On this episode of Recoverable, host Terry McGuire sits down with Dr. Kiki Fehling — a psychologist, author, and expert in dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) — to talk about why understanding your emotions isn’t enough and how real change begins with doing.
From surviving a heart attack at 29 to helping others navigate trauma, Kiki’s story reveals how DBT can transform pain into growth. Whether you’re struggling with anxiety, addiction, or simply learning to feel your feelings, these insights will help you move toward balance, acceptance, and healing.
Dr. Fehling opens the conversation with a truth that resonates deeply: “Insight can create change, but for a lot of people, it’s not enough.”
Many of us know why we act, react, or hurt. But, knowing doesn’t automatically heal us. DBT steps in where understanding ends — it’s about taking what we know and using it to build better habits, one small choice at a time.
Fehling explains that therapy shouldn’t just explore your past; it should teach you what to do next. DBT is active, skill-based, and grounded in behavior.
“You bring what’s important to you,” she says, “and I give you my knowledge and skills to help you get more of what you want.”
It’s therapy that gets practical — not just why you’re struggling, but how to start changing your life today.
2. The Power of “Both-And” Thinking
At the core of DBT is dialectics — the idea that two opposing things can both be true. You can love someone and be angry with them. You can accept where you are and still want to change.
“Dialectics helps people move away from all-or-nothing thinking,” Fehling explains. “It’s about finding truth in both sides.”
This “both-and” mindset helps people struggling with extremes (such as intense self-criticism, fear, or relationship turmoil) find balance. Instead of living in black-and-white emotions, DBT teaches the gray: the nuance where healing actually happens.
When we embrace both acceptance and change, life stops being a fight and becomes a practice.
3. Radical Acceptance Frees You to Move Forward
Acceptance doesn’t mean liking something painful; it means acknowledging what’s real so you can finally respond to it effectively.
Fehling tells a story from her own life — being stuck in a long-distance relationship during grad school. She fought against the situation until she learned radical acceptance.
“When I finally accepted what was real, it released pressure. I started making friends, investing in where I was — and that’s when everything changed.”
That shift, she says, is the heart of acceptance. “When you stop pushing against reality, you open space for movement, clarity, and even joy.”
4. Emotions Aren’t the Enemy — They’re Data
One of Fehling’s most powerful reframes is simple: emotions aren’t good or bad. They’re information.
“We evolved to feel emotions because they help us,” she says. “They tell us what matters, help us make decisions, and connect with others.”
Anger can protect us. Fear can keep us safe. Even sadness has purpose — it slows us down to process loss. The problem isn’t the emotion itself; it’s when we don’t know how to manage it.
DBT gives people a roadmap to work with emotions rather than against them. By identifying what’s helpful or unhelpful, instead of labeling feelings as good or bad, we begin to use emotions as allies in healing, not obstacles to it.
5. DBT Works Because It Teaches Life Skills
Dr. Fehling often calls DBT “life skills training.” It’s therapy, yes, but it’s also education — learning how to handle stress, communicate better, and regulate your emotions.
From mindfulness to interpersonal effectiveness, DBT teaches what most of us were never taught growing up. “I wish this was part of school curriculum,” Fehling says. “We all feel emotions. Everyone could benefit from DBT skills.”
She recalls her five-year-old nephew learning emotion words in preschool: “That’s amazing,” she says. “Because when you can name what you feel, you can do something with it.”
In recovery, emotional literacy is the foundation for everything else — connection, confidence, and lasting change.
To dive deeper into the skills and stories Dr. Fehling shares, visit the link at the top of the page to listen to this episode of Recoverable on Recovery.com in full – and take the next step toward building your own life worth living.
Check back next Thursday, 11/20, for the continuation of our conversation with Dr. Fehling!
Reality TV often captures the highlight reel, not the heartbreak behind it. But for Dakota Mortensen, known for his appearance on The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, the spotlight revealed something far more complex: a man who has struggled with addiction, loss, and the weight of public perception.
In this episode of Recoverycast, Dakota opens up about growing up in a loving family, the injury that led to his first encounter with pain pills, and the spiral that followed. His story is one of resilience and redemption, from divorce and overdosing to rebuilding his life through faith, fatherhood, and the fight for self-love.
For anyone who’s ever felt trapped by addiction, shame, or the opinions of others, Dakota’s journey is a masterclass in what it means to keep going, and to hold on to even the smallest sliver of hope when everything feels lost.
1. “I Had the Perfect Childhood and Still Fell Into Addiction”
Dakota’s story begins on a farm in rural Idaho, surrounded by family, hard work, and small-town values. By all accounts, he had an “awesome upbringing.” His parents were loving, his siblings were athletic, and he lived for basketball.
“Basketball was my whole life,” he recalls. “I should have known then that I had an addictive personality.” His dedication to the sport bordered on obsession, which would be a preview of how he’d later chase the numbness of a high with the same intensity.
A knee injury during his senior year changed everything. A friend offered him a few painkillers after practice, assuring him they’d “help with the pain.” The relief was immediate, and at the time, the danger was invisible. “I didn’t even know what they were,” he says. “I just knew they worked.”
From that moment, he was hooked. Not just on the pills, but on the escape they provided.
2. “Addiction Doesn’t Care Where You Come From”
Like many teens, Dakota didn’t understand what addiction was, or how quickly it could take over. “I told myself I wasn’t addicted,” he admits. “I heard the announcements at school about pills being bad, but my brain started convincing me I was different.”
Even as his parents caught him with drugs and tried to intervene, he rationalized his behavior. He wasn’t a “typical addict.” He was a hardworking kid from a good family, and that narrative made it even harder to see the truth.
Dakota reflects on this as a warning to others: addiction doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care if you’re an athlete or a straight-A kid from a stable home. “If I could fall into it, anyone could,” he says.
3. “Losing Everything Showed Me What Really Mattered”
As his addiction deepened, Dakota’s life began to unravel. College basketball scholarships disappeared. He quit the sport he once loved. “I didn’t want anything anymore,” he says. “I was fine with nothing. My purpose was just to get high.”
He lied. He stole. He drained his parents’ jars of quarters, the kind families saved for years. “Looking back, it was probably five to seven grand,” he admits.
The real breaking point came when his high school sweetheart (and future wife) walked in on him using heroin. “I saw her face, and I felt nothing,” he remembers. “I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I had no soul.”
That moment, watching the pain in her eyes while feeling utterly numb, marked the beginning of his rock bottom.
4. “Rock Bottom Wasn’t One Moment, It Was a Series of Moments”
After his wife left, Dakota’s world collapsed. “She was the only thing keeping me alive,” he admits. “When she left, I wanted to kill myself.”
He bought a gram of heroin with the intent to overdose. But before he could use, something unexpected happened. His cousin called out of the blue. “He worked at a rehab center,” Dakota says. “He took me in.”
It was the lifeline he didn’t know he needed. For the first time, he prayed. “I wasn’t spiritual, but I said a prayer, just to see what would happen,” he recalls. “And then my cousin called.”
That coincidence became a turning point. In treatment, he began rebuilding from the inside out. He reconnected with faith and learned that recovery wasn’t about perfection, but persistence.
5. “Every Day Sober Felt Like a Miracle”
Early recovery wasn’t glamorous. It was grueling. “Withdrawal is hell,” Dakota says. “But every sober day felt like a miracle.”
For the first time, he began to feel hope, those small moments of self-belief that once seemed impossible. “I started having positive thoughts,” he shares. “Just small things like, maybe I can do this.”
His cousin, who is in recovery himself, mentored him through the darkest days. “It was hardcore,” Dakota laughs, “but it’s what I needed.”
Through faith, therapy, and sheer will, Dakota built a foundation for sobriety that would carry him into his next chapter, fatherhood.
6. “Becoming a Dad Saved My Life”
Nothing prepared Dakota for how fatherhood would change him. “I never thought I’d have a kid,” he says. “Every time I talk about my son, I cry.”
Having a child gave his recovery new meaning. “If I had given up back then, I wouldn’t have my son. He’s my whole world.”
He describes fatherhood as the most humbling, healing experience of his life. “Kids remind you how life is supposed to be, innocent, joyful, present.”
When the world felt judgmental or heavy, his son kept him grounded in love and purpose.
7. “Sobriety Isn’t About Counting Days, It’s About Living Them”
Dakota’s approach to recovery changed drastically after multiple relapses. “I used to obsess over how many days I had sober,” he says. “Now, I just focus on living my life.”
He’s found peace in simplicity, taking it one day at a time. “When I fixate on the number, it stresses me out,” he explains. “This time, I just try to live well, every day.”
Instead of defining success by time, he measures it by presence, joy, and balance. It’s not about perfection, it’s about progress.
8. “Reality TV Tested My Sobriety and My Self-Love”
When Dakota joined The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, he wasn’t prepared for the scrutiny. “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” he admits. “People questioned everything, even if I was still sober.”
He describes the paranoia of public perception, using eyedrops before filming so people wouldn’t assume he was high. “There were nights I cried myself to sleep,” he shares.
But the experience forced him to confront something deeper: self-love. “I had to ask myself, do I like who I am, even if the world doesn’t?”
Learning to separate his identity from others’ opinions became another layer of recovery, one that tested his strength in new ways.
9. “Recovery Isn’t Perfect, But It’s Possible”
Even with over three years sober, Dakota says recovery is still beautiful, messy, and ongoing. “You think getting sober fixes everything,” he laughs. “But that’s when the real work begins.”
