Breaking the Cycle

As I look back over my life, it feels like watching a movie—one that I never wanted to replay. Scene by scene, I relive memories that I’d rather forget.

At first, the discomfort is overwhelming. But then, I remind myself:

•  I am here for me.
•  I am stronger now.
•  I am my own protector.

A tear runs down my cheek. But as I sit taller, the uneasy feeling starts to fade.

I grew up in a modest home with modest parents.  

We didn’t have luxury, but our physical needs were met. My father worked while my mother stayed home to care for me and my older sister. We took family vacations.

But behind that picture of normalcy, I was a child filled with anxiety and fear.

It was so intense that my father told my mother to pull me out of school. My sister was being bullied, so my mother homeschooled both of us. She tried her best—filling our days with activities, making sure we were well-socialized.

But no matter what she did, social situations terrified me.

The fear never left me. I was afraid all the time. 

Only now, as an adult, do I recognize what I couldn’t understand as a child:

My mother suffered from severe depression.

She always seemed happy, but I don’t think she knew how to make herself happy. I don’t remember a single time when she put herself first.

She took care of everyone—me, my sister, her sisters. Especially her youngest sister, who was once institutionalized for mental illness. 

Looking back, I see it clearly: They all suffered from PTSD.

My father was always working. Overtime. Late nights. He was a kind man, but I don’t remember him ever telling us he loved us. I believe he did, but his emotions were unpredictable.

When he was happy, I felt happy. When he was loving, I felt loved. But when he was angry—I was terrified.

As a child, I never knew what would set him off.

I don’t remember the specifics, but I know this: I walked on eggshells.

He was critical of my mother. He yelled—often. His word was law. If we didn’t agree with him, it was as if we had betrayed him.

I didn’t want to betray my father. So I did what I was told.

And my mother? She never stood up for herself. She never told us that his behavior was not okay.

I can only assume that, in the 70s and 80s, women believed they had to put up with it, that maintaining the appearance of a happy family was more important than actually being one.

I was just a child then, but I see it now.

I was raised to serve men.

My (not biological) grandmother doted on the men in our family. She taught me that women were meant to serve them.

So it’s no surprise that I found myself in relationship after relationship with men who:

•  Betrayed me
•  Disrespected me
•  Verbally abused me
•  Made me believe I was the cause of their behavior

By 2019, I was 13 years into my second marriage.

I had one child from my first marriage, and two from my current one.... And I was miserable.

I had spent more than a decade walking on eggshells, trying everything to make our marriage work.

•  I read self-help books.
•  I tried Al-Anon and Nar-Anon.
•  I bent over backward to keep the peace.

And yet, nothing changed.

I shielded my children as much as I could, but inside, I felt helpless and hopeless.

And it wasn’t just my marriage—my entire life felt exhausting.

•  Family relationships drained me.
•  Friendships left me depleted.
•  I was constantly trying to “keep the peace” while I was in turmoil.

This was my mental state when I first heard about ARCS.

A friend told me about a life coaching certification she was taking and how much she loved it.

At first, I dismissed it.

"This isn’t for me. I’m not a life coach. I don’t even have my own life together—how could I help others?"

But then, I started listening.

She wasn’t just talking about coaching, she was talking about healing. She was describing addiction recovery, not just from substances—but from patterns and pain.

And suddenly, I was intrigued.

She told me I could listen to a class to see if I liked it. I was hesitant, but I did. And what I found changed everything.

In my first class, I met women who had been through everything.

They had walked through trauma, heartbreak, and pain. And yet, they had found contentment. They had found peace.

And I wanted that.

So even though I wasn’t sure, I signed up—And it was one of the best decisions of my life.

I’ve been in the ARCS program for 18 months now, and I have become the person I always wanted to be.

For the first time, I have answers to the questions I’ve asked my entire life:

•  Why do people treat me this way?
•  Why don’t they like me?
•  What can I do to make this better?
•  Why don’t I know what I like?

And for the first time, I can say:

❤️ I am confident.
❤️ I am not alone.
❤️ I am not afraid of the future.
❤️ I am at peace.

And most importantly:

❤️ I LOVE who I am.