From Survival to Thriving: My Journey Beyond Trauma

Why Survival Isn’t the End of the Story

I recently finished recording a podcast interview where the host asked about my work, my upbringing, and the lived experiences that shaped me.

At one point in the conversation, I spoke about something I didn’t talk about publicly for a long time.

An arranged marriage that altered the entire trajectory of my life.

At the time, I didn’t have the language for what was happening. I didn’t call it trauma. I didn’t call it coercion. I didn’t even fully understand the level of fear my body was carrying.

I just knew my nervous system was on fire.

For two years, I lived in severe PTSD.

Nightmares.

Hypervigilance.

My head constantly swiveling in public spaces.

Walking with my eyes down.

Avoiding mirrors — because being seen felt dangerous. Even by myself.

When your nervous system is in survival mode long enough, it begins to reshape your identity. You don’t just feel unsafe. You become organized around not being seen.

Silence starts to feel protective.

Smallness starts to feel strategic.

Disappearing feels safer than existing.

And when silence becomes chronic, the nervous system encodes it as shame.

Shame is not just an emotion. It is a full-body collapse. It lowers posture. It constricts breath. It softens voice. It distorts identity.

It whispers:

“This is your fault.”

“Don’t speak.”

“Hide.”

For a long time, I believed hiding was strength.

Until I realized it was survival.

The Moment I Realized I Had Changed

After the podcast interview aired, I listened back.

And I unexpectedly broke down.

Not from pain.

From perspective.

Sometimes growth is so incremental you don’t realize how far you’ve come. The days feel slow. Healing feels nonlinear. You take one step at a time without certainty. You don’t know what the future holds — but you begin believing in yourself one percent more each day.

You keep showing up.

Even on the hard days.

There was a period in my life when I didn’t want to live. I had intrusive visions of how I would end it. That is difficult to write. But it’s true.

Today?

I want to live past 100.

My life is radically different.

I have a permanent restraining order against my ex-husband. I used to be afraid of being seen. Afraid to tell my story. Afraid of being misunderstood.

Today, I am not hiding.

Not because the past didn’t happen.

But because I didn’t do anything wrong.

That shift matters.

What Post-Traumatic Growth Actually Is

Post-traumatic growth is often misunderstood.

It is not toxic positivity.

It is not pretending the trauma was “meant to happen.”

It is not minimizing pain.

Post-traumatic growth is what becomes possible when the nervous system learns safety again.

From a neurobiological perspective, trauma reorganizes the brain around threat detection. The amygdala becomes hyper-alert. The prefrontal cortex — responsible for reasoning and perspective — becomes less accessible under stress. The body lives in a constant loop of scanning.

Growth begins when safety is reintroduced consistently enough that the brain can rewire.

Neuroplasticity allows new associations:

• Visibility does not equal danger.

• Voice does not equal punishment.

• Boundaries do not equal abandonment.

Identity begins to rebuild.

Not as the version of you that survived.

But as the version of you that integrates.

Growth Is Not Linear

Here’s the part no one glamorizes:

The feeling is not linear.

Some days feel empowered.

Some days feel tender.

Some days you’re strong.

Some days you’re tired.

Growth never stops. It spirals. It deepens. It revisits old terrain with new capacity.

You don’t wake up one day “healed.”

You wake up one day and realize:

“I respond differently now.”

You look in the mirror without flinching.

You speak without apologizing for existing.

You set a boundary without collapsing.

That is growth.

Not dramatic.

Not loud.

But profound.

From Defeat to Integration

Defeat says:

“This broke me.”

Post-traumatic growth says:

“This changed me — and I am choosing how it shapes me.”

The trauma does not disappear.

But your relationship to it transforms.

You are no longer organized around fear.

You are no longer defined by silence.

You are no longer collapsing under shame.

You become expansive.

And that expansion is not accidental.

It is built through:

• Regulation

• Boundaries

• Self-trust

• Identity reconstruction

• Consistent nervous system work

Safety can be learned.

That is not spiritual bypassing. That is neuroscience.

If You’re in the Middle of It

If you are in a dark season right now, I want you to know something clearly:

You are not broken.

Your nervous system adapted to survive.

And adaptation is not weakness — it is intelligence.

Change can happen slowly.

Change can happen abruptly.

But real change becomes possible the moment belief shifts.

There was a time I could not imagine this version of my life.

Now I cannot imagine shrinking back into silence.

You may feel like you are barely holding it together.

But you may also be in the middle of becoming.

And becoming is not defeat.

It is growth.

If this resonated with you and you want to hear the full conversation where I share more about this chapter and the science behind healing, you can listen to the episode on Baskets of Knowledge here:

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/baskets-of-knowledge/id1577123344?i=1000749926003

Growth is possible.

Not because the trauma was good.

But because you are capable of rebuilding.

And that is power.