He’s learned to manage new forms of addiction, overworking, people-pleasing, and perfectionism, and finds stability through working out, therapy, and staying connected to his sober community.
“Take care of yourself,” he urges. “Find what grounds you, the things that help you feel alive, and don’t drift too far from them.”
10. “There’s Always Hope, Even If It’s Just a Sliver”
If there’s one message Dakota wants to leave listeners with, it’s this: never give up on hope.
“No matter how low you feel, there’s always hope,” he says. “You can be in one place today and in a completely different place next month.”
Hope doesn’t have to be huge, it just has to exist. For Dakota, it looked like a prayer, a phone call, a second chance, a son. And for others, it might be the courage to ask for help for the first time.
This longform article summarizes a conversation on the Giving Voice to Depression podcast hosted by Terry McGuire. In it, Terry speaks with Belfast-based guest Cara Mclean (with reflections from co-host Dr. Anita Sanz) about surviving the darkest stretches of depression and how therapy and small, ordinary moments can keep a person alive and moving forward.
Depression rarely presents as a neat problem with a tidy solution. As Terry emphasizes, it’s messy, cyclical, and honest conversations about it matter. Cara’s story captures that complexity: years of unnamed suffering, attempts to make the pain stop, a courageous return to therapy, and a practice of noticing brief “flashes” of goodness—like the feel of a warm coffee cup or the kindness in a stranger’s hug. Those fragments, combined with skilled support, became her rope out of the pit.
Below is a comprehensive, skimmable list of insights from the episode—a guide for anyone living with depression or supporting someone who is.
1. Name the Illness Clearly
Terry frames depression not as a character flaw but as a real illness that affects thoughts, energy, hope, and motivation. Cara recognizes this now; she once believed her sadness and numbness were simply normal.
As Cara explained:
You know it can really impact everything in our lives. So yeah I think you know it is an illness just like just like you know we have physical illnesses, we have mental illnesses and one of those mental illnesses is depression.
Why it matters: Naming depression as an illness invites treatment and compassion.
What to watch for: Flatness, hopelessness, or a “gray tint” to life are symptoms, not failings.
Try this: When self-blame shows up, gently remind yourself: “Depression is an illness. I’m not weak for having symptoms.”
2. Validate the Past
In therapy, Cara finally called her experiences trauma—after years of minimizing them. Naming the pain shifted her sense of self-worth.
Cara reflected:
It was a validation of it because in a sense I was sort of underplaying it and minimizing it. But I think someone saying to me that, you know, that is trauma. It was difficult to accept, but I think I feel better knowing that, you know, that it was traumatic.
Key insight: Validation doesn’t glorify pain; it locates it.
As Terry observed: We don’t need trauma to grow, but we can grow through it once it’s acknowledged.
Try this: In therapy or journaling, finish the line: “What happened to me was real. It affected me by…”
3. Expect the Mess
Terry compared therapy to cleaning a cluttered drawer:
When you decide to clean out a drawer, you got to take all this stuff out and you make a bigger mess before you can put it back. With therapy, sometimes when you have to unpack what you didn’t even apparently identify as traumatic, it’s going to be a mess until it’s not.
Healing is messy. Feelings surface. Life looks worse before it looks better—but that’s progress, not failure.
What to expect: Temporary chaos and emotional fatigue.
What to remember: Messiness means you’re doing the work.
Try this: When things feel harder, tell yourself: “This is the drawer-on-the-counter phase. It’s messy, and it’s temporary.”
4. Notice the Light
Cara described how joy feels sharper after deep depression:
The happiness after the darkness is like more euphoric each time. I experience like debilitating sadness, but then also like really amazing happiness on a really heightened level where it is euphoric.
When you’re in an episode, it’s easy to forget that joy exists. Recording moments of happiness helps remind you later that light returns.
Try this: Create a “hope file” with photos, notes, or voice memos of times you felt even a flicker of peace.
5. Keep the Ask Simple
At one of her lowest points, Cara didn’t overthink reaching out—she simply Googled “counselors near me” and sent an email.
As Cara recalled:
I just researched on Google, you know, counselors near me and I just emailed a counselor. I didn’t really think too much into it. Something within me was saying, “No, you don’t deserve this, Cara. You need someone to guide you through this. It’s too difficult to go through it alone.”
Lesson: The simpler the step, the more likely you’ll take it.
What helps: One small action—email, text, or call—is enough.
Try this: Use a ready-made outreach message: “Hi, I’m looking for help with depression and would like to schedule an intake. My availability is ___.”
6. Hold On for One Day
Cara’s advice for enduring the hardest moments is simple and powerful:
Please just hold on… Don’t think too far in advance because you’ll just think ‘but I can’t live like this for years.’ Just say okay so I’m just going to hold on until tomorrow. Set yourself a goal for that day and then hold on for the next day and the next.
Dr. Anita Sanz added:
Force yourself as hard as it is because who wants to stay in the present moment when the present moment is awful, but we can handle the present moment.
Focus on the next 24 hours, not the next decade. Tomorrow is far more achievable than forever.
Try this:
Today: Sit up in bed.
Tomorrow: Brush teeth.
Next day: Step outdoors for two minutes.
7. Record the Good
Cara makes a point to document joy, not just pain:
My happy days I make sure to journal about it because I think we tend to journal whenever we’re in darkness which is great but let’s also journal whenever we feel good because then it’ll remind us that it’s possible. Take pictures of something that made you happy… coffee, my dog, whatever it may be.
Why it matters: Depression erases memory of joy. Writing it down creates evidence that good exists.
Simple shift: Let your journal hold proof of both darkness and light.
Try this: Start a “10-second contentment” page. Record brief moments that felt okay—no matter how small.
8. Reframe What You See
Dr. Anita Sanz noted how Cara interpreted small moments differently:
When she saw someone, a couple kiss, it would be very easy in depression to think, “Oh, they have what I will never have.” As opposed to the way she interpreted it, which was as proof that there is love in the world.
Terry added her own twist:
I like the ‘I deserve it’ better. I think I would be more able to say that to myself than, “Oh, it’s possible.” But yes, to say like, “I do deserve that,” you know, that would be a bit of a balm.
Skill: When your thoughts say, “That’s not for me,” try replying, “That exists—and I deserve it too.”
Why it works: It shifts envy to hope.
Try this: Replace “never for me” with “someday for me too.”
9. Expect Ups and Downs
Recovery rarely moves in a straight line. Terry put it this way:
You see what people think recovery looks like—here’s the problem and here is the recovery from it and there’s that lovely straight line between the two. And then what it really looks like is just this tangled ball of yarn with ups and downs and backs and forths.
Cara agreed:
One week I went in and I was feeling great… and the next session I just bawled my eyes out. It just shows the bumpiness of it and paying gratitude to the happiness, but also knowing that in the really dark times that you’ve felt happiness the week before—and it’s not impossible to get back to that.
Recovery looks like waves, not a ladder. Feeling bad again doesn’t erase progress.
Try this: Track your mood daily for 60 days. Watch for overall improvement, not perfection.
10. Speak the Hard Truth
Cara shared how deeper honesty made therapy transformative:
I’ve been to therapy, but this was sort of the first time in therapy that I talked about what I needed to talk about… it was the first time where we validated that, the word trauma. It was quite a difficult year, but therapy has really been one of the things that has saved me throughout the darkness, 100%.
Healing begins when you speak the truth you’ve avoided. Real change follows transparency.
Try this: Write an uncensored page before your next session. Read it aloud to your therapist.
11. Don’t Believe Depression’s Lies
Cara offered a life-saving reminder:
Don’t believe everything that your depression tells you, please don’t believe it. And yeah, you are a human being and you deserve to live and you deserve to have a happy life.
Depression’s voice sounds convincing, but it lies. You don’t need to “feel” hopeful to act like hope is possible.
Try this: Prefix painful thoughts with “My depression is telling me…” to create distance from them.
12. Borrow Strength from Others
Terry explained the importance of peer voices:
A reassurance like that, a message of hope from somebody who’s been hopeless, just carries a different weight.
Cara agreed and added:
Everybody told me this… “Cara, you know, this is going to get better” and I almost rolled my eyes at them and I was like “You don’t know that.” But it does. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but it really, really does.
Hearing lived experience creates believable hope. Connection is medicine.
Try this: Listen to a lived-experience podcast or join an online support group when you feel isolated.
13. Find Stillness in Small Moments
Cara shared how small, sensory experiences remind her that peace still exists:
Whether it be you see two people hug on the street and that just gives you a wee bit of hope that love is possible or you’re sitting drinking a coffee and all you’re kind of thinking about is the actual coffee and nothing else and you say to yourself, I was actually content there for 10 seconds.
Why it helps: Depression drags you into past regrets or future fears; the body brings you back to now.
Practice: Let sensory awareness become your refuge.
Try this 5-5-5 reset:
See five shapes.
Hear five sounds.
Feel five points of contact (chair, air, clothing, floor, heartbeat).
Final Thoughts
As Terry reflected after the interview, Cara’s story reminds us that recovery isn’t about eliminating pain—it’s about remembering that joy can coexist with it. The flashes of hope, though brief, are proof that light always finds its way back.
As Terry expressed:
One of the things I’ve learned from our guests is, we as humans—not even just humans with depression—tend to find what we’re looking for. If we look for reasons that our value in the world is affirmed, we can usually find something. And if we look for ways that we have been made to feel worthless, we will find those too.
Through therapy, honest dialogue, and gentle awareness of life’s smallest moments, Cara demonstrates what it means to hold on—and how, even in the darkest hours, hope can quietly begin again.
