The Dark Night of the Soul After a Relationship Ends
How Identity, Ego Death, and the Healing Journey Unfold After Deep Loss
by Dr. Denise Renye
There are moments in life when the ground gives way beneath your feet—not from a sudden accident, but from the slow, aching collapse of something you thought would last. The end of a long-term relationship, especially a marriage or domestic partnership, often brings with it a specific kind of grief: one that’s not just about losing a person, but about losing the world you built with them—and the version of yourself that lived in that world.
This isn’t just a breakup. It’s a death of self.
It’s an ego death.
It’s the dark night of the soul.
What Is the Dark Night of the Soul?
Originally rooted in Christian mysticism, the phrase “dark night of the soul” refers to a spiritual crisis—a time when we feel abandoned, disoriented, and completely undone. But for many, this phrase captures what it feels like to go through the end of a deep, long-standing relationship. It’s not just heartbreak. It’s identity-break. It’s the slow unraveling of who you thought you were in partnership, and what you thought your life was supposed to look like. (Read my other blog on the Dark Night of the Soul here)
You may find yourself looking in the mirror and not recognizing who you see. You might wonder who you are if you’re not someone’s partner. You might question your decisions, your self-worth, and your past. It can feel like being stripped bare of everything that once made sense—because, in a way, that’s exactly what’s happening.
When a Relationship Is a Pillar of Identity
In long-term partnerships, especially marriages or domestic cohabitations, we often organize our daily rhythms, choices, social connections, and even dreams around shared life. We merge finances, share homes, raise children, plan futures. The relationship becomes a container for many versions of ourselves—friend, lover, co-parent, confidant, teammate.
When that container breaks, it’s not just the connection that goes. It’s the scaffolding. It’s the way you answered “Who am I?”
And now that question echoes.
This is where ego death comes in—not in the spiritual bypassing sense of detachment and transcendence, but the raw, painful kind. The kind that shows up in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, or on a quiet Sunday when the silence in the house suddenly feels too loud. It’s not clean. It’s not linear. And it doesn’t give you a timeline.
You Have to Go Through It
There’s no shortcut.
No magical bypass.
No spiritual hack.
You have to feel it. You have to grieve not just the person, but the version of you that was tethered to them. And yes, it’s disorienting. You might doubt everything. You might feel like your center has been hollowed out.
But this part matters.
The going through is what begins to shape what comes next.
Some days, you’ll cry unexpectedly. Some days, you’ll feel numb. Other days, you’ll start to feel like yourself again—only to be pulled back into a wave of grief. That’s normal. That’s the truth of healing: it’s not tidy, and it’s not about “getting over it.” It’s about integrating it. It’s about letting the ego death become a portal to a deeper self—one not defined by the relationship, but reborn from it.
The People Around You Matter
In this tender time, who you surround yourself with can mean everything. You don’t need people who rush you to feel better or tell you to “move on.” You need the ones who can sit in the dark with you without judgment. Who won’t ask you to explain your tears. Who won’t make you feel ashamed for the depth of your pain. Who honor your grief as sacred, not weak.
Supportive and nonjudgmental people are the mirrors that remind you of who you still are—even when you forget. They help you rebuild trust in yourself. They bear witness when the weight feels unbearable. Sometimes, their simple presence is what helps you get through one more night.
How I Work With People in This Transition
As a psychologist and sex therapist, I work with people who are navigating this very terrain—the grief, confusion, disorientation, and rebirth that follows the dissolution of a long-term relationship. Whether it’s the end of a marriage, a domestic partnership, or a deeply committed bond, I hold space for the rawness, the questions, the grief, and the glimmers of new selfhood that emerge on the other side.
I offer a compassionate, grounded presence for this passage. Together, we work gently but powerfully to untangle what was, feel into what is, and slowly begin to imagine what could be.
If you're in the midst of this kind of transition and looking for support, you're not alone. I welcome you to reach out and schedule a session. You can learn more about my work and book a meeting with me at www.wholepersonintegration.com/contact.
Journal Prompts for the Dark Night
If you're in it right now, here are a few journal prompts that may help you anchor into yourself:
Who was I in this relationship, and who am I without it?
What parts of myself feel most lost right now—and what parts feel like they might be trying to emerge?
What do I need right now that I’m afraid to ask for?
What would it mean to trust this as a sacred transition, even if I don’t yet know where it’s leading?
What kind of support feels nourishing to me—and what boundaries do I need to protect my healing?
Take your time. Go slow. You’re not behind. You’re becoming.