WHAT IF LIGHTNING CAN STRIKE TWICE?
Written by Meadowlark Monaghan
I genuinely believe that I am in the best relationship out of anyone I know. Now, lest I suffer the dizzying heights of my moral ground, let me clarify: I want every person inside a relationship or partnership to feel the same. That being said, I certainly didn’t always feel this way.
The path to get here was filled with childhood trauma, codependency, projection, and self-abandonment that bottomed out into an abusive relationship… the last relationship I was in before meeting the love of my life.
This relationship followed the classic trope: a wonderful relationship until it wasn’t. Spun on a web of gaslighting and projection, I was guilted into thinking he was a victim. That I could “save” him. Despite the Psychology degree and a history of helping friends out of toxic relationships, I didn’t even recognize the abusive dynamics I found myself in until the physical harm began. Emotional manipulation is sinister, elusive, and insidious; it’s one thing to unpack the ramifications inside an Abnormal Psychology class and another to unpack how the hell you (a psych major, of all people) wound up in this situation. Not to mention the aftermath, the shame and paranoia that follows you around like a haunting of your own choices. The paranoia that escalates into anxiety attacks and compulsive behaviors. Moving books in front of my ground-level bedroom window, just in case.
I abandoned my self-worth and deservingness for a romance with a cute executive chef at a hip Oakland restaurant. I was painted a vivid story of our future together, and he used it like a carrot on a stick to keep me trapped in a cycle of abuse. I was raised on Anthony Bourdain, what can I say? (Although, even Bourdain warned of the addiction-fueled narcissism that makes up some chefs of the world.) Still, I thought, I’ve already had love, let’s try fantasy.
Six months out from a freshly minted Psychology degree from the University of San Francisco, and out of that relationship, I had moved to the other side of the bay in hopes of finding my first big girl job and enjoying the community I had built. This quickly became impossible as my mental health rapidly deteriorated. I couldn’t seem to take a deep breath. There was a swarm of bees inside the cave of my chest and weights sitting on my lungs with each passing inhale. While trying to heal inside the town that was the background for some of my darkest days, I had grown paranoid to the point of experiencing debilitating anxiety attacks every four days.
I was abundantly aware of the limiting belief that ushered me to this point. Did I mention my dad died the summer before my senior year of high school? I had the best father in the whole world, and he died! Even with only a short amount of time together, I felt I had experienced a type of unconditional love that was considered lucky… Which, my brain somehow twisted from gratitude into a limiting belief.
“Don’t be greedy,” thoughts started seeping their way into my subconscious, “you were loved in a way that doesn’t come around often… you won’t find that in other relationships, so don’t even try…” Lightning never strikes the same place twice, right? You can see where this is going.
After extracting myself from this relationship, I decided it was time to reclaim my happiness and my nervous system. I wanted to feel completely at ease with my own company. Absolutely no time for dating. It was clear to me that being a human means that the process of “healing” never reaches an end goal; that being said, I felt that there was some solo work to do before I was ready to be in a partnership. I had my hands full trying to regulate my nervous system, exploring shadow work, and reacquainting myself with my own safety and self-worth. Simply put: I had enough going on.
I also moved back to San Diego from Oakland. This was mostly against my will and for the sake of being present for some family challenges. Still, the truth I refused to verbalize was that, following my abusive relationship, Oakland didn’t feel like home anymore.
Roughly eight months into the “dating myself” cliché, I had (mostly) accepted how I wound up in an abusive relationship in the first place. This looked like reconciling with the connection between losing my sense of safety with the passing of my dad, learning to find safety, comfort, and joy within myself, and a copious amount of time spent journaling. I also started learning about neuroplasticity (the brain’s ability to change) and how I could rewire my brain to feel deserving of love, receive love, and give love again freely, amongst (you guessed it) therapy! I’m a strong proponent of neuroscience-based manifestation methods—understanding neuroplasticity allows us to rewire our self-beliefs and narratives so that we may feel more empowered to take aligned action with our authentic selves. In essence, I was weaving my own brand of personal development in real time: one backed by neuroscience and supported by spirituality.
This is where my mind was at as I walked, unbeknownst to me, into the beginning of my courtship story.
It was the first day of work at my new job in San Diego. Inside the fluorescent office were two kind but quiet coworkers and an extra empty desk. Twenty minutes later, sunglasses still on, this man strides through the doors. He walks straight past me, until he suddenly realizes my presence, turns, saunters over to my desk, and (literally) does a one-two-step spin move into a handshake alongside a cool, “Hello, I’m Aaron.”
“Oh my god, it’s me in man form,” was the first thought that went through my mind.
