She thought of a moth haphazardly and intensely bewitched by a flame. Why did these lethal dynamics feel compelling? The way she let men treat her, who she was magnetically drawn to and what she forgot and forgave seemed so uncharacteristic of her. She was alarmed at how unphased she was by emotional abuse. Was this resilience or weakness?

She wanted a love that consumed her. The electric touch that ignited sparks and gave you an intoxicating high that lingered on your skin. The remnants of this feeling is what motivated her to seek deep, passionate burning love, just like the one she once knew. What she failed to remember though was the unpredictable and possibly lethal destiny of a spark, the risk and insustainability of a fleeting flame and the hurt and destruction that a burn was capable of.

Many children who lived in [alcoholic] homes like this develop similar characteristics and behaviours. In 1978 a list was formulated called “The Laundry List” and was adopted as part of the Adult Children of Alcoholics World Service Organization.”

The narrator began to read out the list of characteristics and one by one I began to discover that what I thought was my inherent identity of a strong, responsible woman was only a facade.

I left my suite to take in the crisp, fall air and to embrace the time I had left to be comfortable outside before winter temperatures. The sidewalk was slightly damp and the air smelled of wet leaves and soil. A couple cozied arm and arm gave me a smile and a friendly nod as they passed me and I tried to give a believable, polite smile back. It is hard to feel optimism when everything around me is now dying. All the flowers and leaves spring birthed and summer nurtured were now shrivelling up and slowly decaying. Just like me.

I came to realize that I cocooned myself. I layered myself with a protective shield every time I was shamed, guilted, lied too, yelled at. Every word, argument, threat, swear, drink, built an armor around me so thick, that I wasn’t even aware I was wearing it. I was oblivious that I was traumatized. What I thought was resilience and strength, was a mask for how weak, hurt and fragile I was.

The next morning, she was soaked in humiliation and shame. Not because she had feelings for this person, since inevitably she just would, but because she revealed a vulnerable part of herself that was clouded. The memory of the night was distant and unreachable. She tried to focus on the fact he had slept with someone else to diminish her feelings of embarrassment but that just triggered her feelings of unworthiness.

As I sat there listening, I reflected on my phone call with my boyfriend the night before. I had experienced a very similar conversation. He was in a state of euphoria, as if he died, saw the light and was now on the path to enlightenment. He talked to me about how good he was feeling, how strong he felt, how in touch with himself he was, how in control he felt and how he knew this time it would be different. I sat there listening, not believing a single word that came out of his mouth.

We were lucky, but not immune to the impact this loss had on us years later. We survived, but we lost a piece of ourselves that was never fully restored. I continue to find sentiment in the undeserving, holding the false belief this will resurrect what I lost. I grieve an irreplaceable comfort and I long for a home I still am searching for.

I didn’t learn the proper lesson about letting go until I adopted my cat, Alice. It had been one year and the transition from the chaotic life I had been living to the calm one I was seeking was still underway. I went from an alcoholic household, to one toxic relationship to another, trauma bonding and igniting my codependent patterns and behaviours that were meticulously rooted within me.

Embracing change is hard, but resisting change just prolongs its process. In this article we focuses on 5 ways you can initiate change.