How the Light Gets In: Navigating Broken Relationships

by Janet Merkel

Grief becomes the sacred work that keeps our hearts soft. When reconciliation is not possible, we are called to give thanks for what was, mourn what is no longer, and move forward.

Relationships are challenging. Love is challenging. Nothing stays the same. Life is about change. These are truths we live with but do not always acknowledge. It is much easier to imagine that there is certainty in our lives and relationships. Despite our longing for stability and certainty, misunderstandings, mistakes, and emotional hurts are inevitable, especially with those closest to us. The closer we are to others, the more likely we are to step on their toes. This is not a flaw in our humanity; it is a fundamental part of being human. Conflict is not evidence that love has failed; it is evidence that imperfect people are trying to be close. The true challenge lies not in avoiding conflict but in learning the delicate art of repair when relationships falter.

The art of repair requires the hard work of healing. It means acknowledging our part in the problem and apologizing—not merely with empty words of “I’m sorry,” but with a willingness to change what needs to change for relationships to flourish. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes in The Cost of Discipleship, “Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance.” Words of apology are hollow without the work of reconnection and reconciliation that must follow.

One obstacle to repair is our resistance to acknowledging guilt. It takes humility to name honestly how we have hurt others, and to admit this not only to ourselves but to those we have wounded. Part of the difficulty may be that we have learned to equate guilt with shame. Perhaps we heard “shame on you” as children. But the true shame is not that we have done something we regret; the real tragedy would be allowing shame to prevent us from doing the healing work. Repair requires guilt—honest ownership—but healing requires freedom from shame.

Two virtues are essential for healing: curiosity and compassion. Curiosity invites us to explore what we did and how we came to hurt those we love. It encourages us to look inward and understand the patterns that lead us to stumble. Yet when we feel guilt, many of us default to self-chastisement rather than courageous curiosity. We must distinguish between appropriate guilt for our actions and the destructive habit of self-attack. Self-condemnation consumes psychic energy and blocks our capacity to grow. Without curiosity, there is no transformation. The virtue of curiosity must be cultivated if relationships are to heal.

The second virtue is compassion. We must be compassionate enough to treat ourselves with loving-kindness, even when we feel guilty. Many of us extend far more compassion to others than to ourselves. We may even question whether we deserve it. Yet self-condemnation is not a growth path; it keeps us stuck. Together, curiosity and compassion create the conditions for transformation.

When difficulties arise in relationships, we may despair that all is lost. We may believe we have ruined any chance of repair. Yet healing is not only possible, but it is an expression of our commitment to love. Curiosity and compassion guide us back toward connection.

There is both bad news and good news in broken relationships: they often stir up old wounds. Past hurts can intensify present pain, but they also offer an unexpected opportunity for deeper healing. When a colleague and friend stopped speaking to me a few years ago, the loss was painful. Yet it also reopened an old childhood wound—the pain of receiving the silent treatment when I had done something wrong. In working through the present hurt, I was also given the chance to address and heal that earlier pain.

Another challenge arises when we are the only ones willing to do the work. Repair requires mutual participation. When someone blocks our attempts at reconciliation, the work shifts from repair to grief. Some relationships are meant only for a season. In those cases, grieving becomes essential—it is the antidote to bitterness and rumination. Grief prevents resentment from hardening into a shell that shuts out the light. Grief becomes the sacred work that keeps our hearts soft. When reconciliation is not possible, we are called to give thanks for what was, mourn what is no longer, and move forward. This may sound simple, but it is never easy.

Face-to-face repair remains the most courageous path. It takes humility and bravery to sit with another person and do the work of reconciliation. Many prefer email, text, or other forms of digital communication, yet these mediums are easily misinterpreted and can compound misunderstanding. I once had a young adult patient who believed I was angry with her because I ended an email with a period instead of an exclamation point in response to a scheduling change. She arrived at our next session anxious about my “tone.” Such is the fragility of digital communication.

Ultimately, our aim is reconciliation rooted in love. As Rainer Maria Rilke writes, “For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been given to us—the ultimate, the final problem and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation.” Broken relationships are not proof that love has failed. They are invitations to deeper love—if we are willing to undertake the courageous work of repair.

In keeping with the theme of this Journey issue, I am reminded of Leonard Cohen’s famous line from “Anthem”: “There is a crack in everything—that’s how the light gets in.” The full lyric reads: “Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

Imperfections, brokenness, and flaws are not merely weaknesses. They are opening places where growth, healing, and grace can enter.

Janet R. Merkel, Ph.D., is a psychotherapist in private practice. She teaches and supervises in the Intensive Short-Term Dynamic Psychotherapy program at the New Washington School of Psychiatry.