The struggle in surviving

When you've spent 19 years in survival mode, learning how to live can become the hardest part.

There is something about surviving that nobody really prepares you for. Everyone talks about how strong you are. How brave you were to leave. How incredible it is that you picked yourself up, raised your child, built a business, and created a life after everything you went through. And don't get me wrong, I am proud of myself. But there is a side of survival that doesn't get talked about enough.

The part where you finally make it out, but your mind and body never got the message that the danger is over.

For 19 years, I have lived in what I am only now beginning to understand was a constant state of fight or flight. Nineteen years. Believe me I have tried to let that sink in how extremely long that is. Almost two decades of waking up and figuring out how I was going to make everything work. Almost two decades of carrying responsibilities, worries, fears, and struggles that most people never saw. I escaped domestic violence, but escaping the relationship didn't mean escaping what it did to me. I was left trying to rebuild a life while carrying trauma I didn't even have the time to process. Because I'm a mom. And when you're a mom, especially a single mom, you don't always get the luxury of falling apart.

You get up. You go to work. You pay the bills. You make sure there's food in the fridge, clothes on your child's back, and a roof over their head. You make birthdays happen. You make Christmas magical. You show up for school events. You wipe away tears, celebrate accomplishments, and make sure your child knows they are loved.

And somewhere in between all of that, you quietly fall apart. But nobody notices because you've become so damn good at holding everything together.

For 19 years, I was a single mom. I was the provider, the protector, the problem solver, the emotional support, and the person who had to figure out absolutely everything.

And let's talk about the financial side for a second.

I received a whopping $25 a month in child support. Yep. Twenty-five dollars. And that was IF the cheque even showed up. Meanwhile, I was responsible for raising an entire human being. His needs, his future, his happiness, his security. Absolutely I DID! There were no days off from being responsible. No magical backup plan. No one coming to rescue me when the bills were piling up or when I was exhausted beyond words.

I just figured it out. Every. Single. Time. Because I had to. And I would do it all again for my son.

But here's the part that has been hitting me lately.

Just because I was capable of carrying it all doesn't mean it wasn't slowly breaking me.

I spent so many years being strong because there wasn't another option that I never stopped to ask myself what all that strength was costing me. I have battled anxiety, depression, and PTSD. I've experienced panic attacks, sleepless nights, emotional exhaustion, and moments where my own mind felt like a place I couldn't escape.

But I kept going.

I became an expert at functioning while struggling. An expert at smiling while exhausted. An expert at saying "I've got this" when, deep down, I was hanging on by a thread. And for a long time, I thought that was just who I was. The independent woman. The strong mom. The one who could handle anything.

But lately, I've started to realize something.

I wasn't always thriving. I was surviving. And there is a very big difference.

What Happens When You Finally Feel Safe?

Fast forward to today. I am now in a healthy relationship. Yes the first one in my entire 39 years of living on this earth. I have a partner. Someone beside me. Someone I can lean on. Someone who shares the responsibilities of life with me. I don't have to figure out every single problem alone anymore. I don't have to carry the weight of the entire world on my shoulders. For the first time in a very long time, I have the opportunity to just... breathe. And you would think that would be the easiest, most beautiful transition in the world.

But here's something I never expected. I don't know how.

I genuinely don't know how to live without constantly preparing for the next thing to go wrong. My mind doesn't seem to understand that I don't have to do everything anymore. My body doesn't seem to understand that I can rest. My nervous system has spent so many years being on high alert that calm can actually feel uncomfortable. I catch myself worrying about things that haven't even happened. I feel anxious when there is absolutely nothing wrong. I feel guilty sitting down because somewhere in the back of my mind, there's a voice telling me I should be doing something. Fixing something. Preparing for something. Figuring something out. And running my own business has made that even more complicated. Because there is ALWAYS something I could be doing. Another product to create. Another order to finish. Another website update. Another idea. Another task waiting for my attention.

For years, staying busy wasn't just a choice. It was how I survived.

And now I'm trying to understand the difference between working because I love what I do and working because I don't know how to stop.

That is a difficult thing to admit.

Especially when you've built something from nothing and you're terrified of letting it slip away.

