From Numbness to Renewal: Finding Hope Beyond the Pain

In my last post, I shared about my experience as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse—and the long, winding road toward healing. What I didn’t fully understand for many years, however, was how that early trauma would shape my relationship with myself, others, and even with substances. For much of my adult life, I was trying to escape the pain that lived beneath the surface—the shame, the confusion, the relentless sense of not being enough. And like many survivors, I discovered that drugs and alcohol offered a temporary way out.

What began as a way to “take the edge off” became something far deeper—a way to silence the echoes of the past. There were times when the pain felt unbearable, and I didn’t know how to keep going. I struggled with suicidal thoughts throughout my life, believing that maybe there was no way out of the darkness. But I’ve learned that suicide is not the answer. Healing—though slow, imperfect, and at times excruciating—is possible.

The Hidden Link: Trauma, ACEs, and Addiction

In recent decades, the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) Study has helped us understand just how deeply early trauma impacts our health and emotional well-being. ACEs include experiences like abuse, neglect, or growing up in a household affected by substance use, divorce, mental illness, or domestic violence. Each ACE adds to what researchers call a “toxic stress load”—a weight the body and mind continue to carry long after childhood. The higher the ACE score, the greater the risk for physical illness, depression, anxiety, and addiction later in life. When I first learned about ACEs, it was like seeing my story through a new lens. It wasn’t that I was weak or flawed—it was that my nervous system had adapted to survive. Substances became a form of self-protection, a way to manage a lifetime of unspoken pain. Addiction, in that sense, wasn’t my problem. It was my solution—until it stopped working.

The Turning Point

There came a moment in December 2012, when the pain of staying the same became greater than the fear of change. Recovery, for me, wasn’t about willpower—it was about finally facing what I’d been running from. It required me to look at the root of my pain, not just the symptoms. When I first walked into an Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meeting, I didn’t know what to expect. I was scared, skeptical, and unsure if I belonged there. But what I found was a room full of people who understood. There was no judgment—only honesty, humility, and hope. AA became more than a meeting place. It became a lifeline.

In 2017, I began working with Dr. Allen Berger, a therapist whose insight and guidance were essential to my recovery and emotional sobriety. Dr. Berger helped me understand the emotional and psychological layers of addiction—how my early trauma had shaped my coping mechanisms and sense of self. Through his support, I learned to integrate the principles of the Twelve Steps with deeper therapeutic work, combining recovery and personal growth in ways that changed my life.

Together, AA and therapy gave me what neither could provide alone: community, accountability, and the tools to heal both my behaviors and the wounds beneath them.

Healing in Layers

Recovery didn’t happen overnight. It’s been a process of unlearning shame, rebuilding trust, and discovering healthier ways to cope. Healing from trauma and healing from addiction are deeply intertwined. Both require compassion, patience, and community. Both invite us to reconnect—with our bodies, our feelings, and with others who understand.

Rewiring the Nervous System

One of the most hopeful things about the research on ACEs is this: healing is absolutely possible. The brain and body can rewire through therapy, mindfulness, movement, and healthy relationships. Every moment of self-compassion, every time we choose connection over isolation, we’re creating new neural pathways that promote safety and resilience.

This is what recovery looks like—not erasing the past, but learning to live in the present without being ruled by it.

A New Way of Living

Today, my life is guided not by avoidance, but by presence. I’ve learned to find comfort in healthy routines—therapy, movement, mindfulness, and the continued support of recovery meetings. These practices remind me that peace doesn’t come from numbing out, but from learning to stay with myself, even when it hurts.

As a therapist, I now sit with others who carry similar wounds—people who’ve used substances to survive trauma, just as I once did. I see their courage every day. I know recovery is possible because I’ve lived it.

A Message for Survivors in Recovery

If you’ve struggled with addiction and you’re a survivor of trauma, please know this: You are not broken. You were doing the best you could with the tools you had. Recovery isn’t about perfection—it’s about learning to live honestly, gently, and with compassion for yourself.

Healing from trauma and addiction is not the end of your story—it’s the beginning of reclaiming your life.

Walking Toward Wholeness

Every day, I am reminded that what once felt like a life defined by pain has become a life defined by purpose. Healing is possible. Recovery is real. And freedom—true, lasting freedom—begins when we stop running from our story and start rewriting it.

Walk tall,

Chris

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, you don’t have to face it alone. Call or text 988 to connect with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. Compassionate help is available 24/7.