Seasons of Survival—A Journey Through Trauma, Addiction, and Healing

I’ve had friends, best friends, boyfriends, lovers, one-night stands, enemies, and family—all shaping me into who I am today.

Someone once told me, “Some people are in your life for only a season.” Looking back, that perfectly describes life when you’re young.

Heartache, love, and miracles happen. Each experience teaches us something, shaping our character.

So, where do I start? Today, I’m a happily remarried woman with a 9-year-old daughter, a 15-year-old stepson and two toddlers—a boy and girl. 

But the seasons of my life carried me through dark times before I met my husband. Now, as I grow with him each day, I understand the depth of meaningful relationships—the work they require, the strength they demand, and the journey to love unconditionally.

I believe in filling my toolbox to live a fulfilling life. 

If you’re searching for answers—wondering what happens after you stop drinking, why relapse happens, or how to maintain a balanced existence—then you need ARCS.

It’s not just about knowledge; it’s about strength. Strength to share your struggles, your story, your goals and your victories.

I still remind myself of these seasons. No matter how far I’ve come, my past doesn’t disappear. But I know this: I can do anything I set my mind to, despite the trauma I carry.

It can be easy to slip into old patterns. So, I keep going—one step, one moment at a time. I make space to breathe, to reflect.

There was a light in me as a child. 

I see it in old pictures—the way I loved being outside, exploring, playing, connecting.

I felt alone much of the time, but I remember my sisters being there sometimes. We’d gather the neighborhood kids for soccer, baseball, and football. Those were my best childhood moments.

Being outside meant staying out of trouble at home.

That word—trouble—carries so many memories. Some good. Some great. But mostly, very bad.

No one close to me knew what happened behind closed doors.

The abuse began when I was little and lasted through my teenage years. I remember the moments like they were yesterday. If I don’t catch myself, the fight-or-flight feeling kicks in.

My doctor says it helps to get these memories out—to make peace. So here it goes...

The Flashbacks

1. After church, I ran around playing with friends. But my mother had counted to three. I knew what was coming. When we got home, she yanked my pantyhose off so hard I fell back, hitting my head. I needed six stitches.
   
   
2. Third grade. Standing in a school bathroom stall, crying in pain as I pulled down my pants. My skin was raw, purple, and bloody from a belt. The bruises stretched from my lower back to my thighs, yet I was expected to act like nothing had happened—every time.
   
   
3. I was folding laundry in my room, but it wasn’t “good enough.” As I knelt on the floor, I looked up—just in time to feel a foot slam into my mouth. My lip split open. I might’ve had a concussion. The next day, I was sent to school as if nothing happened. My fourth-grade teacher sent me to the office. Social services came. But what could I say? I was terrified.
   
   
4. I struggled with a school assignment about the dictionary. Each wrong answer meant another spanking. I sat there naked, tears running down my face, trying to remember the answers. I don’t remember if I was allowed to put my clothes back on.
   
   
5. Second grade. I don’t remember why, but I was “too loud.” Duct tape was slapped over my mouth as I was spanked. When it was over, she ripped the tape off my face and left me in the dark basement, alone with the crickets and bugs.
   
   
6. I fell off my bike, scraped my knee, and ran inside for help. I was spanked for “getting hurt.”
   
   
7. I ran and hid under the kitchen table, thinking I was safe. The table was lifted. I was dragged out.
   
   
8. Late at night, under my covers, I heard my older sister screaming as she was beaten. I held my breath, hoping I wouldn’t be next.
   
   

I know I was abused. These memories don’t fade. They live inside me.

And right now, as I write this, I can feel my anxiety rising. So let’s move on...

My past happened. I can’t erase it.
But I can accept it—I can move forward.

I can fill my toolbox with what I need to build a life of peace with myself, my husband, and my children.

1. I still go to therapy because sometimes, I need a different perspective. 
   
   
2. I take medication to keep me balanced. I prioritize self-care. 
   
   
3. I connect with people who get it. 
   
   
4. And I stay ahead of my addiction—every day.
   
   

Because one thought can take me down.
But it’s what I do with my thoughts that matters.

The ARCS course keeps my toolbox full. On my good days, on my bad days—I have what I need to face each season, as it comes.

I understand my triggers now. I see them before they take hold. I connect with others who have walked this path—as children, as teens, as adults, as wives.

And I hope that by sharing my story, I can help someone else.

I would recommend this course to anyone, whether you are an abuse survivor, an addict or just someone who wants advanced awareness and skills for life and relationships.