Key Takeaways
Therapy is messy but essential. Progress often looks chaotic before it becomes clear.
Validation heals. Naming trauma and depression breaks cycles of shame.
Small joys are lifelines. Ten seconds of peace matters.
Take one day at a time. Tomorrow is more achievable than forever.
You deserve light. Love, connection, and happiness belong to you too.
Peer voices empower. Hope resonates most deeply when spoken by someone who’s lived it.
RECOVERable features conversations with top experts in mental health, addiction recovery, and emotional wellbeing. Each episode answers the internet’s most-asked questions about topics like anxiety, trauma, relapse, and self-growth, breaking them down into clear, relatable insights you can actually use. No jargon. No judgment. Just expert-backed guidance to help you understand and take control of your mental health.
Trauma is more than war stories, it is the everyday ways overwhelming experiences change how safe we feel in our bodies and our lives. In this episode of Recoverable, licensed family therapist and EMDR specialist Laurel van der Toorn sits down with host Terry to tackle the internet’s most searched questions about trauma. This article covers the first five of the top ten, pulled straight from the conversation. We will publish the final five next week when part two of the interview drops.
1) What is trauma?
Trauma is what happened in you, not just what happened to you
Once upon a time we called it “shell shock,” and we thought it belonged mostly to combat veterans. Laurel explains how the field has widened since Vietnam, recognizing that trauma can follow both acute events and experiences that were not technically life threatening, yet deeply threatened your sense of safety, identity, or worldview.
Her working definition is simple and humane, “Trauma is anything that has a pronounced negative impact on your view of yourself or the world and produces symptoms that make life more difficult.” Two people can sit at the same table, hear the same words, and walk away with very different nervous system responses. Perception of threat, and how the brain stores the event, is what drives the aftermath.
A story from the episode makes it clear. An older brother repeatedly terrorized his younger siblings with a horror mask. One little boy, exhausted from constant fear, finally sat on the couch and said, “Do it, just kill me.” The intent was “just a joke,” the child’s reality was mortal terror. The takeaway, your body’s lived experience is the truth that matters for healing.
2) How do I know if I have trauma?
Use the 30 day check and the window of tolerance
After something upsetting, a bumpy few weeks can be normal. Laurel offers a practical guide, in the first 30 days you might see disrupted sleep, appetite changes, edginess, or numbness while your system processes. If those symptoms continue past 30 days, or resurface later in a strong way, it points to a traumatic impact.
Laurel teaches the “window of tolerance,” the zone where you can think, feel, and act at the same time. Inside the window, you are calm but alert. Above it, you feel anxious, keyed up, hypervigilant. Below it, you feel numb, foggy, checked out. Trauma shrinks that window, so everyday bumps knock you out of it faster and longer.
Real life clues help, watch your sleep, appetite, mood swings, and relationship patterns. Do you react to small stressors like a five alarm fire, or go blank when you need to speak? Do you distrust people who are consistently trustworthy? These are signs your body might be protecting you based on past danger, not present reality. Curiosity is step one, not judgment. As Laurel says, “All behavior makes sense in context.”
3) Can childhood trauma affect you as an adult?
Absolutely, and it often shows up first in love and feedback
“Fish do not notice the water,” Laurel says. If you grew up in chaos, chaos feels normal. Childhood experiences shape attachment styles, the patterns we bring to adult relationships. Secure attachment often comes from good enough, not perfect, caregiving. Anxious or avoidant patterns can follow misattunement, unpredictability, or unsafe dynamics. Disorganized attachment is more likely when trauma was severe.
You can hear childhood echoes in adult life. Feeling attacked by simple feedback. Bracing for the other shoe to drop in a healthy relationship. Checking out emotionally when closeness increases. You may even pick jobs that mirror early stress, emergency rooms and courtrooms are full of people who can function in a crisis because crisis once felt like home. Laurel’s goal is not to take away that superpower, it is to help you settle when the shift ends so home does not feel like a crisis too.
Comforting note for parents, “Perfect is the enemy of good.” You do not need 100 percent attunement to support secure attachment. Often, a consistent, good enough response the majority of the time is what matters most.
4) Can trauma be healed?
Yes, healing changes your relationship to the memory, not your identity
Laurel is clear, “Absolutely, I do it every day.” Healing is not forgetting, and it is not erasing the sharpness and empathy you gained by surviving hard things. Think of the trauma memory like a file your brain pinned to the desktop with an alarm. Good trauma therapy moves that file into long term storage where it belongs. You can still open it, but it no longer blares.
People often report a shift from an eight out of ten level of distress when recalling the event to near zero. They say, “It is blurrier now,” or “I feel far away from it,” while staying present and calm. That is healing. You keep the wisdom, you lose the constant survival mode.
Set realistic expectations. Single incident shocks and phobias sometimes shift quickly, especially when you are well resourced. Complex trauma, the layered kind, usually takes longer. Insurance might imagine twelve sessions, but lasting change for complicated histories often needs more time. You can still expect benefit along the way, especially when the approach is evidence based and the therapeutic relationship is strong.
5) What does it mean that trauma lives in the body?
When your mind knows you are safe but your body says danger, that split is the work
“Your body is doing its job, it is just doing too good a job,” Laurel says. Trauma memories are stored as if they were vital for daily survival. A sound, tone of voice, or smell can yank the body into fight, flight, or freeze even when the thinking brain knows, “I am on my couch.” That mismatch, logic versus physiology, is the hallmark of unprocessed trauma.
Laurel draws a useful line between discomfort and triggers. A trigger is not anything you dislike. A trigger is the cue that pulls you out of your window of tolerance. Clues include a racing heart, shallow breathing, a tight throat, a voice that goes high, sudden aches, or shutting down. Track core body functions, sleep, appetite, and movement. Notice patterns without shaming yourself. Those patterns are your map back to safety.
Before you scroll away, try Laurel’s quick body tool. Calm Place: picture a real or imagined safe spot, beach, grandma’s kitchen, even Hogwarts if that soothes you. Notice the light and sounds. Lightly butterfly tap, alternating shoulders once or twice per second. Stay with any small shift toward ease. If nothing shifts, stay curious. You can even tap on your thighs under a table in a meeting, quiet regulation you can use anywhere.
What therapies help with trauma, and how does EMDR work?
Resourcing first, then reprocessing with an evidence based roadmap
The conversation highlights EMDR, eye movement desensitization and reprocessing, and why Laurel loves it. EMDR is an eight phase model. Early sessions focus on history and preparation, building coping tools so you can tolerate intensity safely. Reprocessing uses bilateral stimulation, eye movements, alternating taps, or tones, to help the brain store stuck memories differently. Over time, disturbance drops and the body stops acting like the event is happening now.
Other evidence based options include somatic therapies, trauma focused CBT, and parts work like internal family systems. The best therapy is the one that fits you, with a therapist you feel connected to. Research consistently shows the therapeutic relationship is a major driver of outcomes. One practical tip from Laurel, “Do not work with an EMDR therapist who skips preparation. Resourcing is what lets you process safely.”
6. What’s the Consequence of the Disconnect Between Mind and Body?
Laurel explains that trauma often creates a split between what we know and what we feel. You might logically know you’re safe — sitting at home, talking on a laptop — yet your body insists you’re still in danger. “That’s extremely common with trauma,” Laurel says. “You rationally know you’re okay, but there’s this overwhelming sense from your body that you’re not.”
The consequences ripple through daily life: constant tension, poor sleep, relationship strain, and anxiety that seems to come out of nowhere. Many people end up “white-knuckling” through their days, functioning but never truly feeling safe. Healing means closing that gap — helping the body catch up to the mind.
7. How Can People-Pleasing Be a Trauma Response?
When Laurel says people-pleasing is common in complex trauma, she’s not talking about politeness — she’s talking about survival. “As kids, we may have had to make sure Dad was okay, because if he wasn’t, none of us were,” she explains. “That behavior made sense in context.”
Over time, those same peacekeeping instincts can become exhausting. Adults who were once the emotional caretakers of their households might continue to sacrifice their own needs to keep the peace. It’s not weakness; it’s conditioning. And while the behavior may once have protected them, it now prevents genuine connection.
The good news? Awareness is the first step toward change. As Laurel reminds, “You get to keep the good parts of you — but you can relax and enjoy your life more.”
8. Why Do We Repeat Familiar Patterns — Even When They Hurt Us?
One of the most relatable moments in the conversation comes when Laurel describes how familiarity can feel like attraction. “Sometimes people meet someone and think, ‘They feel familiar.’ And that’s not always a good thing,” she says.
Often, our brains seek to “close the loop” from childhood — unconsciously choosing partners who resemble the people who once hurt or neglected us, hoping for a different outcome. Laurel calls this “the loop getting worse.”
The antidote? Seek corrective emotional experiences. When a relationship feels unfamiliar — calm, kind, even a little boring — that might be what safety actually feels like. “If you’re not immediately drawn to it, that might be a good sign,” she laughs. “Safety can feel boring at first.”
9. Does Trauma Actually Change the Brain?
“Yes — with an asterisk,” Laurel says with a smile. “Trauma changes your brain, but it can be changed back.”
Trauma rewires the brain to stay alert to danger, even when none exists. But the same neuroplasticity that helped us survive also makes healing possible. Through therapy and intentional new behaviors, we can literally reprogram those pathways.