Both effervescent, fashion-inclined, and simply being the kind of twenty-somethings who find themselves working in a youth mental health program, we quickly became friends. We even bonded over having each lost a parent in our youth. But I thought nothing else of it—I didn’t even think we were attracted to each other. Sure, there were a couple of instances that felt energetically charged… but I had no “concrete” suggestion to believe this was anything other than my hopeless inner-flirt I was trying so desperately to ignore for the sake of healing.
Within a month, we found ourselves at a concert together. Thirty minutes into the show, as Syd from The Internet started to sing “Girl” (a swoony love trance about owning your worth), this man turns to me and whispers into my ear, “ever since you walked into the office, I feel like I can breathe again.”
With the cat out of the bag, we went back to my studio apartment, talked all night about grief, past relationships, and by morning, we both knew we were spoken for. We’ve been together ever since, dating for the past seven years, married for a year and a half.
Swan diving out of an abusive relationship and into my eventual marriage was not the romance story I would have ever predicted for myself. In fact, in the years since, I’ve found myself persistently drawn to one question: do you need to reach “rock bottom” to make lasting change? Rock bottom led me to exactly where I was meant to be, but I’m not sure I believe that’s true for everyone.
When I try to view my story objectively, I tend to be partial to the balance of healing enough to be in a healthy partnership with the willingness to heal alongside a healthy partner. Because nothing is more triggering than love after abuse.
Finding love (when it was the absolute last thing I was looking for) offered me ample opportunity to flex those resilience muscles I had been working so hard to build. One way this reared its ugly head was in my overwhelming fear response that made itself present during our disagreements. If I had a dollar for every time, in those first couple years of dating, I heard Aaron say, “I am on your team…” At the very least, I’d have a different couch and a PPO.
The insidious indoctrination into inappropriate power dynamics was also revealed to me through my conversations with Aaron. He would catch, and simply point out, beliefs or perspectives that were clearly a result of previous conditioning with my abusive ex. He would gently suggest that perhaps there was another way of thinking. He would act as a container for what he could see I was still releasing myself from. And then, he would step back and let me figure it out. He wasn’t there to save me; he was there to be with me while I continued on my dutiful work to save myself.
Finding your partner is like finding an ornate hand mirror that perfectly reflects all of your trauma and shadows. Deciphering what is upsetting to you in the present and what is triggering an old wound that needs healing is a genuine gift that a partner can give you. And what I’ve come to find is that triggers are the roadmap!
When you want to do “the work” and don’t know where to begin, being triggered is an opportunity from the universe to start pulling on that inner thread. It’s, quite literally, an emotional response that’s crying out, “It’s me! Over here! This hurts! I need to be healed!” And the universe will present you with opportunities (triggers), over and over again, like a kid pulling on your shirt in demand for your attention until you decide to turn and acknowledge them.
Having a partner who is also willing to decipher that dance for themselves and hold space for your inevitable reactions, which may not be entirely warranted to the present moment, is what allows you to grow together. It also helps significantly to lean on your community, to explore these lessons with others, so that your partner does not become the sole holder of the mirror. Your partner is not meant to be your therapist (even if they do work in mental health). And you are deserving of love from a myriad of sources.
This dance defined the first two years of my relationship with Aaron. Today, years later, I happily type this story to you from a place that feels freed of my outdated identity of “lightning only strikes once.”
Ironically, finding my husband allowed me to decentralize romantic love. Previously, I leapt into the abyss of love (or the fantasy of it), losing myself completely within it. This time, having healthy containment from my husband allowed me to shift my focus back to the abundance that was always available to me. I wasn’t in need of love, I already was love. Love is boundless and shapeshifting. It comes in many forms and it is always available—despite who you are around or partnered with. The self-healing I dedicated myself to, inside and out of a relationship, repeatedly reminded me of that, even on days it was hard to believe.
I don’t share my romance story to say that your path will look the same as mine; in fact, I hope it doesn’t. I hope your story is unique, delicious, filled with synchronicities and symbolism that only you can catch. My only hope is to serve as a reminder (and anecdotal evidence for your brain’s expansion!) that it is possible to transition from abuse to love and heal along the way.
Sometimes lightning does strike twice.
My name is Meadowlark Monaghan, I’m the founder of OR Consulting—working on mental health programming with brands, artists, and nonprofits, alike. I am also building a business (stay tuned!) around tools of wisdom for artists. Meanwhile, you can spend time with me on TikTok, Instagram, or Patreon. If you have particular questions about my journey, or moreso, unpacking the nitty-gritty of healing in partnership, come say hi.
