Life Beyond The Sight Of Darkness
Life Beyond The Sight of Darkness was created for you — because I know what it's like to feel tired, unseen, and overwhelmed. I know what it's like to be stuck in a season that feels too heavy to carry alone.
I've been there. I've walked through blindness, trauma, and loss. I've had moments where hope felt impossible, where I couldn't see a way forward. And in those dark places, I learned something: God hasn't forgotten us. Even when we can't see Him, He's there.
This space — it's my way of reaching back. It's for the nights when you're hurting and don't know who to tell. It's for the days when you're just trying to survive. Here, you'll find honesty. No pretending, no perfect answers. Just Scripture, encouragement, and someone who understands.
Friend, I need you to know something: you're not alone in this. I see you. God sees you. And together — one day, one step, one breath at a time — we're going to find the light again.
Life Beyond The Sight Of Darkness
Episode 6 What If Mercy Looks Like A Closed Door
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What if the holiest choice is the one that gets you out alive? We open a hard, necessary window into a long marriage that began with promise and ended in a maze of fear, manipulation, and emotional and physical abuse. Through the lens of blended family stress, blurred parenting roles, and a body still recovering from heart surgery, we trace the slow drift from “this is hard” to “this is unsafe” and the moment a whispered prayer—God, get me out—became the path to freedom.
We walk through the markers that separate conflict from abuse: the constant eggshells, the freeze response, panic attacks, and the way dignity erodes when home no longer feels like home. You’ll hear how faith can be misused to keep people stuck, and how mercy sometimes arrives as a closed door, a separation, or a divorce that protects life. We talk about owning personal faults without absorbing blame for someone else’s harm, choosing forgiveness to release bitterness, and rebuilding a nervous system that has lived on red alert. Along the way, we ground the conversation in practical support—church-based care groups, community resources, and the National Domestic Violence Hotline—while offering a simple, courageous reframe: safety is not selfish; it is sacred.
If you’ve ever asked whether staying is love or fear, this conversation gives language, validation, and permission. We name the grief, honor the courage to leave, and hold space for future hope. If your heart races as you listen, consider it data. Press play, breathe, and if you need help, reach out. Subscribe, share with someone who needs to hear this, and leave a review to help others find a way toward safety and healing.
We tell the truth about a marriage that moved from hope to harm and how a desperate prayer led to the courage to leave. Safety, faith, and forgiveness guide a path out of abuse and into recovery.
• defining abuse across verbal, emotional, and physical
• blended family pressures and blurred roles
• nervous system alarms and freeze response
• prayer, faith, and the mercy of closed doors
• separation, affair disclosure, and legal divorce
• grief, self-accountability, and forgiveness
• when staying is love and when leaving is love
• resources and practical steps for safety
National Domestic Violence Hotline 1-800-7997233 available 24-7
Text BEGIN to 88788
Share this with someone who needs to know it’s okay to leave
Subscribe so you won't miss episode 7
If you need help, reach out. Please, I love to hear from you.
This is an introductory audio segment for a show or podcast titled "Life Beyond the Sight of Darkness." The host, Robert B., warmly welcomes listeners and shares his mission: to support people navigating vision loss or trauma by helping them find hope, purpose, and confidence. The tone is friendly and encouraging, emphasizing that no one should have to face darkness alone. The segment ends with an inviting call to action: "Grab your Joe and let's go."
I know exactly the sound you mean. That "shimmering" ambient electric guitar, soft organ pads, and a gentle piano that just breathes with the speaker. It’s that deeply spiritual, reflective atmosphere that invites people in. I’ve dialed in that specific Altar Call feel for you. How does this one resonate?