Laurel celebrates small victories: a client asserting a boundary, saying “that bothered me,” and realizing the world doesn’t collapse. “There’s no bigger celebration in my office,” she says. “The brain changes when we practice new behaviors and experience safety.”
Healing doesn’t erase the past — it integrates it. You keep the wisdom, but lose the fear.
How Does Understanding the Brain Reduce Shame?
Shame, Laurel says, is “a stumbling block to healing.” When people understand that their reactions are physiological — not moral failings — it replaces shame with compassion.
“I just try to shift it into curiosity,” she explains. “Let’s get curious: why did you do that?” It’s not about blame, but understanding. “All behavior makes sense in context,” Laurel reminds. “You learned the only safe way to engage was this way. What if you tried it differently?”
That mindset — curiosity over condemnation — opens the door to change. “No one has ever been shamed into effective change,” she says. “Deep, lasting change comes from curiosity and self-compassion.”
10. How Do Therapists Treat Trauma?
For those wondering what trauma therapy actually looks like, Laurel describes it as “a healing relationship.”
“You should feel safe with your therapist,” she emphasizes. “We’re born into relationship, we’re wounded in relationship, and we’re healed in relationship.”There’s no one-size-fits-all approach. Techniques like EMDR, somatic work, or Internal Family Systems are simply tools — but trust is the foundation. If you’re exploring therapy, Laurel encourages you to ask questions: What will sessions look like? What’s the map of where we’re going? Your therapist should be able to explain it clearly, without jargon or mystery.
Conclusion: Healing Is Possible — and Likely
As the conversation wraps up, Laurel leaves listeners with a powerful truth: “We’re all doing the best we can — and we can do better.” Healing isn’t about perfection. It’s about safety, connection, and hope — even if someone else has to hold that hope for you for a while.
“I often tell clients, ‘You may not believe yet that life can be good, but I’ll hold that belief for you,’” she says. “Hope feels threatening when you’ve been in survival mode — but that’s exactly when you need it most.”
If you have ever wondered what it takes to rebuild a life from the rubble of addiction, custody battles, and public scrutiny, you will want to hear from Brittany Jade. The Recoverycast guest and viral creator does not sugarcoat anything, she talks about blackouts and blood draws, courtrooms and character witnesses, relapse and grace. She also talks about what comes next, the steady daily work of staying sober, parenting with honesty, and making amends in action, not words.
Below are nine of the most powerful, practical lessons from Brittany’s story, shared for anyone navigating sobriety, supporting a loved one, or simply trying to be a little braver today.
1) Recovery is not a straight line, it is a daily choice
Brittany opens with the reminder many of us need, recovery has peaks and valleys. She celebrates more than five years sober, then immediately grounds it in reality, some days are still hard, the point is that you keep choosing. That frame matters because it takes shame off the table. When you expect ups and downs, you are more likely to call your sponsor, get to a meeting, or text a friend when a low hits, instead of hiding.
2) Postpartum is vulnerable, watch for the “managed” drink that snowballs
After welcoming twins, Brittany describes the slide that started as a “two drink max,” then crept to every other night, then every night. She tried swapping wine for spirits, but secrecy crept in, bottles hidden in cabinets and closets. For partners and friends, this is a red flag checklist, increasing frequency, rationalizing rules, hiding evidence. For new parents, it is permission to say out loud, postpartum is a high risk season, support and structure are not optional.
3) Court can be a cliff, not a wake-up call, so line up help before you fall
One of the rawest moments, Brittany walks into court hungover, alone, and unprepared. She thinks the old 50,50 custody will stand, the order says supervised visits only. The shock was so crushing that she walked out and decided to drink herself to death, until a friend intervened and said, what are you willing to do to get your kids back. If you are approaching legal proceedings, assume it is a cliff. Bring counsel, bring proof of meetings and tests, bring a support person, and have a treatment plan ready in writing.
4) When the window opens, jump, even if it looks impossible
A detox center agrees to take her without insurance, but there is a catch, $1,800 in cash the same day. Brittany literally had $1,850 in her account, withdrew it, grabbed two tall cans in a last hurrah, then walked into detox. On the hospital’s follow up call, she learns her blood alcohol content was 0.457, the nurse says, you should be dead. The window opened, and she jumped through it. If a bed opens or a scholarship appears, take it. Do not wait for a perfect plan, take the lifeline in reach.
5) Accountability beats punishment, build your own paper trail
Sobriety after detox was not magic. Brittany started testing herself, four to six breathalyzers a day with photo verification, plus weekly drug screens, all logged. No judge ordered this at first, she did it because she knew a judge might someday. That proactive trail later mattered in court, an attorney told her he had never seen someone do so much ahead of time. Lesson, do not wait for a mandate, document your recovery like your future depends on it, because it might.
6) Substitution is still relapse, and it can turn darker, fast
In early separation and loneliness, she started taking slivers of someone else’s Suboxone, telling herself it was fine because opiates were not her drug. Within weeks she was nodding out, then a restraining order, then a two-week disappearance that ended in an overdose, and daily heroin and meth use during that window of despair. It is a stark caution, switching substances is not harm reduction when it is secret, non-prescribed, and destructive, it is relapse.
7) Early sobriety can be medically dangerous, treat it like it is
At one low point, Brittany experienced acute psychosis, hearing convincing voices and music from ordinary sounds. Doctors believed it was day four alcohol withdrawal, and stabilizing medication resolved it. Her point is not to scare, it is to underscore the medical reality, if you have been drinking heavily, do not quit cold turkey alone. Get medically supervised detox to reduce the risks of seizures or psychosis, then step into ongoing care.
8) You can rebuild trust with consistent action, honesty, and living amends
There is a turning moment that sounds almost impossible on paper, after twentyeight days apart, the restraining order is dropped and Brittany regains legal custody, thanks to relentless documentation and a mother who moved across the country to help her establish stable housing. The rebuilding did not end there. With her oldest child, she focuses on showing up, telling the truth about addiction as an allergy, getting her therapy, and making living amends by staying sober today. Trust is not a speech, it is a pattern she is still making, day after day.
9) Build a sober life you actually want, not just a list of things you avoid
In year one, Brittany did at least one meeting a day and skipped events with alcohol. Over time, her program evolved, she finished the Twelve Steps in year five and now sponsors other women. She reshaped friendships so most close friends are in recovery, and she leans on faith and service. The big theme, make a life that supports sobriety, community, purpose, and structure, not just white knuckle avoidance.
Bonus Lesson, Support systems matter more than speeches
Brittany is candid about the pain of feeling punished rather than supported. In hindsight, she and her husband see how distrust and fear drove choices. Today, she is vocal about helping families learn how to support without enabling, finding meetings and therapists, and staying present. If you love someone who is struggling, be the person who drives to intake, not the person who only drives them to court.
Memorable moments you will not forget
“Your BAC was a 0.457, you should be dead.” That sentence, and the way Brittany said she walked into detox anyway, will stick with you the next time you think you have gone too far to turn around.
“Each day that I stay sober is a living amends to my kids.” Put that line on a sticky note. It reframes sobriety as an act of love, visible in calendars and carpools, not just chips.
Why this episode matters
This is not a tidy after-school special. It is messy, human, and hopeful. You will hear about a mom who lost almost everything, then did unglamorous, repeatable things, testing, logging, meetings, calls, therapy, amends, until life got bigger and steadier again. You will also hear about the pitfalls many of us minimize, managing drinking rules, swapping substances, walking into court alone, ignoring medical risk in withdrawal. And you will hear what helps, radical accountability, a plan before the panic, a support person who can physically get you where you need to be.
The bottom line
The biggest lesson from Brittany Jade is simple, you are not ruined by your worst day, you are rebuilt by your next one. If you are drinking more than you mean to, if you are hiding it, if you are scared by how much it takes to feel normal, tell someone today and make one accountable move, call a detox, text a friend to drive you, or order a breathalyzer and start a log. Your future self, your family, and your body will thank you.
Listen to the full episode, share this post with someone who needs a nudge, and take a minute to reflect, what is one small, concrete step you can do today that your tomorrow will recognize as courage.
This long-form listicle summarizes a conversation from theGiving Voice to Depressionpodcast hosted by Terry McGuire. In this episode, Terry and co-host Carly speak with Caryn, a listener who shares her lived experience navigating treatment-resistant depression (TRD), the hard work of finding the right care, and the everyday practices that make recovery feel possible.
Depression is both real and hopeful—those dual truths frame the entire interview. Caryn’s story moves from years of deep, physical, isolating pain to a season of cautious celebration: she has a therapist who fits, a support system she trusts, and a treatment plan that finally gives her energy to engage with life. What follows are the most practical, heart-level takeaways from Caryn’s journey—organized so you can skim, save, and share.
1. Recognize Seasonal and Emotional Patterns
Caryn has noticed a yearly deepening around October. Instead of bracing alone, she alerts friends in advance. When the wave hits, she and her circle already have a plan.
Make a trigger calendar: seasonal shifts, anniversaries, work cycles, and holidays can amplify symptoms.
Communicate early: text trusted people before your “season” starts: “If I go quiet, please check in.”
Stock supports: schedule extra therapy, refill meds, prep food, and clarify boundaries.
As Caryn acknowledged:
My depression is always the deepest of it has always started in October. I had actually had a feeling that it was coming. So I did tell my friends. I’m like, yep. I said, I have a feeling things are going to be rough in the next few weeks. I said if I’m, if I need you, can you be there?
This is emotional weatherproofing: you can’t stop the storm, but you can board the windows.
