were not connected.
But suddenly we were both standing in the wreckage of the same choices. Two strangers living the same heartbreak.
Reaching out was not about anger.
It was not about blame.
It was not inappropriate.
It was not emotional infidelity.
It was survival.
He understood my pain instantly because he was living the same story in his own house.
We did not talk much but the little we did reminded me of something I desperately needed.
I was not alone in the devastation.
The First Safe Place Outside of Family. Dr. Denise
About two weeks after I found out, I sat across from Dr. Denise for the first time.
I walked into her office barely functioning. My mind racing, my heart broken and my body in constant panic.
She did not rush my story.
She did not ask for details I could not form words for.
She did not force anything.
She simply held space.
Her presence made me feel grounded for the first time since everything exploded.
She validated the shock, the fear and the chaos inside me.
She helped me understand that what I was experiencing was trauma, not weakness.
She became my safe place outside of family to speak the things I could not say to anyone else.
Looking back now, that appointment was one of the first real steps toward reclaiming myself.
The Second Safe Place. Breaking on Dr. Kristi’s Table
A week later during Week Three, I walked into Dr. Kristi’s office for the first time.
I held everything in until the moment she called my name and then I broke.
Completely.
Fully.
Without apology.
I cried so hard I could not speak and she did not ask me to.
She simply said,
“You’re safe here.”
Something inside me finally let go.
I cried the entire time she worked on me. My spine, my muscles and my breath. But also my spirit.
She helped release the trauma my body had been gripping from the moment I found out.
It was the first time my nervous system felt even a tiny drop of relief.
It was the beginning of physical healing long before I felt emotionally ready.
When Breaking and Protecting Happened at the Same Time
The strangest part of Week Three was how I was falling apart and building walls all at once.
Breaking.
Because the truth was finally sinking in and the grief was too big to hide.
Protecting.
Because I was starting to understand I could not survive if I kept giving my heart away to someone who was not choosing me.
It was the week I emotionally hit the floor and also the week I took my very first steps toward standing again.
Two completely opposite things happening at the exact same time.
Solutions and Guidance. What Helped Me in Week Three
1. It is okay to ask for help outside your family.
Sometimes the people who love you most cannot hold the trauma your body and mind are carrying. Not because they do not care but because some pain needs professional support.
Both Dr. Denise and Dr. Kristi became the places where I could unravel safely.
2. Your body needs a way to release trauma.
Somatic and body based healing can help your nervous system come down from that constant state of survival.
3. Being strong is not the goal. Surviving is.
Some days surviving is the win.
Some days surviving is enough.
4. Find someone who understands.
Whether it is a therapist, counselor, healer or support group, you deserve a place where your pain is understood without explanation.
Recommended Support for This Stage
Book
The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk
A powerful explanation of how trauma lives in the body and why emotional and physical healing must work together.
Articles
Why Betrayal Trauma Hits the Body So Hard – Psychology Today
The First Steps After Infidelity: What Helps and What Hurts – Verywell Mind
The Healing Power of Feeling Seen and Understood – Greater Good Magazine
Final Thoughts
Week Three was the week everything felt impossibly heavy, but it was also the week I realized I did not have to carry it all alone.
Falling apart did not mean I was failing. It meant I was human.
Reaching out for help was not weakness. It was the first brave step toward healing parts of me I did not even know were shattered.
If you are in your own Week Three right now, crying in the car, breaking in a quiet corner of the house or walking into therapy unsure of what to say, please know this.
There is no wrong way to survive something that broke your heart.
Just keep taking the next breath, the next step and the next small moment of reaching for support.
Healing does not begin when the pain ends. It begins the moment you let someone else help you hold it.
As Always
You are strong.
You are worthy.
And your story matters.
Until next time, take care of YOU. 💗