Secondary Medical Traumas: Facing the Fear of Abandonment and the Struggle to Stay Grounded

Content Warning: This story includes discussions of medical trauma, hospitalization, and serious health issues, which may be distressing for some readers.

Some of the most intense moments in my life have come through medical crises affecting those closest to me. Each experience pushed me to confront feelings of helplessness and the fear of losing those I loved. While these experiences brought my family and me closer, they also reignited a deep-seated fear of abandonment, a wound from childhood that I had carried with me into adulthood. As a man, I felt ungrounded and lost, struggling to be the “rock” I wanted to be but often feeling like sand slipping through my own fingers. Here’s how these medical traumas impacted me and the lessons they eventually helped me find.

The Birth of My Son and Early Experiences of Helplessness

When my son was born on December 13, 2005, via cesarean section, my joy was shadowed by a 10-day hospital stay for my wife as she recovered. Those ten days should have been a time of celebration, yet they were filled with anxiety and helplessness. I found myself unable to rest, constantly concerned about my wife’s condition and the well-being of our newborn son. This event became an unexpected awakening to the responsibility of fatherhood and the vulnerability that came with it.

The fear of abandonment that had long haunted me resurfaced. I couldn’t shake the thought: What if something went wrong? What if they left, and I was left behind to bear the loss alone? I was overwhelmed by the realization of how little control I had in the face of life and death, a truth that clashed with my desire to be a grounded, protective presence for my family.

• Reflection: This experience planted a seed of understanding about masculinity that would grow over time. I realized that being a man wasn’t about always having control or providing solutions but being present, even in moments of helplessness. However, this understanding would take years to accept, as I continued to struggle with feelings of inadequacy.

  
  

2010: My Wife’s Hysterectomy and the Fear of Losing Her

In April 2010, my wife underwent a radical hysterectomy, a 15-day hospital stay that brought us face-to-face with the reality of medical trauma once again. Watching her go through this painful process evoked feelings of terror and powerlessness. My fear of abandonment felt almost paralyzing, as the prospect of losing her became all too real. I could hardly bear the thought of my son growing up without his mother or the devastation it would bring to our lives.

I wanted to be strong for her, to be the steady figure she could lean on, yet I felt fractured inside, as though my foundation was crumbling. I struggled with my inability to take away her pain or to make her feel completely safe. Every moment spent by her side, while meant to be comforting, felt like a reminder of how fragile life truly is. I was forced to confront my own limitations, and it shattered my confidence as a partner and a protector.

• Reflection: This experience deepened my understanding of masculinity, teaching me that support doesn’t always mean fixing things. It meant being there, even if all I could offer was my presence. Yet, my internal struggle with this reality made me feel unmoored, as though my masculine identity was in question, unable to provide the grounding I felt my family needed.

2013: My Mother’s Diagnosis and the Shadows of Past Trauma

In January 2013, when my mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, my world shifted once again. The fear of losing her was visceral, dredging up memories of abandonment that had plagued my childhood. As a man in my adult years, I was supposed to be strong and unshakable, yet I felt like a vulnerable child, longing for the security that only a mother can provide. Her diagnosis brought out a fear I had tried to suppress for years—a fear of being left alone, unanchored, without the safety of her presence in my life.

In the days that followed her diagnosis, I was engulfed by a helplessness I couldn’t shake. I tried to support her, to show up in every way possible, yet I felt as though I was failing, unable to offer the sense of stability I longed to provide. My own identity as a man, as someone who could offer strength and support, felt inadequate. The fear of losing her not only reminded me of my past but also left me questioning my place in the world as if my entire foundation was on the brink of collapse.

• Reflection: My mother’s illness was a harsh reminder of life’s unpredictability and the limits of my control. In an attempt to ground myself, I sought to be present for her without letting my fear consume me. I learned that being “strong” didn’t mean denying my fears, but rather, allowing myself to feel them while still standing by her side. This was a small but important step toward redefining masculinity as something grounded not in stoicism but in resilience and vulnerability.

Lessons Learned and the Journey to Redefine Masculinity

These experiences left me with an undeniable truth: my fear of abandonment was deeply intertwined with my understanding of masculinity and my struggles to feel grounded. Each medical trauma brought with it a fresh wave of helplessness, pushing me to confront the limits of my ability to protect and control. Over time, I began to see these moments not as failures but as opportunities to redefine what it meant to be strong, supportive, and, ultimately, masculine.

Here are some realizations and practices that helped me process these experiences and move toward a more grounded sense of self:

1. Redefining Strength as Presence: I learned that my value wasn’t in my ability to fix or control but in my ability to show up fully, even when I felt powerless. In each of these situations, simply being present allowed me to offer the support my family needed, even if I couldn’t change the outcome. Strength became less about control and more about presence, and I practised grounding myself in the moment by focusing on my breath, reminding myself that being there was enough.

2. Learning to Accept Vulnerability: Facing these medical traumas forced me to acknowledge the fragility of life and my own vulnerability. I resisted the idea of appearing “weak,” but over time, I realized that acknowledging my fears didn’t make me less of a man. Allowing myself to feel and express my emotions openly was an act of courage, a lesson I integrated through therapy and self-reflection.

3. Building Inner Stability through Mindfulness: With each experience, I grew more aware of my need for internal grounding. Practising mindfulness and meditation allowed me to cultivate a sense of stability within myself, regardless of external circumstances. When the fear of abandonment became overwhelming, I would focus on grounding exercises—feeling my feet on the floor, taking slow breaths, and visualizing a sense of strength rooted within me, not dependent on the presence of others.

4. Releasing the Need for Perfection: My desire to be the “perfect” support figure often made me feel inadequate when I couldn’t prevent pain or hardship. Overcoming this need for perfection required me to embrace compassion for myself, recognizing that I was doing the best I could. Accepting that imperfection is part of being human has allowed me to support my loved ones with empathy, without the weight of unrealistic expectations.

5. Reconnecting with Masculine and Feminine Balance: Witnessing my own limitations and my need for support during these times helped me recognize the importance of both masculine and feminine energy. Grounding myself didn’t mean abandoning softness, empathy, or openness. I learned that a healthy expression of masculinity was balanced with compassion and vulnerability, creating a sense of wholeness and resilience.

   
   

Moving Forward: Grounded in Resilience and Openness

These secondary medical traumas transformed my understanding of masculinity, grounding, and what it means to be present. Each experience revealed my fears and insecurities but also showed me that true strength lies not in control or perfection but in acceptance and resilience. I carry these lessons forward with a deeper connection to myself, knowing that my worth is not measured by my ability to prevent pain but by my willingness to face it with courage.

By embracing both my vulnerability and my strength, I have found a new sense of grounding—a home within myself that remains, regardless of life’s uncertainties. These experiences have allowed me to redefine masculinity as something dynamic and authentic, rooted in love, resilience, and presence, rather than control. In my journey as a father, partner, and son, I am continually learning that I can be both strong and tender and that true grounding comes from within.