But I'm learning that resting doesn't mean I'm giving up on my dreams.

It doesn't mean I'm lazy.

And it certainly doesn't mean I'm failing.

It means I'm human.

Something I think I've forgotten to allow myself to be.

The Exhaustion Nobody Sees

Lately, I've been struggling with sleep.

Some nights I can't stay asleep. Other nights my dreams are so vivid that I wake up feeling like my mind has been working overtime.

And then there are the mornings when I wake up completely exhausted, despite spending hours in bed. Not just a little tired. I'm talking about the kind of exhaustion that makes your entire body feel heavy. The kind where your brain feels foggy, your motivation disappears, and even the smallest tasks feel overwhelming.

And sometimes I get frustrated with myself.

Because I have a good life. I have things to be grateful for. I have a loving relationship, a family, a business I built with my own two hands, and a purpose that means the world to me.

So why am I so tired?

Why does my anxiety still show up?

Why can't I just relax and enjoy everything I've worked so hard for?

But I'm starting to understand that being safe today doesn't automatically erase what I survived yesterday. For years, my body and mind adapted to stress because they had to. Being alert, anticipating problems, and constantly thinking ten steps ahead became normal to me. And now I'm trying to teach myself that I don't have to live that way anymore. But you can't undo 19 years of survival mode overnight.

And I think that's the part I've been struggling to accept.

The Realization That Hit Me the Hardest: Dissociation

Something else I've been learning about lately is dissociation.

And this one has really made me reflect on my life. For anyone who doesn't know, dissociation can be a way the mind disconnects from feelings, surroundings, or experiences when things become too overwhelming. For some people, it can feel like going on autopilot, feeling emotionally numb, or being physically present but not fully connected to the moment. And as I've started learning about it, I've found myself looking back at so many moments in my life differently.

How many times did I just shut my emotions off because I couldn't afford to feel them?

How many times did I push through something traumatic because I had a child depending on me?

How many days did I go through the motions without ever stopping to acknowledge how I actually felt?

How many times did I throw myself into work, parenting, or building my business because staying busy felt easier than sitting alone with my thoughts?

How much of my life did I spend simply getting through the day instead of truly experiencing it?

I am still learning what dissociation means for me and working through those questions. But the realization that I may have spent parts of my life disconnected from myself just to survive is difficult to sit with. Because when you're in survival mode, you don't always recognize what you're doing. You just know you have to make it through.

And I did.

Over and over again.

But now I'm beginning to wonder how much of myself I put on hold along the way.

Nobody Tells You That Healing Can Feel Scary

I think one of the biggest misconceptions about escaping an abusive relationship is that once you're out, everything gets better.

And yes, getting out can save your life.

It changed mine.

But surviving domestic violence doesn't end the moment you close the door behind you. Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones that come years later.

When the chaos is gone.

When you're finally surrounded by people who love you.

When life is no longer about escaping.

When you have time to actually feel everything you spent years pushing down.

That's when you can begin to realize just how much you've been carrying.

And sometimes that realization is overwhelming.

I have spent so many years being fiercely independent that accepting help can feel uncomfortable. Not because I don't appreciate it. But because relying on someone else was never something I felt I could safely do. I learned that if something needed to be done, I had to do it. If there was a problem, I had to solve it. If life fell apart, I had to put it back together. And now I'm learning that having someone beside me doesn't mean I'm weak. It means I don't have to do everything alone anymore. But knowing that and actually feeling comfortable with it are two very different things.

I'm learning how to be loved without being in survival mode.

I'm learning how to rest without guilt.

I'm learning that a peaceful day doesn't mean something terrible is waiting around the corner.

And some days, that learning process is harder than I ever imagined.

I Don't Want to Just Survive Anymore

This is probably the most vulnerable part of this entire post.

I'm tired.

Not tired of my life. Not tired of the people I love. Not tired of my business or the purpose I've created.

I'm tired of feeling like I have to fight all the time.

I'm tired of waking up exhausted.

I'm tired of anxiety showing up when everything around me is okay.

I'm tired of feeling guilty for needing rest.

I'm tired of my mind constantly searching for problems that need solving.

And I'm tired of feeling frustrated with myself because I can't simply switch it all off.

