151. The Questions You’re Afraid to Ask: But Desperately Need Answered (Q&A Part 2)

When you’re navigating betrayal, some questions feel too heavy to ask out loud, but they never stop whispering in your mind. “Why do I feel ashamed when I’ve done nothing wrong?” “Why does forgiveness feel like betrayal?” If these thoughts have ever circled in your heart, you're not alone.

In this deeply validating episode about the questions you are afraid to ask, I, Luke Shillings, answer the questions that often go unspoken but urgently need to be heard. From parenting through heartbreak to rebuilding your identity, this is the gentle, no-fluff guidance you’ve been craving. Honest insights, real answers, and grounded support, delivered with compassion and clarity.

Key Takeaways:

• Shame after betrayal often clings to the wrong person; you're not to blame.

• Forgiveness is not about excusing; it’s about freeing your nervous system.

• Your children don’t need perfection; they need your presence.

• Losing your sense of self is a trauma response, not your new identity.

• You don’t need to leap into a new life, just take one intentional step.

💬 Reflection Questions:

Which question in this episode felt like it was written just for you? What do you wish someone had told you sooner?

Connect with Luke:

• Website: www.lifecoachluke.com

• Instagram: @mylifecoachluke

• Email: luke@lifecoachluke.com

Join the After the Affair community at www.facebook.com/groups/aftertheaffaircommunity

Episode Transcript:

The After The Affair podcast with me Luke Shillings is here to help you process, decide and move forward on purpose following infidelity. Together we'll explore what's required to rebuild trust not only in yourself but also with others. Whether you stay or leave I can help and no matter what your story there will be something here for you.

Let's go. Hello and welcome back to the After The Affair podcast. I'm your host Luke Shillings and today you're listening to episode number 151.

This is the second part in the special questions and answers edition of my infidelity expert recovery responses. For those of you who haven't heard it in episode 146 I explored some of the questions that often sit really quite heavy in the heart. The ones that you often feel too tired to ask again and again but also too loud to ignore.

And today I want to continue with that conversation. No fluff, no judgement, no pretending it's easy. Because the thing is the questions you're asking aren't silly.

They come from your most tender, courageous parts of you. The part that has been bruised but still wants to heal. It still wants to understand.

It still wants to believe there's more ahead than just survival. So whether you're listening to this on your commute to work, your morning walk or you're curled up under the covers, this is your space to feel seen, heard and maybe even a little bit more grounded. So let's dive in.

Okay so the first question today is am I the only one who feels ashamed to show up in social spaces even though I did nothing wrong? Absolutely not. And I want you to hear that out loud and clear. You are not the only one.

Shame has a way of sticking to the wrong person after betrayal. You're the one who was lied to. You're the one whose world was turned upside down.

And somehow you're the one avoiding eye contact at parties. It makes no sense but yet it's so common. Because shame doesn't always come from what you did.

It comes from what has been done to you and how visible it feels. You walk into a room and wonder, do they know? Are they talking about me? Do they think I'm weak for staying? Do they think I'm cold for leaving? That is the spotlight effect where we assume that all eyes are on us. When in reality most people are too caught up in their own worlds to be dissecting yours.

But even if they are judging, here's what I want you to remember. Their opinion doesn't outrank your experience. You don't owe anybody a polished version of your life.

This isn't social media. You don't have to explain your pain. And you certainly don't have to wear shame for something that you didn't choose.

What you're feeling is grief, disruption, vulnerability, not failure. So if showing up socially feels hard right now that's okay. Take it at your pace.

Start small. Surround yourself with people who see your strength, not your story. And if shame does try to follow you through the door just remind it, I did nothing wrong.

And I'm allowed to take up space here because, well, you are. Okay the next question is, why does forgiveness feel like a portrayal of myself? Yeah and again this makes perfect sense on the surface. And I know how tender this can feel for people.

And honestly I think forgiveness, as I've spoken about many times in the podcast, is one of the most misunderstood parts of healing. Because somewhere along the way many of us were taught that forgiveness means saying it's okay, I'm over it, I'm not angry anymore, I'm ready to move on. But when you've been hurt deeply, especially by somebody that you trusted, saying those things can feel like you're siding against yourself.

