How Much Do You Want to Recover?

How much do you want to recover from the pain, shame, and self-blame that came from your relationship scam?

This is not a casual question. It is not a gentle prompt for self-reflection. It is a direct, piercing inquiry into the very core of your will to survive.

The scam was not just a financial transaction; it was a psychic violation that hollowed you out, leaving a cavity filled with the toxic trio of pain, shame, and self-blame. To ask how much you want to recover is to ask how much you are willing to fight to reclaim the parts of yourself you thought were lost forever.

The pain is the most straightforward of the three. It is the sharp, physical ache of betrayal, it is trauma and grief, the suffocating weight of grief for a person and a future that never existed, and the trauma that came from the discovery of the scam. It is the constant, exhausting mental replay of every lie, every red flag not seen, every moment of vulnerability that was weaponized against you. To want to recover from this pain is to want the noise to stop. It is to crave a single moment of silence in your own mind, a day where the memory doesn’t ambush you, a night where you sleep without the ghost of their voice whispering in your ear. This part of recovery is a battle for peace, a grueling process of feeling the agony fully so that it can finally lose its power and become a scar instead of an open wound.

But the shame is a deeper, more insidious enemy. Shame is the feeling that you, at your core, are defective, foolish, and unworthy of love. It is the belief that the scam wasn’t just something that happened to you, but is a reflection of who you are. It is the voice that hisses, “How could you have been so stupid? How could you have fallen for that?” This shame is the poison that keeps you isolated, convinced that if anyone knew the whole truth, they would see you as the broken, gullible fool you see in the mirror. To want to recover from shame is to want to be seen again. It is a desperate, courageous yearning to look another person in the eye without flinching, to tell your story without apology, and to believe, deep in your bones, that you were the victim of a cruel crime, that it was not your fault, and not the author of your own foolishness.

And then there is the self-blame, shame’s pragmatic and cruel twin. Self-blame is the false logic that gives the trauma its control. “If only I had been smarter, if only I had checked, if only I had listened…” This endless loop of “if only” is a trap that keeps you locked in the past, endlessly punishing yourself for a crime you did not commit. To want to recover from self-blame is to want to forgive yourself. It is the radical act of accepting your own human limitations and redirecting the blame where it belongs: on the predator who methodically and expertly exploited your humanity.

So, I ask you again: how much do you want it? Do you want it enough to sit with the pain? Do you want it enough to challenge the shame? Do you want it enough to dismantle the self-blame? Because the depth of your desire for recovery will be the fuel for the hardest fight of your life: the fight to come home to yourself.

Prof. Tim McGuinness, Ph.D.
January 2026