2. Focus on One Minute at a Time
In acute episodes, Caryn doesn’t try to “win the day.” She narrows the time horizon until it’s survivable.
Minute-by-minute coping: break tasks into 60-second steps—sit up, drink water, open the blinds.
Micro-rewards: every tiny action counts; the point is momentum, not perfection.
Language shift: “I’m living for the minute” turns crushing days into manageable intervals.
As Caryn put it:
I think when I go through those times, I really have to just make it through the next minute. You know, I have to put the clock back a little bit and say, okay, I’m not living for today. I’m living for the minute.
This is not giving up; it’s right-sizing recovery.
3. Keep Searching for the Right Therapist
Caryn spent three years searching for a therapist who fit. The difference when she found the right one felt “liberating.” Fit, not perfection, is the aim.
Qualities she needed: full attention, non-judgment, genuine care, and clinical steadiness.
Expect trial and error: chemistry, approach (CBT, psychodynamic, trauma-informed), and logistics all matter.
Permission to change: you’re allowed to switch; that’s not “failing”—it’s advocating.
As Caryn reflected:
I’ve spent the past three years looking for the perfect therapist. And I’ve went through a lot of rough ones, but I finally have found the one for me and to have that in my life is so liberating. I finally am not fighting anymore for the help that I need.
Therapy is a relationship. Relationships take time to find and time to grow.
4. Let Medication Support Your Energy
After many disappointments, a medication shift gave Caryn a striking lift—in five days. That surge of energy didn’t “solve” everything, but it unlocked participation: therapy, walks, work, and normal routines.
Reframe meds: not weakness—tools. We use insulin for diabetes; we can use antidepressants for depression.
What to notice: more mental energy, easier initiation, fewer crashes, slightly brighter baseline.
Combine approaches: meds + therapy + social support + daily habits often work together.
As Caryn shared:
I felt that release. It’s like all of a sudden my shoulders went back. A smile went on my face and I was like, is this too good to be true? This is the best I have felt in years. All of a suddenly this rejuvenation, you know, and this feeling like, oh my gosh, I can tackle the world.
And later, Caryn added:
It finally just gave me some of the energy, like, okay, I can go to therapy and have productive sessions. I can take a walk on a nice day. I can, you know go to work and be very productive and, and normal is in quotation. Just the fact that, you know, just to know that there are things out there that can make a difference.
Hope can arrive chemically. Use it to re-enter life.
5. Build and Use Your Support System
Caryn told friends in advance that a hard stretch was coming. When she needed to cry—ugly, heaving, relentless—she called. Her friend stayed present for 15 minutes. It helped.
Script it: “If I call and say I need to cry, can you just listen for 10–15 minutes?”
Differentiate support: Friends for presence, professionals for treatment.
Normalize activation: “It’s time to call someone” becomes a skill, not a last resort.
As Caryn recounted:
I remember calling her up and when she says, Caryn, should I call the hospital? Should I come over? Should I do this? I said, no. I said I think all I need to do is cry. And she was like, okay. And she let me cry for like 15 minutes straight, nonstop… and it was so deep. But like after like 10, 15 minutes I just said, okay, I’m done now.
Connection doesn’t fix the illness; it strengthens the person.
6. Know Who to Call and When
A hallmark of Caryn’s growth is triage: she asks, “Is this for friends or a professional?” That clarity prevents overloading loved ones and ensures she gets the care she needs.
Create a contact map:
Friend A: distraction or walks
Friend B: late-night listening
Therapist: trauma work, treatment
Doctor/Prescriber: medication management
Set expectations: ask what each person can realistically offer.
Respect limits: healthy relationships have boundaries.
As Caryn clarified:
Now what’s kind of nice is that I can see, you know, okay, this is not a situation for my friends. This is a situation for a professional.
This is not cold—it’s wise.
7. Practice Permission, Not Perfection
When symptoms spike, pushing often backfires. Caryn practices self-permission: pause without guilt, then re-enter when capacity returns.
Mantras to try:
“This is temporary.”
“Rest counts.”
“I can try again later.”
Grace in action: cancel plans, shorten work blocks, choose the 5-minute walk over the 5-mile ideal.
Watch the shame-loop: guilt ≠ motivation; compassion sustains effort longer.
As Caryn encouraged:
Things that help me now, I think just sometimes just giving yourself that time when you need it. That is crucial. If you are not in a good state of mind and you’re forcing yourself to go out and go to work or to go and do normal things, if you can’t do it at that time, give yourself that grace and give yourself the time that you need.
Gentleness is productive.
8. Relearn Habits One Step at a Time
If depression disrupted hygiene, sleep, food, movement, and social rhythms, expect rehab, not instant bounce-back. Caryn talks about retraining her brain after years in “the pit.”
Occupational-therapy mindset: incremental, repeatable, graded exposure to normal life tasks.
Stack small wins: shower cap days → full rinse → hair wash → moisturize.
Track cues: morning light, warm beverage, laid-out clothes—make the first step friction-free.
As Carly observed:
We think of it as a mental health situation that it is located just in the brain, but that physical lethargy that can come with it, that flatness, the amount of effort it takes, I know I’ve certainly felt that.
Consistency beats intensity.
9. Expect Your Toolkit to Evolve
What helps in one episode may not in the next. Caryn’s toolkit evolves: sometimes journaling helps; sometimes it doesn’t.
Toolkit menu (rotate, don’t force):
Body: warm shower, short walk, stretch
Mind: journaling, thought-labeling, one-page plan
Soothing: weighted blanket, scent, music
Connection: text, voice memo, scheduled call
Green/Yellow/Red plans: create options for different symptom levels.
As Caryn explained:
That’s the thing what I noticed too, is that my toolkit changes all the time, each episode that happens, you know, sometimes journaling is a really good tool for me, whereas sometimes that’s just not going to cut it for me.
The tool isn’t “wrong” if it doesn’t help today. Try another.
10. Let Emotion Move Through You
Caryn’s 15-minute cry wasn’t a breakdown; it was breakthrough. Afterward she noticed relief and reset. Emotions move when they’re allowed to finish.
Contain it: set a 10–20 minute timer, choose a safe space, hydrate after.
Pair it: follow a cry with grounding—hand on heart, name five things you see.
Reassure yourself: “My nervous system is discharging; I’m okay.”
As Terry gently checked in:
The day you needed to cry, were you having suicidal thoughts or were you suicidal?
And as Caryn reassured:
I wasn’t but it was like i just want to make sure the depression itself was that depth it was that deep it was dark… I’m just so glad that I’m at a point in my life where I know that I can reach out. And I know that that I am not alone in anything whatsoever.
Catharsis is care.
11. Celebrate Progress, Not Perfection
One of Caryn’s biggest wins: suicidal thoughts have receded even when depression symptoms linger. That is massive.
Track meaningful metrics: safety, engagement, self-compassion, recovery time after a dip.
Language upgrade: from “I’m still broken” to “I’m improving the version of me that exists now.”
Borrow belief: let others’ confidence sustain you until your own returns.
As Terry affirmed:
That is a huge stride, Caryn.
A listener’s words also stayed with Caryn during a program:
Caryn, you’re never gonna be the same person that you once were. But you are going to be an improved version of that person that you used to be. You’re gonna be a better person.
A different self can be a truer self.
12. Keep Looking for the Light
Two metaphors thread Caryn’s story:
Weatherproofing: When you know a storm is coming, you prepare home and heart.
Light through a crack: Even a sliver counts; sometimes the light fills the room.
Why metaphors help: they translate symptoms into plans.
Try your own: tides, seasons, tunnels—pick one that invites patience.
Practice noticing: when a “sliver of light” appears (a laugh, a text back, a productive session), name it.
As Caryn encouraged others:
There is light, you know, even it’ll be in various shades. You know sometimes it’s just a little bit of light that you see through that crack take in that little bit a light while you can yeah and sometimes you see a whole huge you know room full of light and you know oh my goodness be extra grateful for that.
Tiny light is still light.
13. Reframe Resistance as Hope
“Treatment-resistant” doesn’t mean hope-resistant. Caryn’s experience reminds us that resistance is situational, not permanent: a different dose, a new medication class, a trauma-informed therapist, a better-timed support call—any one of these can shift the system enough for light to enter. Progress might come as relief first, clarity next, then capacity. Each is meaningful.
As Carly closed with gratitude for lived experience:
It’s something that I don’t believe from people who’ve never experienced depression, but it’s hard to not believe Caryn when she says what she says.
You are not behind if it took years to find a fit.
You are allowed to feel proud for trying again.
You are allowed to rest when your body says “not yet.”
Recovery is less a finish line and more a relationship—with your body, your people, and your care.
The journey to recovery from addiction, trauma, and mental health challenges is intensely personal, yet deeply interconnected with the dynamics of one’s family. For siblings Alyson Stoner and Correy O’Neal, growing up in the same dysfunctional and abusive home led to distinct, yet ultimately convergent, paths toward healing. Their candid conversation reveals how shared family trauma can manifest in unique struggles—from disordered eating and addiction to hyper-perfectionism and homelessness—and how the rediscovery of a trusted, body-centered approach to recovery became a cornerstone of their reconciliation.
The Individuality of Shared Trauma: Different Coping Mechanisms Emerge
The experience of growing up in a home marked by divorce, addiction, and daily abuse from their stepfather created a fundamental sense of division and fear for both siblings. However, their methods for coping with the traumatic environment diverged significantly, highlighting the intensely individual nature of a trauma response.