It's like your pain is standing in one corner of the room waving, saying hey don't forget me, this mattered. And forgiveness is being pushed into the other corner trying to smile and say let it go. No wonder you feel torn.

But here's what I want you to know, forgiveness is not betrayal. Silencing yourself is. Forgiveness isn't about excusing what happened, it's not about erasing the consequences and it's definitely not about pretending that trust has been rebuilt when perhaps it hasn't.

What it can be is a quiet choice to stop letting their actions keep bleeding into your peace. Sometimes forgiveness is less about them and more about releasing your nervous system from that constant tension. It doesn't mean you're ready to reconnect.

It doesn't mean you're saying it was okay. It simply means you're tired of carrying the rage like armour. So if forgiveness feels like betrayal right now, don't force it.

You're allowed to hold your boundaries and your truth. You're allowed to be angry and still healing. And when you do decide to let something go, let it be because you're ready, not because you feel guilty for holding on.

Forgiveness should never cost you and certainly not cost you your self-respect. Okay next question is how do I stay emotionally present for my children when I'm barely holding it together myself? Yes well this is something that I think any parent out there can can feel and experience irrespective of what they're, what problem or challenge they're facing in the world at the moment. I think first of all if you're even asking this question then you're already showing up.

You're already trying and that means more than you probably give yourself credit for. I mean to be honest trying to parent through heartbreak is really quite difficult. It can be brutal.

It's like trying to smile when your chest is caving in. You're expected to pour love into them when your own cup feels cracked and empty. And maybe you found yourself snapping more than usual, zoning out, forgetting things, feeling like your child deserves better than this version of you.

But the thing is your children don't need you to be perfect. They need you to be real. They need to see what it looks like when somebody keeps going, even when it's hard.

They learn resilience from watching you feel your feelings and still show up. They learn emotional safety not just when you're calm, but when you apologise after being short with them or losing your temper. When you say mum's feeling a bit sad today but I love you more than ever or dad's saying I'm having big feelings right now buddy but I'm still here with you.

Being emotionally present doesn't mean you never struggle. It means you're willing to name what's happening gently and stay connected in the middle of it. And then there's one more thing.

Don't forget to take care of the caretaker. Because when you're running on empty even the basic steps feel really quite difficult. That doesn't mean hours of self-care or some fancy wellness routine.

It might mean texting a friend back, eating something real, breathing for 30 seconds in a locked bathroom before heading back into the chaos. Tiny acts of self-compassion that keep you tethered. You don't have to do it perfectly.

You just have to stay in the room with them and with yourself. Trust me that is enough. The next question is, is it normal to feel like I'm becoming somebody that I don't even like? Yep okay.

A hundred percent yes. It's not just normal it's actually pretty common. After betrayal, after emotional trauma, after weeks or months of survival mode you can start to look in the mirror and not quite recognise who's looking back.

You might feel angrier, more reactive or maybe quieter than usual, colder than you used to be, more suspicious, less fun and the scary part you're not really trying to be this way. It's just how your nervous system is responding to pain, uncertainty and emotional overload. You're not broken.

You're adapting. This is what self-protection can sometimes look like and just because you're here now doesn't mean this is who you'll stay as. But I get the grief in that question because it's not just about what's been lost in the relationship.

It's about who you feel like you've lost in yourself. That light-hearted version. The generous version.

The one who didn't second-guess everything. The one who laughed more, trusted more, slept better. But becoming somebody that you don't like, that's not a dead end.

It's a signal. It's a nudge to get curious. What am I suppressing? What is it that still feels unsafe? What needs care instead of criticism? Because healing isn't just about going back to who you were.

It's about growing into who you were always meant to be. Someone who can hold the full spectrum of emotions. Somebody who can speak honestly, set boundaries, feel deeply without drowning.

That version of you, they're not a failure. They're a survivor. And with care, support, time, that survivor can soften.

