Chris' Story

Survivor of CSA, Narcissistic Abuse, and a physical birth defect

​​August 2021, at the age of fifty-two, marked the beginning of my healing journey.

I had a nervous breakdown—what I would later call

“The dark season of my soul.”

At the time, I was clueless about what was happening to me.

All I could do was cry. My body shook endlessly.

Decades of stored emotions and hurt erupted like a storm, demanding to be seen. I was broken and lost, drowning in a tsunami of pain. Everything I thought I knew about myself and my world came crashing down.

I had so much to unpack and heal from. I didn’t know where—or even how—to start.

All I knew was that I had no choice but to heal.

The Early Wounds

I was born with seven fingers, to a loving mother and an emotionally immature father whom I feared.

In fourth grade, I was bullied because of my hands.

By fifth grade, I was sexually assaulted by someone I should have been able to trust.

The CSA led me to start drinking at just ten years old, quickly progressing to drugs. I was a child with secrets and pain too big to carry, looking for anything to numb it.

By nineteen, I wanted to end my life.

Thankfully, I didn’t. Eventually, I went on to marry my best friend, and together we have seven beautiful children.

But even in this joy, trauma had more to weave into my story.

Trauma Attracts More Trauma

Life has stories within stories.

Trauma is like that—it attracts more of itself when left unhealed.

My wife’s stepfather, a man I once called a friend, had caused her incredible harm. That is her story to tell, but our paths became deeply intertwined from that moment forward.

The deepest part of me wanted to scream and run the other way.

But I loved my bride.

I wanted to give her what she thought she needed—her mother.

She was young. Pregnant.

She believed that keeping her mother close was necessary.

I ignored my inner voice, and to my deepest regret, we spent the next 27 years entangled in a life of enmeshment—sharing a home, a business, and even ministry with people who would only bring more harm.

They are both narcissists.

The damage they did to my family is unforgivable.

They should never have been a part of our lives.

We believed in "forgive and forget."

We didn’t realize how unhealed we were.

We spiritualized our pain.

We bypassed our trauma.

We poured ourselves out—self-sacrificing—

Believing in the “one day.”

Always having hope.

Trusting people would change.

Suppressing the pain.

Walking through life numb.

Until "one day" finally came—

And I broke.

The Healing Journey

Healing has been the most difficult, yet beautiful, journey I have ever taken.

At first, it happened moment by moment.

I began to learn about trauma, immersing myself in books, podcasts, and social media resources that helped me name what I had endured.

I started therapy.

For the first time, I felt validated.

I realized I wasn’t crazy.

I wasn’t weak.

I was wounded.

And wounds can heal.

I learned that my story mattered.

And, more importantly, I mattered too.

Slowly, I started putting what I was learning into practice.

I meditated.

I cried—a lot.

I saw a Reiki practitioner.

I sat with myself.

I listened to the voices inside me—the parts that had been silenced for so long.

It’s been a wild journey.

I went from having

To—

"I desire to heal."

Who I Am Today

Today, I live my life from a place of strength and healing.

I have reclaimed my identity.

I know who I am and why I am here.

I know now that I was never meant to carry the blame.

And I am deserving of love and goodness.

My growing life mantra is simple:

"Live in the moment and see where it takes you."

I wish the same for all survivors.

If this story resonates with you, you’re not alone.

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