For Alyson, whose professional career began at age seven, the response was immersion in work. “Mine was to just work more,” they shared. This form of hyper-independence and reliance on external achievement served as an escape, sweeping them away from the daily fear and dysfunction at home. Conversely, Correy’s response was to escape physically and mentally, retreating to her room to create “her own little world” away from the danger downstairs. This isolation was compounded by a sense of loneliness despite having people in the house, a common experience in dysfunctional family systems.
The siblings revealed a heartbreaking truth: their in-home communication about the abuse was non-existent. Alyson recalled a “triangulation” orchestrated by the parents, where they would share negative information about the siblings to pit them against one another and change their view of Correy’s “behavior, as if there were problems that I should never try to repeat and create.” This manipulation drove a wedge between them. Correy, feeling a “justice oriented” impulse, was often more interactive with the abuse, attempting to intervene, yet they “never really talked about it.” This highlights how a highly dysfunctional home can isolate children, even those sharing the same bedroom walls, leading to individual survival strategies rather than mutual support.
The Abusive Cycle: Gaslighting and the Facade of Normalcy
The experience of abuse was made profoundly confusing by the classic cycle of abuse, which involved a daily pattern of violence followed by denial and a forced return to an illusion of a happy family. The stepfather would often “pretend that nothing happened or he denied everything,” leading to significant gaslighting and confusion.
Correy noted that this cycle eventually became “clockwork,” where the abuse happened nightly, but “the morning was like this forgot.” This forced return to normalcy, including being “forced to kiss him on the lips,” created a devastating facade that the children were compelled to maintain.
As Alyson shared, any outward affection from the abuser was met with a demand for reciprocation, “be punished if we don’t reciprocate,” further muddling the children’s understanding of love and safety. For a child, this confusing environment fails to “set up the best train of thought into how somebody else will be treating me in the future and how I’m allowed to respond to it,” leaving them without a model for healthy relationships or boundaries.
Disrupted Attachment and the False Narrative of a Biological Parent
Another deep source of trauma for both siblings was the manipulated relationship with their biological father following the move and divorce. Correy, as the oldest, felt lucky to have had “the most time with him” before the move, noting him as the “only person that I can reflect back on that was reliable.” However, the “rules in our California home” demanded they maintain a “facade of perfection” which included the expectation that they cut their father off. As a child, concerned about safety, Correy felt she had to comply, cutting off the one person she believed to be truly trustworthy.
Alyson, who was much younger, was presented with a “completely different narrative about who he was,” leading them to grow up “not trusting him at all” and perceiving him as someone who didn’t care enough to see them. This manipulative narrative around a loving parent is a severe form of psychological abuse that isolates children from a vital source of support.
Years later, Alyson’s adult decision to seek a “rounder picture” by getting their father’s input led to a tender moment when he showed them a “pile of news clippings and articles and different things that reminded him of my the personality he knew I had, at least as a little one.”
Correy also revealed a powerful, hidden memory: “My dad sent me a cell phone, so I had an Ohio cell phone number, and he said, if we ever need him to call.” This phone, a forbidden lifeline, was a “physical representation” of his attempt to provide a secure attachment despite being actively kept away, a testament to the powerful, protective bond he sought to maintain.
The Convergence of Adult Struggles: Addiction and Perfectionism as Trauma Responses
Despite growing up with distinct coping styles, both siblings’ young adult lives were marked by similar struggles: addiction, disordered eating, and hyper-perfectionism. They recognized that the chaotic and substance-filled environment of their childhood home had established a “paradigm around using something to feel a certain way or get a certain thing,” which was “pretty deeply embedded in the house.” They saw escapism modeled through “substance,” “yo yo dieting,” and the ubiquitous presence of “alcoholism” and “pills” as the only adult methods for “dealing with life.”
Struggle
Manifestation
Rooted in Trauma
Disordered Eating
Focused on body image to meet external industry expectations (Alyson); used as a tool alongside substances (Correy).
Modeled family use of food/exercise for feeling a certain way; seeking control in an uncontrollable environment.
Substance Abuse/Addiction
Used as a “fast solution” and a numbing tool (Correy); avoidance and escapism.
Modeled adult use of substances for avoidance; seeking to cope with emotional pain.
Hyper-Perfectionism
Maintaining a facade of “buttoned up and PR ready” at all times.
Trained obedience to protect Alyson’s career and the family’s image; fear of negative outcomes.
The most significant barrier to seeking help was the rigid control over their image. Correy recounted a chilling moment of self-harming “as a hope to be seen and helped,” only to be told, “put long sleeves on.” This reinforced the absolute necessity of the exterior facade, actively shutting down any possibility of discussing struggle or need for support. This is a clear example of how a family can condition a child into a maladaptive response to trauma.
From Rock Bottom to Recovery: The Decision for Change
For both siblings, the decision to pursue recovery was not a single, courageous moment, but a desperate, gradual sequence of decisions made at rock bottom. Alyson described the severity of their situation as a “life or death decision,” where they finally realized they wouldn’t make it unless they did something different. Their path was one of “micro steps of just having a flash of insight, recognizing something needs to change, looking for a resource.”
Correy’s rock bottom involved a physical escape at age 17 after she experienced physical assault and attempts to get help from school counselors and CPS failed. Her “first step in wanting something different” was leaving, an event that culminated in all her clothes “in garbage bags on the front lawn.” This act of being forced out, followed by a period of homelessness—living in her car, afraid to be too far from her neighborhood—was a “crumbling.”
“I hit a rock bottom with an eating disorder. I hit a rock bottom with, um, a substance abuse addiction. I hit a rock bottom. Like with relational addictions,” Correy recalled. Her ultimate turning point was a realization: “If I have no joy, then what is all this for?” This profound question forced a significant change in both environment and behavior.
Hyper-Independence as a Survival Skill and Barrier to Support
The siblings’ shared experience of being treated like “adults” or being expected to “figure it out” created a profound sense of hyper-independence. Correy described herself as the “figure it out person” and “the oldest daughter,” a role she “had to be.”
When a child is relied upon—whether as an emotional support, a confidante, or the primary income earner—they are forced into a premature parental role. This creates a deep-seated inability to ask for help, a key symptom of a trauma-induced coping mechanism.
The absence of competent adult modeling meant they had to constantly “figure out, so what is healthy then? What is functional? What does healing look like?” They relied on searching Google and reading books rather than consulting a human, demonstrating the lasting distrust in the reliability of other people. The “concept of my friends wanting to go to a relative for advice was not something that I could relate to,” Alyson admitted, underscoring the lack of a reliable, guiding “manual” in their lives.
The Healing Bridge: Somatic Psychotherapy and the Body’s Truth
The final, beautiful convergence of their recovery paths was through somatic-focused, body-centered tools. Alyson started exploring these tools to address health issues and physical symptoms that standard mental health approaches weren’t alleviating. They noted that their body actually did remember their father to be trustworthy, even when their mind, clouded by the false narrative, did not.
Somatic psychotherapy focuses on the mind-body connection, helping individuals process and release trauma stored in the body by tuning into physical sensations. The body, the nervous system, and not just the mind, hold the imprints of trauma. By reconnecting with their physical selves and processing the physiological responses linked to traumatic experiences, they found a path to healing the root cause of their anxiety, hypervigilance, and emotional numbness. This shared, body-centered healing language became the “shared experience” that allowed them to finally tiptoe their way back into communication and reconcile, realizing they had been healing in parallel.
The Systemic Nature of Recovery: Healing the Family Unit
The siblings’ story is a powerful illustration of the systemic nature of addiction and trauma recovery. When one person in a family unit struggles, it affects everyone, and similarly, true healing for one often requires a systemic shift that influences others.
Individual Recovery: Alyson and Correy had to first prioritize their individual safety, separation, and mental health through their own “rock bottoms” and years of therapy.
Systemic Repair: Their shared language of somatic healing acted as a “bridge” over the years of triangulation and isolation, allowing them to finally validate each other’s distinct traumatic experiences and begin to heal the fractured sibling relationship.
Post-Traumatic Growth: The engagement of all family members in recovery is crucial for long-term psychosocial stability. Their reconnection represents a vital step in this systemic repair, where the individuals who were isolated by the trauma are now unified by their journey through it, becoming sources of strength for one another.
Alyson and Correy’s journey from isolated survival to shared recovery offers a profound message of hope: even when two people live through the same trauma, the path to healing will look different, but it is possible for those paths to converge in a powerful and redemptive way.
Breaking the Cycle: The Role of Service and New Parenthood
Correy, now a parent, spoke movingly about how having her own children has become a form of “therapy,” allowing her to reparent herself and give “so much more grace to my younger self.” She and Alyson also found a shared mission in service as co-founders of Movement Genius, leveraging their lived experience to build global campaigns centered on human well-being. This pivot to service is a form of post-traumatic growth, transforming their pain into purpose and building the support they never had for others.
Their decision to share their story publicly, together for the first time, not only validates their experiences but offers a crucial resource for others. It emphasizes that individual recovery is valid, even if it looks messy, and that the ultimate goal is not perfection, but a genuine, joyous life forged from the ashes of trauma.
This article summarizes a powerful episode of the Giving Voice to Depression podcast hosted by Terry McGuire, featuring licensed therapist Carolina Bracco. Together, they explore how growing up with emotionally immature or overly critical parents can deeply influence a person’s mental health and inner world—and how healing and self-compassion can begin at any stage of life.
