“Until you become aware of the unconscious, it will rule your life and you will call it destiny.” ~CG Jung
For twelve years I thought I was the architect of the perfect life. I had a “Summa Cum Laude” degree, a respected career in human services, a devoted husband, and two healthy daughters. I ticked all the boxes on the “Success” list. I really thought I was over my past.
But trauma has a way of waiting. It doesn’t disappear just because you stop watching. It simply goes underground, like a silent program that runs in the background of your computer, waiting for the right button to be pressed.
I ran away from a ten-year-old when I was twenty-one, on/off toxic relationship which consumed my entire adolescence. I didn’t have “narcissistic abuse” or “gaslighting” in me back then. I just thought he was someone who couldn’t get his act together. He went to prison and I moved on; I built a life fortress.
Then twelve years later I stumbled upon it. Let’s call him X.
The return of the familiar
It wasn’t a calculated move. It was an extreme chance encounter that felt like a lightning strike. Within weeks, the fortress I had spent over a decade building began to crumble.
I did the unthinkable: I separated from my family. I shattered the peace I had kept to return to the man who nearly destroyed me as a little girl.
From the outside it looked like madness; he felt an irresistible pull from within. It was a biological “homecoming” to my nervous system that I never really healed; I just suppressed it. My mind and body were magnetized to familiar trauma disguised as ‘true love’ and ‘happiness’.
Within a month, X’s mask slipped. The same jealousies, the same mind games and the same chilling gaslighting returned. But this time I was different.
I was an adult. I was a mother. It was then that I finished my Masters and studied abusive relationships and spent years in the human service profession.
And suddenly the epiphany came.
The holes in the wall
I remember standing in a cramped, crappy apartment—the one I moved into just to be with X. I didn’t DIY a dream home like I planned. I had a putty knife in my hand and was trying to patch up the holes in the drywall that X’s fists had pushed there.
As I applied the spackle to the wound, the absurdity of the moment hit me with the force of a tsunami. Here I was, a consummate professional, a woman teaching others about empowerment and boundaries, hiding the physical evidence of my own destruction. I was literally trying to cover up the holes in my life, hoping that if I made the surface smooth enough, I wouldn’t have to face the rot underneath.
I realized that my entire “success story” over the past decade had been a variation of this jerk. I spent twelve years painting the “teenage self” with professional accolades and academic achievements. But because I hadn’t dealt with the original trauma of my youth, the foundation was still fragile.
At the first sign of heat—the first encounter with my past—those layers cracked.
That’s when I saw the “ghost in my system”. I wasn’t fighting the man in front of me; I struggled with a version that got stuck at twelve. At twenty-one, I had “moved on” but had not integrated the experience; I simply built a beautiful life on a broken foundation.
The Turning Point
I left that apartment. I went back to my family and did the tedious, messy work of repairing the damage I had caused. But this time the “work” was different.
I didn’t just heal from the mistakes of my thirties; Finally, I reached back to that twelve-year-old girl and said, “I see you now. We’re going to fix the foundation this time.” I had to learn the hard way that we often mistake a change of scenery for a change of soul.
We think that because we have houses, careers, and the “perfect” family, we have outgrown our struggles. But healing is not a matter of time; it’s a matter of awareness.
Lessons learned from the foundation
During this journey of losing and finding myself, I discovered three truths that changed the way I see personal growth:
1. Success is no substitute for stability.
You can be powerful, but still very vulnerable. Many of us use ‘doing’ to avoid ‘being’. My career success was my armor, but it didn’t make me immune to the old triggers.
2. You cannot fix what you have not defined.
I didn’t realize I survived the abuse for years. I thought I was just “strong”. I was only able to name the beast until I used my professional training to look objectively at my own life; but once you name it – gaslighting, narcissistic abusetrauma attachment – loses its power over you.
3. The “why” is in the roots.
I had to stop asking, “How could I be so stupid?” and begins to ask, “What did the twelve-year-old girl you’re still looking for need?” If we approach our mistakes with curiosity instead of contempt, we will find a road map to healing. Contempt keeps us in shame; curiosity leads us home.
The power of giving back
Through this experience, I realized that even though I was lucky enough to finally pick myself up, there are a lot of people left without a map in the dark. Not everyone is ready or able to access traditional therapy or support systems. These journeys can often seem expensive, time-consuming, or even scary when you’re already in a state of collapse.
Now I believe that one of the most powerful steps in our own healing is to share what we learn. Giving back isn’t just a kind gesture; it is a therapeutic need. When we turn our personal pain into a public resource for others, we end up robbing the pain of shaming us and turning our “devastation” into a “blueprint” that someone else can use to find their way home.
Practical steps to rebuild
If you’re currently in your own “broken apartment” and wondering how to start patching the holes, here’s what I’ve found to be most effective:
1. Examine your foundation.
Stop looking at the “new paint” of your current success and look at the original wood. Ask yourself: am I reacting to what is happening today or am I reacting to a ghost from my past?
2. Name the beast/spirit.
Don’t just say you’re “stressed”. Use specific language – be it gas lightingtrauma bandage or neural spiral. Once you name a pattern, you no longer have victims; you are an observer of it.
3. Find a way to serve.
Even if it’s just sharing a single truth with a friend or posting an honest thought online, helping someone else navigate their challenging circumstances often pulls us out of our own.
An ongoing commitment
If my own midlife crisis has taught me anything, it’s that recovery isn’t a goal you reach and stay there forever. It’s a commitment to examine your own foundation every single day. It’s about making sure the life you’re building is the life you really want to live in—not just one that looks good from the street.
While the devastations we face are often our greatest teachers, I hope that by sharing my story, I can help others leave the quagmire of confusion and emotional pain much sooner than I did.
About Stephanie Nelson, MA
Stephanie Nelson, MA, is a human services professional with over 20 years of experience. After nearly losing his “perfect” life to a ghost from his past, he founded it MySelfGrowthTools.com providing free, 24/7 accessible digital tools for those navigating recovery and self-growth. He lives for the “aha!” moments and help others rebuild their lives based on true confidence. Follow me on Instagram @én.my growth tools.
