The Opening
Mariam’s Voice
“When Valerie left home in her mid-twenties, she thought she was stepping into a new chapter. But like so many childhood trauma survivors, the past wasn’t left behind—it showed up again, this time in the shape of a relationship.”
Valerie’s Voice
“I met this guy when I was 28, and we had a ten-year relationship that was abusive.”
Mariam’s Voice
“On the surface, she looked like she had it together: a career as a teacher, a stable life. But behind closed doors, she was living in a secret storm. It was the same survival pattern she learned as a child: endure chaos, accept neglect, and convince herself that it was love.”
Valerie’s Voice
“I had no clue that I was just repeating. It was like I was working my job, and I had this normal life as a teacher. But over here, I had this terrible, sordid, chaotic, miserable relationship. I felt that — that was what I deserve! I thought that I need to fix you in some way…”
Mariam’s Voice
“What Valerie didn’t realize then is something many survivors eventually discover—that when the past isn’t healed, it doesn’t stay in the past. It resurfaces, disguised as love, disguised as fate. And so, what began as a relationship turned into a mirror—reflecting all the buried wounds she thought she’d left behind.
And that’s where Part 2 of Valerie’s story begins.”
My name is Mariam Kavai, and I am a post traumatic growth teacher and coach.
And you are listening to Transform into Wisdom Podcast
Valerie’s 10 Year Abusive Relationship
Mariam’s Voice
So, Valerie, at this point you are an adult now, what happens at this stage of your life?
Valerie’s Voice
I had a terrible relationship. I left home at 25, I met this guy when I was 28, and we had a 10-year relationship that was, abusive but I needed love and so, I stayed in this relationship, even though to everybody outside of it, they were like, what are you doing? Why are you with this guy? You know? So, the material effects of what happened to me were like so many women. I found the same pattern in, a romantic relationship.
Intermission:
Mariam’s Voice
From part one, it’s already clear that Valerie had a difficult childhood.
But “difficult” is an understatement. “Difficult” feels too small a word. No child should ever go through what Valerie went through.
So, when she left home in her mid-twenties, she thought she was stepping into a brand-new chapter. But like so many survivors, the past wasn’t left behind—it showed up again. This time, in the shape of a relationship.
At 28, Valerie met a man who was, in many ways, a photocopy of her father’s core character. Like her father, he was abusive.
That relationship lasted ten years. Ten years of chaos, pain, and yet—at the time—Valerie convinced herself it was love.
“I needed love,” she remembers. “And so, I stayed in this relationship, even though to everybody outside of it, they were like, ‘What are you doing? Why are you with this guy?’”
And here’s one of the first traps of trauma: outsiders see danger clearly, but inside, the survivor often sees possibility. Because the pull isn’t logic—it’s familiarity.
It’s so heartbreakingly common for people who grew up with abuse or neglect to find themselves drawn to partners who mirror those very wounds. It’s one of the cruelest legacies of childhood trauma. The adult longs for love—often innocently, openly—but their nervous system has been trained on an entirely different definition.
Think of a sponge, or tofu—it absorbs the flavor of its environment. In the same way, a child absorbs the “flavor” of their family system, and all of that gets stored deep in the unconscious mind. It becomes the operating system of both the mind and the nervous system.
So, when Valerie met this man, her body didn’t just register attraction—it registered recognition. To her nervous system, it felt like soul-mate love: sparks, fireworks, a breath of fresh air.
But what felt like destiny was simply the familiar.
And here’s the paradox: while consciously searching for real love, survivors often end up in relationships that carry the perfect ingredients of a toxic, unhealthy bond.
On the surface, the label says love—but inside the box is pain.
Valerie’s Voice
I really suffered during this period; I did all the things that happened to survivors. I was triggered. It was like I was working my job, and I had this normal life as a teacher. But over here, I had this terrible, Sordid, chaotic, miserable relationship.
Mariam’s Voice
Yeah. So, it was pretty much reminding you of the past really, because you had not made peace with the past. And so, it was there to remind you of the things that you haven’t, the things that you had buried really deep.
Valerie’s Voice
Yeah. I had no idea that this guy giving me material things, giving me presents, taking me to restaurants, being lavish with me, and then verbally abusive and cold and exploitive…I felt that — that’s what I deserve. You know, I thought that’s, well, he loves me, but he’s just, he has his own problems, and I guess I just have to adapt to what this guy is like, and I had no clue that I was just repeating.
Mariam’s Voice
Right, right, right. Your childhood, because that was exactly what happened. That’s the same story you told yourself with your parents, right? When they gave you things, you were like, yeah, they love me, you know, because they’re giving me these things and then maybe they just have problems, and I have to deal with them. It’s the same story.
Valerie’s Voice
Yes, exactly. I felt sorry for them. I felt sorry and felt Wow. You know? I need to fix you in some way. And so, I tried to fix this guy, you know, by giving him love, by, you know, listening to his problems constantly, by letting him be exploitive by, um, making all kinds of excuses for him. Um, it was exactly what it was with my, and even kind of looked like my dad physically.