Have you ever felt unsafe? Have you ever felt unsafe in your own home? Have you ever walked on eggshells every single day, never knowing what might set someone off? Have you ever been trapped in a situation where you couldn't win no matter what you did? Can I be honest with you? Today we're talking about toxic relationships, about abuse, about that gut wrenching moment when you realize the person you married isn't the person you thought they were, and we're talking about that desperate prayer, the one that says, God, get me out of here. I don't care what it cost me. Last week, I told you about my heart surgery back in March 2018, how I came so close to dying, how God stepped in and spared my life. But what I didn't share was what I found when I came home, the part of the story that still makes my heartache. Today, I want to open up about my first marriage to Christy, the woman I truly believed I'd spend forever with. Fourteen years together. Ten of them are good, four of them that nearly broke me. This might be the hardest episode I've ever recorded, because this isn't just a story about a marriage that didn't work out. It's a story about abuse, about trauma, about feeling trapped with no way out. But it's also about the moment God heard my desperate prayer and answered in a way I never saw coming. Before we dive in, I need to say this. If you're in an abusive relationship right now, what you're about to hear might be hard. If you need to, pause and take a breath. But maybe, just maybe, this is the permission your heart has been waiting for. So if you can, stay with me. Let's go. Christy and I crossed paths in 2009, and just a year later, we stood side by side and said our vows. Looking back, those first ten years felt steady. Sure, we had our share of ups and downs, what couple doesn't, but for the most part, life was good. When we started this journey, Christy already had kids. Darien was twelve, Adrian was eight, and little Justin, he was just four months old. Can I be real with you? I had no idea what I was stepping into. Becoming a stepdad to two older boys was already overwhelming, but then came a four-month-old baby. That shook me. Sure, I'd help my sister with her kids when she lived with us, but I'd never been a dad myself. Suddenly, I was in the deep end, and I realized just how unprepared I was. If I'm honest, I was a little selfish at first. I didn't have a clue what I was doing. Over time, something changed in me. I started to grow. I learned what it meant to show up day after day. Justin and I found our rhythm together. As he got older and could run around outside, he was right there with me, almost every moment. While Christie was busy driving Darian from place to place, I was in the yard with Justin, playing, teaching, just being there, fully present. The neighbors started to recognize me. They saw me out there with Justin, day after day. Most of them barely knew Christie at all. I wanted to give him more than just memories. I tried to raise him with respect, with a strong work ethic, with the kind of values I knew mattered most. But here's where it got hard. It felt like every time I tried to build something good in him, Christie would tear it down, over and over again. Honestly, right from the beginning, I felt caught in a mess I couldn't figure out. When Darion had one of his outbursts, trust me, they happened a lot, I kept wondering what my role was. Was I a parent, a step parent, or just the man married to his mom? The lines were blurry. In the chaos of figuring out how to be a family, it felt like everyone was confused, including me. Some days I felt stuck in the middle. I wanted to help, but I wasn't sure if it was my place to step in. We all said things, myself included, that I wish I could take back. Those words felt heavy and left a mark. Looking back, I know we were all just doing our best we could with what we had. But sometimes even your best isn't enough to make things right. After my heart surgery in 2018, it felt like all the things I'd tried to keep buried finally broke through. Suddenly, I couldn't ignore the pain and tension that had been building for so long. When Darion moved out, I had to admit the house felt lighter. For the first time in a while, we could breathe again. There was a sense of peace we hadn't felt in ages, but life has a way of throwing curveballs, doesn't it? Circumstances shifted, and Darian needed to come home, bringing his girlfriend Chelsea with him. At first, we tried to make it work, but before long, the old patterns crept back in, and the tension in our home started to rise all over again. It was like reliving a story I thought we'd already finished. Let me tell you what was really happening. There was abuse in our home, physical, verbal, emotional, the kind that leaves scars you can't always see. I saw things no one should ever have to see. I went through things no one should ever have to endure. Words were spoken that cut deeper than any wound. There was manipulation, fear, and moments when even home didn't feel safe. But I didn't fight back. I couldn't. Why? Because I knew what violence looked like. My childhood taught me to avoid confrontation at all costs. My body was also weak. I had just recovered from open heart surgery and felt fragile in every way. Even if I wanted to fight, I couldn't. Most importantly it wasn't safe, not for me or anyone else. Things got harder for all of us. Even little things could set someone off. We all tried to keep the peace, careful with every step. Fear became part of our daily life. It was always there, whether we were eating or just passing through the house. Living with that much stress with no real rest wears you out. After a while you just feel empty inside. Old hurts I thought were gone started to bother me again. Each day, memories I wanted to forget came back without warning. Sometimes I wanted to act or say something, but I just couldn't. My body shut down to protect me. If you're in a relationship where the environment feels unsafe, hear me. You deserve to feel safe in your own home. If you're experiencing abuse, whether physical, verbal, or emotional, it's not your responsibility to fix the abuser. If your body is shutting down, freezing up, having panic attacks, that's your nervous system telling you something is very wrong. Listen to it, and know that leaving an unsafe situation isn't failure, it's self-preservation. God doesn't call us to endure abuse, he calls us to value the life he's given us. During this time, I didn't just go through one breakdown, I went through several. I spent years in a place that never felt safe, old wounds kept reopening, and I tried to hold everything together while I was quietly falling apart inside. It broke me completely. I felt empty emotionally, exhausted physically, and like a shell spiritually. I remember falling to my knees desperate and frantic and crying out to God God get me out of here. I don't care what it costs me, I don't care if I lose everything, just get me out. I wasn't wishing harm on anyone. My prayers didn't come from anger or a desire for revenge. I was