I Broke the Cycle
From Surviving Abuse to Breaking Generational Cycles: A Story of Trauma, Recovery, and Redemption
I was ten years old when I broke a cycle that had been running through my family for generations. At an age when most children were learning multiplication tables and trading stickers, I walked into a police station and reported my father for the abuse he had hidden behind authority, reputation, and fear. I didn't understand the full weight of what I was doing. I just knew that if I didn't speak up, the pain would never stop.
I didn't know it then, but that moment would shape the rest of my life.
Breaking a cycle doesn't happen in a single act. It happens over and over again, in every choice you make afterward. And for years, I didn't know how to keep choosing healing. Trauma followed me into adulthood, shaping my relationships, my self-worth, and eventually my addiction. I lost myself in the very pain I had tried so hard to escape.
But cycles don't just break once. They break every time you choose truth over silence, recovery over numbing, faith over fear, and purpose over shame. And that's what my life has become-a long, hard, beautiful journey of breaking patterns and building something new.
Trauma Doesn't Disappear Just Because You Survive It
I grew up in a home where violence, addiction, and secrecy were normal. My father was a decorated soldier, a Green Beret, a psychological profiler, and a man who was respected by the community and feared inside our home. My mother battled her own addictions. I was one of sixteen children, and none of us shared the same two parents. Chaos was the air we breathed.
When I reported my father, the system didn't believe me at first. He was one of them-a colleague, a friend, a man with authority. But I persisted. Eventually, both of my parents were sentenced to prison, and I was placed in foster care. I lost my family, my home, and the little sense of belonging I had left.
And even though I had escaped the abuse, the trauma stayed with me.
As a teenager and young adult, I tried to outrun the pain. I drank. I used. I numbed. I convinced myself I was a functioning addict because I could hold down jobs and pay my bills. But addiction doesn't care how hard you work. It takes and takes until there's nothing left.
I lost custody of my first two children. I went to jail. I fell deeper into addiction. I entered violent relationships because chaos felt familiar. I kept repeating the very patterns I had fought so hard to break.
That's the thing about trauma: it doesn't disappear just because you survive it. It shows up in the choices you make when you don't know how to heal.
The Moment Everything Broke-and Everything Began
My breaking point came in a jail cell.
I had been running for years-running from warrants, from consequences, and from myself. On September 19, 2020, the running stopped. I was arrested for a probation violation. While I was waiting for sentencing, I received the news no mother should ever hear: my daughter had passed away from terminal brain cancer. She was only eight years old.
The grief was unbearable. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't even pray the way I thought prayer was supposed to sound. All I could manage were two words: "Help me."
And God met me there.
Not in a church. Not in a moment of strength. Not after I had cleaned myself up. He met me in a segregation cell with nothing but a Bible and a meditation book. He met me in the middle of my pain, my addiction, my grief, and my brokenness.
That was the moment everything began to change.
When I stood before the judge, I asked-honestly, for the first time in my life-for treatment. Not a lighter sentence. Not another chance to run. Treatment. Healing. A different life.
By God's grace, the judge granted it.
Healing Isn't Linear, But It's Possible
I entered treatment expecting to stay ninety days. I stayed for almost a year and a half.
I stayed because I wasn't ready to leave. I stayed because I needed to learn how to live sober, not just be sober. I stayed because I needed to understand my trauma, not just survive it. I stayed because I wanted to break the cycle for good.
And slowly, I began to rebuild:
- I worked through the steps.
- I healed childhood and adult traumas.
- I rebuilt relationships with my children.
- I paid off debts and fines.
- I learned to set boundaries.
- I found a church that felt like home.
- I learned to love myself without numbing.
I became a sponsor. I became a peer mentor. I became someone who could sit with others in their pain because I had learned how to sit with my own.
Healing wasn't linear. It still isn't. But it's possible. And it's worth it.
Becoming the Woman I Needed When I Was Younger
Today, I work as a Residential Peer Mentor at the same addiction treatment center where I once sought help. I get to walk alongside people who are fighting the same battles I fought. I get to remind them that their trauma doesn't define them. I get to help them break their own cycles.
I'm also earning my bachelor's degree in Addiction Counseling, with plans to pursue a master's degree and eventually a doctorate. I want to help people heal the wounds that fuel addiction, not just treat the symptoms.
I remarried. I was baptized the day before my wedding. My life is stable, peaceful, and full of purpose. My husband and I bought a farm-a place full of animals, laughter, and hope. One day, we dream of turning it into a therapeutic sanctuary where people can heal through connection, nature, and God's creation.
I'm building the life I never had. I'm becoming the woman I needed when I was younger.
Breaking the Cycle Is Brave Work
If you're carrying the weight of your family's past, hear me: you don't have to repeat it. You don't have to stay stuck in patterns that were handed to you. You don't have to numb the pain you never deserved in the first place.
Cycles don't end because someone is strong. They end because someone is brave.
Brave enough to tell the truth.
Brave enough to ask for help.
Brave enough to heal.
Brave enough to believe that their story can be different.
I broke the cycle.
And you can too.