Bracco, a childhood trauma survivor herself, shares how patterns of shame, criticism, and emotional neglect create an internalized belief that we are unworthy or “not enough.” Yet through awareness, self-parenting, and compassion, she reminds listeners that healing is possible—even for those who never received emotional safety as children.
1. Understanding Childhood Trauma Beyond the Obvious
When most people hear the term childhood trauma, they often think of overt abuse or neglect. But as Bracco explains, emotional wounds—like being raised by highly critical or emotionally unavailable parents—can be just as damaging.
“There’s a lot that happens as a child that we don’t know how to process,” Carolina said. “When the kid feels like, ‘I can’t be mad at my parents,’ they direct that anger toward themselves. The inner critic grows from there.”
This kind of trauma isn’t about one dramatic event. It’s about chronic emotional invalidation, where a child’s feelings, thoughts, or needs are dismissed. Over time, that child learns to mistrust themselves, internalizing blame to preserve their connection with caregivers.
2. The Scapegoat and the Seed of Shame
Bracco shared that she was scapegoated as a child—blamed for family problems and burdened with others’ emotions.
“I was criticized non-stop, hit, and made to feel like I was the problem,” she recalled. “They mirrored their projections onto me.”
Being scapegoated teaches children that love and acceptance are conditional. This belief breeds toxic shame—a painful conviction that “something is wrong with me.”
In adulthood, this shame may manifest as:
Constant self-doubt
People-pleasing behaviors
Fear of failure or rejection
Depression and self-criticism
The inner dialogue becomes harsh and unforgiving, echoing parental voices that once judged or dismissed the child.
3. The Inner Critic: When a Parent’s Voice Becomes Your Own
The inner critic often develops as a survival mechanism. When expressing anger or sadness wasn’t safe, that energy turned inward. Children learned, “If I’m the problem, at least I have control.”
But as adults, that same critic becomes an unrelenting internal bully.
“That inner voice tells me, ‘You’re worthless, you can’t do anything right,’” Carolina said. “My adult self has to constantly remind that inner child that it’s not true. It’s ongoing work.”
Learning to reparent the inner child means recognizing that voice and gently challenging it. It’s a process of learning to speak to yourself with compassion, patience, and truth.
4. Why It Was Safer to Blame Yourself Than Your Parents
Children depend on parents for safety and survival. For that reason, anger toward a caregiver can feel life-threatening.
As Bracco explained:
“It’s easier to be angry at yourself than at the people you love.”
That statement captures why many survivors of childhood trauma struggle to set boundaries or express anger even decades later.
The child’s mind reasons:
“If I’m bad, maybe I can fix it.”
“If I’m the problem, I can earn their love.”
“If I blame them, I could lose them.”
These early coping mechanisms may have protected the child then—but they become barriers to healing in adulthood.
5. Highly Critical Parents: A Hidden Source of Emotional Abuse
While physical or verbal abuse is more recognizable, chronic criticism can be just as corrosive.
Bracco defined highly critical parents as those who constantly find fault—never offering praise or unconditional love.
“Every day, there’s something wrong,” she said. “The appearance is never good, the grades aren’t good, the behavior isn’t right. You start to believe, ‘I’m the problem.’”
Over time, this dynamic can lead to:
Low self-esteem
Perfectionism
Anxiety and depression
Emotional numbness or disconnection
When every action is judged, children learn that love must be earned—not freely given.
6. The Link Between Toxic Shame and Depression
Terry McGuire, who has lived with depression herself, made a poignant observation during the interview:
“My depression tells me, ‘I’m not enough. I am worthless. Maybe not worth existing.’ It’s the same language you used.”
Bracco agreed. The voice of depression often mirrors the voice of childhood criticism.
That’s why many people experiencing depression don’t realize they’re also grieving unmet childhood needs—for validation, safety, and love. Recognizing this link can be life-changing.
When individuals trace those internal messages back to their origins, they can begin to say: “That voice isn’t mine. It’s something I learned—and I can unlearn it.”
7. Reparenting the Inner Child: A Path Toward Healing
So how do we replace that cruel inner voice with a compassionate one? Bracco suggests beginning with simple, somatic practices.
“Put a hand on your heart or your stomach,” she explained. “Say to that inner child, ‘I see you. I hear you. You’re safe now. You’re not alone.’”
This process, called reparenting, is about becoming the nurturing, steady adult you needed as a child.
Ways to reparent yourself:
Acknowledge your emotions instead of suppressing them
Soothe yourself through grounding exercises or gentle touch
Affirm your worth with phrases like “I’m safe now” or “It wasn’t my fault”
Set boundaries that protect your peace
Reparenting doesn’t erase pain—it teaches you how to hold it with love instead of judgment.
8. Emotionally Immature Parents: The Silent Wound
Bracco described emotionally immature parents as those who lack empathy, self-awareness, or the capacity to model healthy relationships.
“They can’t repair relationships or take accountability,” she said. “You as the child feel like the parent.”
This role reversal—called parentification—forces children to suppress their own needs to care for an unstable parent.
The long-term effects include:
Chronic loneliness
Disconnection from self and others
Difficulty trusting
Feeling unworthy of care
When a parent refuses to apologize, repair, or grow, the child learns that love equals self-abandonment. Healing means reversing that message—learning that your needs matter and your feelings are valid.
9. Breaking the Cycle: Becoming the “Good Enough” Parent
Both Bracco and co-host Carly McCollow emphasized that healing doesn’t end with personal growth—it extends into how we parent and relate to others.
Carly reflected on the compassion at the heart of this discussion, saying that emotionally immature parents often did the best they could with the tools they had. But as adults, it’s our responsibility to do better.
“Perfect parents don’t exist,” she said. “But we can all become good enough parents.”
That means:
Taking accountability when we cause harm
Repairing relationships rather than avoiding discomfort
Doing the work—through therapy, reflection, and honest communication
Modeling emotional safety for the next generation
Bracco reinforced this idea:
“When you attend to your inner child, you learn how to attend to your own kids. You know that frozen state, that sadness—and you show them something different.”
Healing childhood trauma is both individual and generational. When one person chooses awareness, it ripples outward.
10. Practical Strategies for Healing from Childhood Trauma
The episode concluded with a reflection from Dr. Lindsay Gibson’s book Recovering from Emotionally Immature Parents, offering two affirmations for survivors to carry with them:
“I am just as important as they are.” This helps reclaim equality in relationships that once felt one-sided.
“I have good stuff inside me.” This rebuilds self-worth that was eroded by years of criticism.
Carly explained that repeating these phrases during or after triggering interactions helps calm the inner child who still longs to be seen and accepted.
Additional healing strategies include:
Therapy with a trauma-informed professional
Writing letters (not necessarily sent) to express suppressed emotions
Journaling about your inner child’s experiences and needs
Connecting with supportive communities that validate your story
Practicing mindfulness to observe your inner critic without judgment
Each small act of self-acceptance challenges the old programming that said you were too much, not enough, or unworthy of love.
11. The Journey Toward Wholeness
Healing from childhood trauma is not linear, nor is it about assigning blame. As Carly reminded listeners, the goal is understanding—recognizing both the harm done and the humanity behind it.
When we move from self-blame to self-compassion, we begin to reclaim our sense of agency, safety, and belonging.
This process doesn’t rewrite the past, but it reshapes the future—one where love, honesty, and self-trust finally replace fear and shame.
“We can’t change our parents,” Carolina said, “but we can change how we relate to the voices they left inside us.”
12. Key Takeaways
To reinforce the lessons from this conversation, here are some of the most impactful insights shared in the episode:
Childhood trauma isn’t always visible. Emotional neglect, chronic criticism, and lack of repair can be as damaging as physical harm.
The inner critic often mimics a parent’s voice. Recognizing it is the first step toward healing.
Reparenting is a daily practice. Compassionate self-talk, boundaries, and emotional validation help retrain the nervous system.
Healing requires accountability. Both in ourselves and in how we show up for others.
You can break the cycle. By learning emotional regulation and modeling empathy, you create a healthier pattern for future generations.
Self-worth is innate—not earned. You don’t have to prove your value through perfection, productivity, or compliance.
Community matters. Healing accelerates when we share our stories and feel less alone.
These reminders reflect the essence of what Giving Voice to Depression offers: a safe place to hear truth, find connection, and rediscover hope.
13. Final Thoughts
This episode is a tender invitation to look inward—not with blame, but with curiosity and care. It asks listeners to honor the child who learned to survive by shrinking, pleasing, or self-blaming—and to now offer that child something radically different: love without conditions.
Bracco’s message is ultimately one of hope. Healing from childhood trauma takes time, courage, and compassion, but it is possible. Every small act of awareness—every moment of self-kindness—plants a seed for a more grounded, peaceful, and authentic life.
For those beginning this journey, remember: You are not broken. You are becoming whole.
Addiction is often portrayed in media as a visibly destructive force, leading to immediate chaos and collapse. But for countless individuals and families, the reality is far more subtle, insidious, and heartbreaking. The life of a “high-functioning addict” can exist in a parallel world: one where they successfully run a business, raise a family, and maintain sobriety for years, all while wrestling in private with a relentless, life-threatening disease.
This devastating duality is at the core of the story shared by Adriana Sansam on the Recoverycast podcast. In 2023, she lost her 30-year-old husband, Eric, a devoted father and business owner, to an accidental overdose. Her journey through love, addiction, resilience, and agonizing grief reveals the urgent need to dismantle the stigma surrounding substance use disorder and to understand the immense pressure and isolation felt by both the person struggling and their closest loved ones.