simply praying to survive, hoping for a way out and some relief from a situation that was tearing me apart. Over time, we drifted apart, we hardly talked. We lived in the same house, but it didn't feel like we shared a life. It felt like I was living with a stranger. Money was tight, and the stress kept growing. I couldn't visit my family in Massachusetts, I felt stuck, cut off, and alone. Finally, in late October, I was able to go home to Massachusetts, back to the people who understood me best. That's when I got the call that changed everything. While I was with my family, Christie called and said, I think we need time apart to figure things out. The next day she called again and told me about the affair. Strangely, I felt calm, not because it didn't hurt, but because I knew God was with me. I told her I had suspected something, but didn't have proof. My thoughts were racing. I asked if we could get help and try to fix things. At first she agreed, but a few minutes later she said, I don't think that's going to work. In that moment, I knew our marriage was over. In that moment, I felt relief. Is it wrong to admit that? I wasn't happy about what happened, but I knew God had answered the prayer I couldn't answer myself. I had asked him to help me leave when I couldn't do it alone, and he did. Sometimes God's mercy is a closed door, a relationship ending, or him pulling us out of places that are hurting us. Sometimes God takes us out of situations when we don't have the strength to leave on our own. His mercy can show up as a closed door, a relationship ending, or something falling apart. He loves you too much to let you stay somewhere that's hurting you. If you're in a toxic relationship, whether it's a marriage, friendship, or family, and you keep praying, God change them, fix them, make this work. Maybe the answer isn't for them to change, maybe the answer is for you to leave and that's okay. God doesn't ask you to stay in an abusive situation. He doesn't want you to put up with mistreatment just to keep a commitment, a covenant, or to honor your vows. Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is to walk away. I called my old church Lowell Assembly of God and asked if they had any resources that could help me. They told me about divorce care. I went to every session, every week until the season ended. In January, Christie filed for divorce. For months we sent paperwork back and forth, dealing with lawyers and negotiations. Time, I was going through meetings and doctor appointments for bariatric surgery. I was over 200 pounds, close to three hundred. My family had been hounding me to get the surgery, and I finally agreed. Here's the hard part. Two days after my bariatric surgery, the divorce decree arrived. Just like that it was over. I was free, but I also felt lost. Looking back, I want to be honest about something. I wasn't blameless in all of this. I made mistakes. Sometimes I acted selfishly. I know I could have been a better stepfather, especially in those first years with baby Justin. The marriage didn't end because of just one person. We were both hurting and tried to build something good without first doing the healing we each needed. We both carried unresolved pain, we did our best with what we knew, but sometimes that's not enough to make a relationship work. And that's okay. Today, I've forgiven her. I've forgiven everyone involved. Not because what happened was right, but because holding on to bitterness would only hurt me. Forgiving doesn't mean what happened was right. It just means I'm choosing not to carry that weight anymore. I pray for her healing, just as I pray for my own. We both deserved better than what happened. God used that painful ending to set us both free so we could start to heal. Not every relationship is meant to last forever. Some relationships, even marriages, can be painful. Staying doesn't make you a better person. Sometimes it just makes you feel trapped. If you're in a relationship where you always feel like you're walking on eggshells, you're being verbally or emotionally abused, you get blamed for things that aren't your fault, you have panic attacks, or feel like you're breaking down, you feel trapped and hopeless, you find yourself praying, God get me out, because you can't see another way out. It's okay to leave. God loves you, He sees you, He knows what you're going through. He might be opening a door for you right now. Don't ignore it just because you're afraid of what others might think. Don't stay out of guilt. Don't give up your mental or physical health or your life because you think that's what commitment means. Sometimes love means staying and fighting for a relationship. Other times love means having the courage to walk away. I want to pray for anyone facing this right now. Father God, for everyone listening who is in a toxic relationship, being abused or feeling trapped, I lift them up to you. Give them clarity, give them courage, give them a way out, protect them, bring people into their lives who will support, believe, and help them. If they need to leave, open the door for them, make their path clear, and provide for their needs. For those who have left toxic relationships and are healing, remind them they made the right choice, heal their wounds, restore their peace, and give them hope for the future. Help all of us see the difference between a relationship worth fighting for and one we need to let go of. In Jesus' name, amen. Psalm 34, 17-18 says, The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them, he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. If your spirit feels crushed by a toxic relationship, remember that God is close to you. He hears your cries, he sees your pain, and he will deliver you. Are you staying in a relationship because of love or because of fear? Be honest with yourself. Write about it in your journal, and pray about it too. If your answer is fear, it's time to reach out for help. After the divorce, I felt broken and lost. I had to start over. But God wasn't done with me yet. Next week, in episode 7, I'll talk about the lowest point in my life and when things began to change. There was the surgery, the recovery, and months spent on dating apps. Then a simple wink on OKCupid changed everything. I'll share all of that next week. Before we finish, if you're in an abusive relationship right now, please reach out for help. National Domestic Violence Hotline 1-800-7997233 available 24-7. Or you can text begin to 8-8788. You don't have to go through this alone. There are people who will believe you, support you, and help you get out. Father, for anyone in danger right now, I pray for protection. Give them wisdom and courage. Open doors so they can get out safely. Remind them that leaving isn't failure, it's survival. In Jesus' name, Amen. If today's episode spoke to you, share it with someone who needs to know it's okay to leave, someone who feels stuck, or someone who needs hope. Subscribe so you won't miss episode 7. If you need help, reach out. Please, I love to hear from you. Until then, take care and God bless.