I Wrestled with God, Grief, and Betrayal | Living Through the Unimaginable

There’s no manual for what to do when your life catches fire from all directions at once.

No guide for when your father dies, your relationship collapses under the weight of deception, and your nervous system decides it’s done pretending to be okay.

No one tells you what it’s like to feel holy and hollow in the same breath.

I’ve lived through hard things before.

I’ve been guarded, smart, resilient.

I’ve outworked pain. Outsmarted emotion.

I’ve kept the walls high so I’d never feel what I’m feeling now.

But this? This was different.

This was God-level grief.

This was betrayal so intimate it carved me from the inside.

This was the death of the man who raised me and the unraveling of a man I loved, who was never who he claimed to be.

It wasn’t just betrayal.

It was predation. A slow, intentional unmaking.

He groomed me. Mirrored me.

Gained access by reflecting back everything sacred.

Then devoured the safety, the tenderness, the belief I had in us.

And when I finally saw through the performance, he vanished.

No apology.

No repair.

Just silence.

Because the mask can’t survive being seen.

And still, I’m proud of myself.

Proud that I let myself love.

Proud that I cracked open instead of shutting down.

Proud that I let the fire touch me because I wanted real love, not just safety.

And I survived.

Even when I thought I wouldn’t.

Even when it felt like I was burning from the inside out.

Even when I had no language for what I was living through—just grief, rage, and a thousand versions of “fuck.”

But I’m not surviving the old way.

Not by pretending.

Not by shrinking.

Not by overfunctioning, so no one sees the pain.

I’m surviving in full volume now.

With grief in one hand and truth in the other.

With clarity in my bones and fire in my voice.

This isn’t a story with a bow on top.

This is a reckoning.

A rebirth.

A reclaiming.

I wrestled with God.

I wrestled with grief.

I wrestled with betrayal.

And I came out sharper.

Not harder.

Not colder.

Just clearer.

Clearer about who I am, what I deserve, and what I’ll never allow again.

If you're there too—if you’re cracked open, angry, unraveling, or rising—you’re not alone.

There is no shame in breaking.

There is power in surviving.

And there is something holy waiting on the other side.

It won’t hurt forever. I promise.

By Katherine Tatsuda

Katherine Tatsuda writes from the fire. Grief, loss, betrayal, survival, and from the quiet power of what comes after. Her work is rooted in radical vulnerability, emotional growth, and the conversations most leaders and speakers avoid. She is the voice behind Reinvention Modeled, where clarity becomes strategy and healing becomes authenticity.