1. The Love Story and the Unexpected Revelation
The beginning of Adriana and Eric’s relationship was a whirlwind of connection and certainty. They met as neighbors, and for Adriana, the attraction and sense of future were immediate. “We just knew,” she said. “When you know, you know.” Their life together moved fast, anchored by a deep mutual affection.
However, the foundation of their relationship was built before Adriana fully understood the hidden chapters of Eric’s past. As she recounted, her initial exposure to hard drugs and addiction was minimal, leading to a naive, movie-like perception of what an “addict” looked like. This perception was shattered one day while innocently rummaging through a desk with Eric.
The discovery of a needle in an old instrument case prompted a serious discussion that would forever change her life. Eric confessed: he was a recovering heroin addict. Adriana’s first reaction was to laugh—she genuinely thought he was joking, as it seemed so incongruous with the man she knew. Eric, however, was serious, explaining he had been in recovery for a year or two. He had already completed treatment and was sober, making the reality feel distant and manageable at first.
The early years of their relationship, while happy, were also a period of “white-knuckling sobriety” for Eric. He continued to drink heavily, a factor Adriana later realized was a significant, unaddressed trigger. For a recovering addict, alcohol can lower inhibitions and judgment, making the decision to use the original drug of choice feel less consequential. A powerful moment highlighted this danger: after a night of heavy drinking, Eric once turned to her and said, “I’m craving. I need to go home because I’m craving drugs. And don’t let me leave.” This was a terrifying first look at the relentless struggle beneath the surface of his successful facade.
To truly understand Eric’s addiction, one must look into the deep-seated pain and trauma that fueled his struggle. Addiction is rarely about a simple lack of willpower; it’s often a complex response to unresolved psychological and emotional distress. As Adriana explains, Eric was a loving, empathetic person who felt things deeply—a common trait among those who grapple with internal demons.
Eric’s childhood was marked by immense loss and harmful influences. His father died the day before his fifth birthday, leaving a gaping wound. Compounding this, he endured a troubled relationship with a stepfather who was also an addict and who, tragically, introduced Eric to substance use. This environment of early trauma and exposure set a dangerous stage for his future.
The four and a half years of initial sobriety were a testament to Eric’s strength, but the underlying issues were never fully silenced. The relapse came in 2020, during the unique stress landscape of the COVID-19 pandemic. This period brought a convergence of stressors that can be exacerbating factors for addiction, including:
Financial Pressure: Eric owned and operated a moving company, which was severely impacted by COVID-related lockdowns and restrictions. He felt the intense pressure of being the sole provider for his growing family.
Mental Health Struggles: The pandemic was a global mental health crisis. For Eric, the isolation, uncertainty, and disruption to routines were a perfect storm.
Family Stress: Adriana was battling severe postpartum depression following the birth of their first daughter and was pregnant with their second child. This stress, while shared, weighed heavily on Eric, contributing to his feelings of inadequacy and failure.
This perfect storm culminated in Eric’s relapse while Adriana was away. The disease, which had been dormant, reasserted its presence, preying on his mental and emotional vulnerabilities.
3. Recognizing the Mask: Signs of a High-Functioning Addict
When Adriana returned from her trip, she noticed subtle differences in Eric’s behavior, though she didn’t connect them to drug use initially. The relapse of a high-functioning addict is often not signaled by a sudden dramatic breakdown, but by small, almost imperceptible shifts. Eventually, Adriana discovered heroin in his car—a devastating find that Eric initially tried to deny, but confessed to upon seeing her attempt to dispose of it.
For loved ones of high-functioning individuals, recognizing the signs can be incredibly difficult because the core responsibilities of life are still being met. Eric successfully hid his addiction from even his closest family members, including Adriana’s parents, whom he lived with for a year and a half.
Tell-Tale Signs of Hidden Addiction:
Excessive Time Away from Home: Eric’s work trips became longer, and he invented reasons to be out for extended periods. This distance provided an opportunity to use away from his family.
Increased Frequency of Normal Trips: Eric became “a gas station guy,” multiplying his short trips out. Adriana later realized this was a cover for when he would go get high.
Sudden “Sweetness” or Over-Compensation: Eric began offering to go out and get Adriana her favorite coffee, a gesture that seemed loving but was actually a mechanism to get her to let him leave the house. “I didn’t catch on until later is, oh, you wanna get me a coffee so you can go get high?”
Emotional Withdrawal and Embarrassment: He would isolate himself while using, often going to work to get high. As Adriana noted, this was out of embarrassment—an attempt to shield his family from witnessing his struggle.
This ability to manage a business and maintain the facade of a “really good husband, really good father” is what makes high-functioning addiction so frighteningly dangerous. It allows the disease to progress out of sight until it’s too late.
4. The Unconventional Path to Support: ‘I’m Not Against You’
When faced with Eric’s relapse, Adriana’s initial reaction was pain and confusion: “Why are you doing this to me? Why do you hate me?” This mindset is common for partners, stemming from the deeply ingrained belief that love should be enough to overcome the addiction.
However, as she researched and talked openly with Eric, her perspective shifted from one of personal offense to one of team-based support. Eric played a crucial role in this transition, helping her understand that his actions were not a malicious choice against her, but a symptom of his disease.
The shift in their approach was profound:
Disappointment vs. Abandonment: Adriana learned to separate her disappointment in the relapse from her commitment to Eric. She was honest about her anger but firm in her stance: “I am on your team.”
The Power of Staying: Eric often told Adriana to leave him, believing she deserved better, but she consistently refused. Her unwavering presence became a lifeline. Addiction often pushes people away out of shame and a desire to protect loved ones from the inevitable pain. Her refusal to be pushed away countered his deep-seated trauma.
The Desire for Help: Unlike many who fight the idea of sobriety, Eric always wanted to be clean. He would often call Adriana in distress immediately after using, begging her to come home and throw away his stash for him because he lacked the willpower to do it himself. This shows the addict’s true desire fighting against the compulsion of the disease.
Adriana’s “crazy” actions—the constant checking, location sharing, and accountability—were born out of love and fear, not malice. They were a form of survival. Eric himself later validated her vigilance: “If you weren’t as crazy as you were, I would’ve been dead a very long time ago.”
This validation was essential, highlighting that for a high-functioning addict, extreme accountability from a loved one can sometimes be the only thing keeping them tethered to life.
5. The Isolation of Shame and Stigma
Perhaps the most tragic aspect of their journey was the profound isolation Adriana endured. For years, she kept Eric’s addiction a complete secret from her family, friends, and community. This silence was driven by Eric’s fear of judgment and the pervasive stigma attached to substance use disorder.
This wall of secrecy forced Adriana into “survival mode,” making her feel like a “crazy wife” to the outside world because they couldn’t see the real threat she was fighting. The emotional burden of monitoring, fearing, and keeping silent while living with two small children took a severe toll on her mental health.
The silence broke devastatingly on the day Eric died. In her frantic call to the hotel, yelling that her husband was an addict and needed help, her parents finally heard the truth. This moment underscores a horrifying reality: stigma kills. The fear of being judged prevented Eric from seeking consistent, community-based support, and it prevented Adriana from accessing her own support network, such as Al-Anon, which provides crucial resources for the family members of addicts.
6. The Inevitable Tragedy and the Ongoing Fight Against Stigma
Eric’s death occurred on a work trip in March 2023. Though he was not in a period of active, sustained addiction at the time—Adriana had been drug-testing him and could tell by his behavior—the nature of his death pointed back to the disease. For Eric, the work trips were a time away from accountability, and tragically, a moment of isolation was a moment of vulnerability.
His death revealed a further layer of societal judgment. When Adriana shares how her husband died, she is often met with instant judgment from those who view addiction through the narrow, stereotyped lens of popular culture. They cannot reconcile the image of a loving father and successful businessman with an accidental overdose.
This experience highlights the critical need to view addiction as a chronic disease, not a moral failing. The countless thousands of accidental overdoses are not happening to “nobodies”—they are happening to people like Eric: neighbors, fathers, business owners, and loving partners. This is why conversations like Adriana’s are vital. They humanize the disease and fight the pervasive stigma that keeps people silent and isolated, often with fatal consequences.
7. Finding Hope and Voice: Moving Just for Today
Adriana’s resilience in the face of this incomprehensible loss is a testament to her strength. She now channels her experience into her podcast, Just for Today, a phrase she found in Eric’s recovery journal. It is a philosophy that embraces the idea of coping with the immense weight of grief and the past by focusing only on the present moment.
For those struggling with addiction or supporting a loved one, Adriana’s story offers crucial lessons:
Acknowledge the Disease: Recognize that addiction is a chronic, relapsing disease, not a lack of love or moral character. This shift in perspective is the first step toward effective support and reducing your own feelings of disappointment or guilt.
Seek Your Own Support: Family and friends need support just as much as the person using. Organizations like Al-Anon or individual therapy can help loved ones process their grief, fear, and anger. Resources for families can be found at Recovery.com’s resource center.
Embrace Accountability (With Love): For high-functioning individuals, a strong support system that provides consistent, non-judgmental accountability can be life-saving.
Talk About It: Break the cycle of secrecy. Sharing Eric’s story is Adriana’s way of ensuring his life—and his struggle—serves a greater purpose: saving others by normalizing the conversation.
Eric’s life, filled with love, success, and profound internal pain, is a powerful reminder that addiction wears many masks. By confronting the stigma head-on and understanding the complex reality of the high-functioning addict, we can better support those who are struggling just for today and perhaps prevent future tragedies.