I spent 19 years making sure my son had everything I could possibly give him. And I don't regret a single sacrifice I made for him, everyone who knows me knows he is my whole world. He was my reason to keep going on days when I didn't know how I would. I built a business because I wanted more for our future and because I wanted to create something meaningful with my life. And I'm proud of every single thing I've accomplished. But somewhere along the way, I forgot that I mattered too.

That my mental health mattered.

That my exhaustion mattered.

That I deserved more than just making it through another day.

And now, after all these years, I'm trying to figure out who I am when I'm not constantly fighting to keep everything together.

Who am I when I don't have to be the strong one every second?

Who am I when I allow someone else to carry part of the weight?

Who am I when I'm not measuring my worth by how much I accomplish in a day?

Who am I when life is peaceful?

Those might sound like simple questions.

But for someone who has spent almost two decades in survival mode, they're anything but simple.

The Part of My Story I'm Still Writing

I wish I could end this blog by telling you I've figured it all out. That I sleep peacefully every night. That my anxiety is gone. That my PTSD no longer affects me. That I've learned how to relax and fully embrace the life I've built.

But that wouldn't be honest.

And if there's one thing I've promised myself through sharing my story, it's that I will always be honest.

The truth is, I'm still struggling. I'm still learning about trauma, my nervous system, and the ways my past continues to affect my present. I'm still working through the exhaustion, the anxiety, the sleepless nights, and the emotions I spent years pushing aside. I'm still learning that my business can be my passion without becoming another reason to run myself into the ground. And I'm learning that healing isn't always about becoming stronger.

Sometimes it's about finally allowing yourself to stop being strong for everyone else.

Sometimes it's about admitting you're exhausted.

Sometimes it's about accepting help.

And sometimes it's about sitting in a safe, loving home and reminding yourself that you don't have to run anymore.

I escaped domestic violence.

I raised my son.

I built a business from the ground up.

I turned my pain into purpose through Shattering Silence.

I survived things that changed me forever.

And I am incredibly proud of the woman who made all of that happen.

But I also feel sadness for her.

For the young mom who had to grow up so quickly.

For the woman who cried behind closed doors and then wiped her tears away before her son could see.

For the woman who carried financial burdens, trauma, fear, and responsibility while trying to make life feel normal for her child.

For the woman who worked late into the night trying to build a better future while quietly battling her own mind.

For the woman who never had time to stop.

I wish I could go back and tell her that one day she would be safe.

That one day she wouldn't have to carry everything alone.

That one day she would find love that didn't hurt.

That one day she would build something incredible out of the very struggles she thought might destroy her.

But most of all, I wish I could tell her that she deserves to rest.

And maybe that's what I'm finally trying to tell myself now.

I survived. But I deserve more than a lifetime of survival.

I deserve peace.

I deserve rest.

I deserve to experience happiness without waiting for it to disappear.

I deserve to be loved without feeling like I have to earn it by doing everything.

And I deserve the time it takes to learn how to live differently.

Because after 19 years of running on empty, I am finally beginning to understand something.

The woman who survived everything is now learning that she doesn't have to survive everything anymore.

And maybe this next chapter isn't about fighting harder. Maybe it's about learning that I can finally put the armour down. I don't know how long that will take. I don't know how many more restless nights or difficult days are ahead. But I do know that I didn't fight this hard to spend the rest of my life afraid to live.

I want to be present.

I want to feel peace.

I want to enjoy the life I worked so hard to create.

I want to continue growing my business, spreading awareness, and using my voice to remind others that their struggles do not define their worth.

But I also want to remember that I am more than a business owner.

More than a mother.

More than a survivor.

I am a person who deserves the same love, compassion, and understanding that I have spent so many years giving everyone else.

And for the first time, I want to learn how to take care of the woman who spent 19 years taking care of everyone else.

Because surviving saved my life.

My business gave me purpose.

But now, I want to learn how to truly live within myself not as if I am watching it as a movie in a disassociation state.

This is me, real, raw and unapologetic. 

And if you felt any of this I hope it's a reminder your not alone, reach out, ask for help and remember how much you matter. 

Much love,

Katie

Shattering Silence — Break the Silence. Wear Your Voice.