And I knew that, and part of me was even like, well, you know, maybe you need to stick with this relationship until you deal with this. Do you see what I mean? Yeah. Like, I was not, I was not a victim or, you know,, I was no longer like spaced out and not knowing what I was doing…Part of me knew that this guy who, by the way, had another girlfriend, I knew this was kind of a parental paradigm.
And in a way I wanted to deal with it. I was like, okay, this is your dad. You resent that. You felt your dad loved you, had some interest in you, but your mom was a bad factor in this. She was a rival, she was a scary person, not a good person. And so, I was acting all this out with this situation. Simultaneously being aware that it was horribly unhealthy..
Mariam’s Voice
Yeah. And I heard when you said you, you wanted to change this person, and so you did all these things that you thought he could love you if you just did these things. You, if you loved him, if you listened to his problems, that somehow you’d fix him.
And that is a fantasy from childhood that if you can just do something different with your parents, maybe they will love you the right way.
Valerie Voice
Yeah. If I could be, what they wanted, then they would all of a sudden come clean with me and say, oh, we were wrong. You’ve done all this work on yourself, now we are doing this work on ourselves, and we’re going to have an equal, healthy, reciprocal relationship.
And that was totally impossible because I, I chose a guy who never. Had an inkling of working on himself. You know, I do know he had, he was, he had child abuse, you know, issues in his past, you know, I don’t, I don’t despise him or anything like that. I loved him, but, but I do know that in terms of, um, the, the dynamic as a survivor, I was just reenacting what I could never win.
Intermission:
Mariam’s Voice
On the outside, Valerie’s life looked stable. She worked as a teacher, showed up every day, kept it together. But beneath the surface, she was caught in a private storm. It was the same survival pattern she had learned as a child: endure the chaos, accept the neglect, and call it love.
“I had no idea I was just repeating,” she reflects. “My parents gave me things too, and I told myself, ‘Well, they love me—they just have problems, and I have to adapt.’ I thought the same with him. He gave me gifts, took me to restaurants, but he was verbally abusive, cold, and exploitive. And I felt, ‘Well, I guess this is love. I just need to fix him.’”
This is the cruel logic of trauma. Survivors reenact the past, hoping that this time, with enough effort, they can rewrite the ending. Valerie thought if she listened harder, loved more, forgave endlessly—maybe he would finally change.
“I tried to fix him by listening to his problems constantly, by giving hi,m love, by making excuses,” she says. “I even noticed he physically resembled my father. And part of me thought—maybe you need to stay in this relationship until you deal with this. But of course, that was impossible. He never wanted to do the work on himself.”
And here’s another trap of trauma: awareness doesn’t always equal freedom. Even when Valerie could see the parallels—even when she could name the dysfunction—the old logic still pulled her in: If I can just be what he needs, maybe this time I’ll be loved the right way.
Valerie Voice
There’s no winning. There’s no winning.
Mariam’s Voice
Yeah. Yeah. There’s no winning because what’s driving their argument is not something you are conscious of. Right. It’s, it’s not something that is really like present in your mind. Like, does this make a logical sense that trying to change somebody else so that they can love you, you know, there’s no logic in that.
It doesn’t work like that. But in your mind, in your mind still as, uh, you know, growing up in the environment that you did, having that logic makes you think that it is possible.
Valerie Voice
Yeah. And another thing is that, you know, um, the, after everything I did, kind of like giving up, well, I didn’t have an identity. I’d already given it up, you know?. But, but to the extent that I was trying to have an identity, I mostly fit into his life.
And at a certain point, after nine years, he goes, why don’t you get a life? You have no life. And I think my parents gave me a similar message in, wow, we like your brother because he asserts himself and he has a real strong personality.
You ‘re kind of like, nothing. Like, why don’t you have a life? Why are you just trying to please us? So that was also really damaging and depressing to be told that my efforts to be lovable and to help were seen as weakness. Whereas at school and as a teacher, the words that people always used about me were strong, determined, never did anyone suggest in my work life that I didn’t have a personality.
The abuse was affecting my work life for sure. Yeah. But, but I was never receiving that rejection. Not, well, excuse me, I shouldn’t say that. I sometimes was rejected by my bosses. Yes. Um, but, but in general, it astonished me that he thought I had no life because I had a whole career.
Intermission:
Mariam’s Voice
Nine years in, he cut her with words that echoed straight from her childhood:
“Why don’t you get a life? You have no life. Why don’t you get a life?”
Valerie remembers how devastating that moment was. “It reminded me of my parents—how they compared me to my brother, said I was nothing. And yet, at school, at work, people always saw me as strong, determined. Never invisible. But with him, here he is saying, ‘You have no life.’ Almost like I was nothing again.”
That’s the paradox for so many survivors: you can excel in the outside world, appear capable and confident, and still feel small and unseen inside your most intimate relationships. Because those are the places where old wounds resurface most powerfully. And often, you find yourself chasing scraps of love that echo the hurts of childhood.
Valerie’s story reminds us of a truth Carl Jung captured when he said: If you don’t make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate.
If you don’t make the unconscious conscious,
Carl Jung
it will direct your life,
and you will call it fate.
The relationships may change, the settings may shift—but until the buried patterns are faced, the script remains the same.
Listen to the full episode
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