Some of the ways I used to cope were brilliant. Not healthy, but brilliant.

When I was in the thick of addiction, or later trying to survive betrayal trauma, my brain didn’t care about long-term consequences. It just wanted me to make it through the day. And I did a great job of it, but I was stuck in the same emotional place without realizing it.

I learned to numb with busyness. First, by getting into relationships with people and trying to fix them. Then, by trying to control everything around me, including those I loved. My way of trying to calm the chaos that constantly lived inside my brain.

I avoided uncomfortable truths with humor. I controlled what I could and avoided what I couldn’t. In the moments when I felt truly powerless, I shut down emotionally. I locked my scary memories behind an imaginary door in my mind. It was a survival skill that worked like an invisibility cloak… until it didn’t.

Those strategies saved me back then. But here’s the thing: what saves us in one season can quietly sabotage us in the next.

Ever found yourself completely overwhelmed by something that, logically, shouldn’t have hit so hard?

Maybe someone used a particular tone of voice, and you felt like running. Or a smell brought back a memory so fast it knocked the air out of your lungs. Maybe your partner was five minutes late, and your whole body tensed and shut down. Or perhaps it was seeing a family picture go across your screen that made your heart jump into your throat.

That’s not “overreacting.”

That’s your nervous system reacting to something it’s seen or felt before.

If your inner critic had a voice, what would it sound like?

Maybe it’s sharp and sarcastic. Maybe it mimics someone from your past. Or perhaps it just lurks quietly under the surface, whispering cruel things like, “You’re not worthy of love,” or, “You’re not strong enough to get through this.”

Most of us don’t wake up one day and suddenly decide to be hateful to ourselves. Those scripts, the automatic negative thoughts (ANTs), usually stem from something. And guess what? It’s not something we did or didn’t do.

Are you someone who enjoys staying busy? Me too. I thought that since I was busy, I was in a healthy recovery and my healing journey was in great shape. But, of course, I was mistaken.

I was using productive numbing because I was still white knuckling my recovery. What looked like self-improvement to me was actually an unhealthy coping strategy.

That’s what I’m talking about today, the ways we cope that feel healthy, but might be hiding something deeper.

The Real Roots of Emotional Discomfort (and How They Get Wired Into Our Bodies)

Have you ever smelled someone’s cologne and it reminded you of your best friend from high school? Or heard the first few seconds of a song, and were instantly brought back to that moment you were driving down the road, wind blowing through your hair, not a care in the world? Me too. I love those comforting memories. They’re like warm mental hugs.

After disclosure, the same thing happened when I saw certain pictures pop-up on our digital picture frame (remember those?) or when I drove past a certain place. Except it wasn’t a warm, fuzzy feeling I was experiencing. It was cold daggers stabbing into my heart and brain. All in a matter of moments.

I’m unpacking more of that (the complex, deep parts) over on Substack if you want to join me there.

When I was little, I remember playing with Barbie, Ken, Growing Up Skipper, and Jody dolls (anyone else remember Jody?). I dreamt of becoming a veterinarian. Not becoming addicted to cocaine and living in a trap house or going through disclosure from my husband’s addiction.

I’m guessing many of you reading can relate. Addiction takes our dreams and tries to rewrite them.

The good news is, we can take our lives back. We can recover and we can heal.
But to do that, we have to understand how we got here in the first place.

I don’t know about you, but I loved when something in my addiction recovery or my betrayal trauma recovery had an action step attached to it. It made me feel like I was actually doing something. Like I was in control (and you already know how much I loved my control back then).

Then, my dear Bookenders, I found out that recovery and healing needs us to do something I found extremely challenging.

It asks us to pause.

I know, I know! Pausing sounds simple, but in the middle of a craving, a spiral, or a moment when you’re two seconds away from unhealthier behaviors, pausing feels almost impossible. That’s why I created two tools you can tuck in your back pocket. Literally. Just write these down or print them out.: