Scribed In Light

And How Breaking the Cycle Makes Us the Shelter We Once Prayed For

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I used to think I was just unlucky in love… or maybe just too angry to settle down.
I told myself my past — the abuse, the chaos, the betrayal — was just something I was mad about and trying to outrun.
But the truth is, I was caught in the perfect storm — a mix of unhealed trauma, a brain wired for chaos, and people who knew exactly how to take advantage of both.

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The Weather Fronts: How the Storm Forms

For me, it started in childhood. Abuse shapes you in ways you don’t even notice at first. It teaches your nervous system to normalize dysfunction.
You learn to expect pain. You learn to live in high alert. You learn that chaos is normal…and you carry that wiring into adulthood — into friendships, jobs, relationships.

Then came my marriage to men who mirrored the very storm I had grown up in.
That cycle felt normal to me. Predictable pain was safer than the unknown.

The anger from my past fueled rebellion. And rebellion? It has a way of leading you right back into danger.

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The Pull of the Tide: Why the Wrong Feels Right

Here’s the confusing part — sometimes I found good men. Gentle, patient, loving men, yet I broke it off with them and went back to bad guys.
It made no sense… until I realized I wasn’t chasing love.
I was chasing familiar love — the kind I had bonded to in trauma.

Healthy love felt foreign, almost uncomfortable.
Toxic love felt like home — and I didn’t know yet that “home” could be safe.

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The Predators in the Water

Abusers can sense when someone has lived in storms. They can spot the softer boundaries, the tolerance for mistreatment, the way you’re willing to give the benefit of the doubt over and over.
It doesn’t mean you’re weak — it means you were trained to survive what you should never have had to.

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The Break in the Clouds: My Awakening

My awakening didn’t come because I finally got tired of hurting.
It came because my children were watching…experiencing it themselves…and hurting.
I saw pieces of my own story starting to echo in theirs, and it stopped me cold. That was my trigger — my moment. I couldn’t let them inherit the same storm I had been raised in. Now don’t misunderstand. It didn’t happen overnight. Man did it take time to build courage. It took time to build my awakening and strength to rise. I had no support system. I kept such a tight lock on everything that I recall the day an officer, who I worked side by side with on calls, asked me why I never shared what was going on. He thought I lived the dream…the perfect life. I asked him WHEN…when would that have been convenient? While I was in the middle of extricating a victim? when assessing a car accident? When? His eyes widened in understanding and he hugged me. I get so discouraged by outsiders who question why they stayed…suggesting at times, “they must have liked it”. The truth is…if you haven’t lived it, you will never fully understand the storm and layers of trauma bonding they live in.

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The Calm After the Storm

Then…after my second divorce and with 3 children still at home… I met Alan.
The most patient, loving, stable man I have ever known. At first, it felt strange — almost too calm, too kind —and I questioned it because my nervous system wasn’t used to safety. But over time, I learned that this was what love was supposed to feel like. Not unpredictable. Not conditional. Not manipulative. Just steady, gentle, and real.

As time passed…years actually…I began to realize that breaking the cycle didn’t just heal me — it healed my children in ways I never could have imagined.
I’ll never forget when my daughters quietly told me they were looking for husbands like Alan. That’s when I knew the cycle was truly broken. Oh, the peace that settled deep knowing that.

And today?
Each one of our children have chosen mates with Alans integrity and honor — steady, gentle, kind, patient, unconditional acceptance and pure love. Things I did not believe truly existed. I praise God they got that role model in their lives.
That’s how I know the storm ended with me and I will never sail back into it. Breaking the cycle has healed generations after me…and I praise God for that gift.

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the lighthouse on shore…how to truly help without making things escalate

When you’re watching someone you love caught in the storm, the instinct is to pull them out right now. If you yank too hard, they can retreat deeper into the storm. I know, because it happened to me. Well-meaning family and friends tried to rescue me in ways that made my abuser tighten control. It even worsened for my children and caused my fear to grow.

If you really want to help:

1. Be a steady safe place, not a judge’s bench.
   • Let them know you believe them, you see them, and you are there for them. Don’t give ultimatums. Judgment drives victims back to what they know. Be prepared that you will now be viewed as a threat by the aggressor, and most likely they will try to undermine you to the victim as well as the community. It happened to the rare few who witness and attempted to help me, and my children. Our integrity was ruined and dragged through the mud by our aggressor. Not just mine, but our children’s and the ones who tried to assist us…all in the name of protecting his image to the public. I often stayed to protect them from his rage.
2. Ask before you act.
   • It’s tempting to swoop in…instinctive even, but what feels safe to you may put them in further danger. They may even retreat from you for your protection. Instead, ask them, “What would feel helpful for you right now?”
3. Avoid blame.
   • Saying, “Why do you stay?” or “You must like it if you keep going back” isn’t helpful. It’s cruel. Trauma bonds are chains, not choices.
4. Slip them tools, not orders.
   • Share resources – domestic hotlines, safe housing contacts, therapy options – quietly and without pressure. You’re leaving breadcrumbs they can follow when ready, and able. This is what helped me…and through an outside resource I was profiled as having every single box checked for life risk…and my children’s too. That woke me up. I made them redo the questions over and over in disbelief. That very day I asked for help because of my fear for my children’s lives of his volatile emotional state.
5. Celebrate small cracks in the wall.
   • Leaving is rarely one big exit – it’s tiny moments of realization. Recognize and encourage those moments without forcing the next step.

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If you’re in the storm yourself

If this is your reality right now, here’s the first step: Tell someone safe. Not the loudest person you know, not the person who will ” go confront them” – someone who will hold your story with care and help you plan quietly.

Remember too that you are not crazy, . You are not weak. You are not alone. You are surviving in the only way you’ve been trained to survive. But survival is not the same as living…and you deserve to live.

Once you break free from the toxicity and chaos…NEVER allow yourself to sail back into it again.

Please know that I empathize how loud the wind can get, and how convincing the waves can be when they tell you it’s safer to stay where you are. It is not. Trust my experience and hindsight. Even if you take just one small step toward safety today, that step matters. You are worth calm waters. There is a rainbow waiting for you.

To those standing on the shore observing from afar…PLEASE, do not shout commands at the drowning. Throw a lifeline instead. Offer a steady hand, a safe haven, and patient love. Don’t ask why they stayed…ask how you can help them leave without fear. Don’t judge the mess they’re in…be the shelter that welcomes them out of it.

‘You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.’ –Bob Marley

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it,” –Nelson Mandela

“be the lighthouse in someone’s storms.” –Anonymous

In loving grace, and hope,

T.N. Campbell | Scribed In Light