Not into who you were before but into somebody stronger, wiser and kinder to themselves. This next question rings very true to me. It's something I feel I've experienced at multiple points in my life, not just through betrayal.

And the question is, why do I keep replaying arguments in my head and never say what it is that I actually need to say? Well, it's because I didn't feel safe at the time. That's it. That's the answer.

When something happens, an argument, a lie, a betrayal, your body goes into survival mode. And even if you want to speak, part of your brain is kind of calculating the risk all the time. What if they shut me down? What if they twist my words around? What if I make things worse? So instead of speaking in the moment, you rehearse it later, in the shower, in the car, lying awake at night, over and over, just this mental loop.

It's your nervous system trying to finish the conversation you didn't even have. And the reason it's so loud is because those words are still important. They matter.

The truth is still waiting to be acknowledged, not necessarily by them, but by you. You're not weak for going quiet. You're scared, or tired, or confused, or just trying to keep the peace in the moment that didn't feel safe.

And here's the shift. And I'm not saying this just to you. I'm saying this to myself too.

You can still say it, even now. Maybe not to the person who hurt you. Maybe not out loud just yet.

But start with yourself. Write it down. Speak it into a voice note that nobody else hears.

Or say it with a coach, a friend, a mirror. Because when those unsaid words stay stuck inside, they don't disappear. They fester.

They become resentment, or anxiety, or that quiet feeling of, why didn't I stand up for myself? You don't need a perfect moment to express yourself. You just need to stop waiting for somebody else to make it safe. Create your own safety.

Give yourself permission. Say the thing. Even if your voice shakes.

Even if it's just for you. That's where you start reclaiming your voice. Not in the argument that already passed, but in the truth that still wants to be heard.

And that message is for you, and for me. Okay, the final question I'm going to look at today is, how do I create a new version of life when I'm still clinging to the old one? This is a really powerful, common, and honest question. And the first thing I want to say is, of course you're clinging to the old one.

That version of life, as painful as it may be now, well it was familiar. It had routines, memories, anchors. It was wrapped in stories like, this is who we are.

This is what my future looks like. This is how things are supposed to go. And letting go of that, well it's not just about the person or the relationship.

It's grieving an entire identity, a dream, a sense of certainty. So if you're still clinging, that doesn't mean that you're failing to heal. It means you're in the middle of figuring out what this all looks like.

Stop trying to leap into a new life, and instead plant one new seed. One small thing that aligns with who you want to become. Not in the distant future, but right now.

Maybe that's saying no when you usually say yes. Maybe it's taking yourself out for coffee and not apologising for just needing a bit of space. Maybe it's imagining, like just imagining a life where you feel steady, even if you're not there yet.

Creating a new version of life doesn't mean abandoning the past all at once. It means carrying forward only what still fits. You don't have to pretend the old version didn't matter.

You just have to be honest about whether it still feels like home. And if it doesn't, then your job isn't to have the whole next chapter written. It's to start by turning the page.

Because the old version of life may have been beautiful. It may have held love, laughter and meaning. But if it also held betrayal, self-doubt and silence, then maybe, just maybe, it's not the life you were meant to stay in forever.

And if you're scared to imagine something new, good. That means you're standing on the edge of growth. And you don't need to jump.

You just need to take one step. If any part of today's episode made you pause, tear up even, or just quietly whisper yes to yourself, I want you to know that that's not nothing. That's your body saying this mattered.

It's your heart saying I'm still here. You're not alone in your questions. You're not broken for still needing answers.

And you don't have to do this perfectly. You just have to keep showing up. So take what landed, leave what didn't, and come back to these words whenever you forget that your experience is valid.

Your pain is real and your healing is possible. And it matters. If you'd like to share a question for a future Q&A episode or you just want to tell me what resonated for you today, I'd love to hear from you.

You can always reach out to me at luke at lifecoachluke.com or join us inside the After the Affair Facebook group. You can find the links in the show notes. Until next time, continue to be gentle with yourself.

You're doing a lot better than you think. I'll talk to you soon. Take care.