When Chaos Feels Like Home

Leticia Francis Author

Teen abuse, divorce, and a body on high alert—Dawn shows how grief work, ownership, and nervous-system care move us from survival to reinvention.

Some wounds don’t bleed; they broadcast. They show up as hypervigilance that scans every room, a nervous system that never idles, a body that “doesn’t feel right” but won’t give a doctor a neat diagnosis. That was Dawn’s life for years.

A registered nurse of 30 years, advanced Grief Recovery Method Specialist, author, and women’s retreat facilitator, Dawn came on Survival Mode Disrupted to share how teenage intimate partner violence followed her into adulthood—right into marriage, motherhood, and her health. The relationship began with charm and attention (a lifeline in a home shadowed by addiction). Then came the control, the physical and emotional abuse, the escalating danger, and a teenage brain learning one core rule: safety can vanish without warning.

Even after she left, that rule ran the show. In her marriage to a safe man, Dawn still didn’t feel safe—because safety inside her body had been stolen. Counseling helped her speak, but didn’t give her a way to release. She blamed, braced, and burned out. Her health murmured “no” in mysterious ways. And then she met the Grief Recovery Method—and discovered grief wasn’t just about death.

Grief, she learned, is the normal and natural response to any loss or major transition. The abusive relationship. The divorce at 30 with a toddler. The childhood that prioritized the addict over the child. The identity you lose when you marry, mother, move, or leave. Every one of those moments can weigh your backpack until one small trigger makes it explode.

Dawn’s story maps the three phases of exiting survival mode we champion here: Self-Awareness, Reprogramming, and Reinvention. Her wisdom is both anchor and map.

Phase 1 — Self-Awareness: “This isn’t just one bad chapter. It’s a pattern written by pain.”

Survival fog makes everything look siloed: “the divorce,” “the blow-up,” “the health scare.” Dawn zoomed out and traced the web:

• Teenage abuse → learned hypervigilance, chaos = normal, love = unsafe

• Marriage to a safe partner → body still braced, intimacy felt dangerous, reactivity high

• Work & health → chronic tension, unexplained symptoms, a life that never truly exhaled

She also named a hard truth: I gave away my power by refusing ownership of my healing. Not responsibility for what was done to her—ownership of what happens next.

Try this (awareness):

• Trigger tracing: After a big reaction, ask: What does this remind me of? (Your brain will go hunting for the answer.)

• Backpack inventory: List the “rocks” you’ve been carrying (moves, betrayals, breakups, layoffs, diagnoses, disappointments, even happy changes). Seeing the load explains the ache.

• Safety audit: Where do I actually feel safe right now—body, space, relationships? What micro-unsafe habits am I tolerating (overcommitment, constant news, no downtime)?

Phase 2 — Reprogramming: “My body deserves proof, not pep talks.”

Insight without action keeps you looping the same mile. Dawn needed new experiences that told her body the world could be different—plus a structured way to empty the backpack.

Enter the Grief Recovery Method—an action-based, educational process that helps you complete the unfinished emotional communication stored around losses and transitions. It’s not endless recounting; it’s guided completion. The result for Dawn? Less blame, more breath. Less chaos, more choice. And crucially, a tool she could reuse whenever life shifted.

Try this (reprogramming):

• 90-second reset: Name 5 colors, 4 shapes, 3 sounds, 2 textures, 1 scent. Then breathe in 4, out 8 (4x). Put one palm on your heart. Tell your body, “We’re here. We’re safe.”

• Grief expansion: Write three headings—Loss, Transition, Change. Fill each with events that left residue (even “good” ones). Circle one to work on this month.

• Completion letter (short form):
  Dear ___, I wanted more… I needed… I’m sorry for… I forgive you for… I wish… Goodbye.
  (Read it aloud in a safe space or with a trusted facilitator.)

• Nervous-system minimums: light movement, hydration, regular meals, morning light, a hard stop to the day. Regulation loves routine.

Language swap (reprogramming):

• From “Everyone keeps hurting me.” → “I’m choosing to heal what makes harm feel like home.”

• From “It’s their fault I’m like this.” → “What’s my 1% of power today?”

Phase 3 — Reinvention: “Home is inside my skin.”

For Dawn, reinvention didn’t mean pretending the past was pretty. It meant becoming a safe person to herself, choosing calm over chaos, and building a life where grief has a process and safety has a plan. She now walks others through the same doorway—virtually, over six to seven sessions—so they can carry a lighter backpack too.

Try this (reinvention):

• Identity statements (present-tense, doable):
  I am a person who protects my peace.
  I am a person who finishes feelings.
  I am a person who notices before I numb.

• Boundary with a hinge: “I’m not available for chaos. If we can speak calmly, I’m in.”

• Chaos cue: When you feel the urge to stir it (because calm feels foreign), pause. Do one regulating act (walk, shower, stretch), then choose the smallest generous action that serves future-you.

• Annual grief ritual: On a date that matters to you, complete a letter, take a walk, light a candle, release one rock from the backpack. Mark the movement.

What Dawn wants you to remember

• Grief is bigger than death. It’s the echo of every loss and transition.

• You can be safe with a safe person and still feel unsafe—until you learn safety inside your own body.

• Blame blocks power. Ownership opens doors.

• Where you are is one page, not your whole book. Turn it.

You weren’t built to break—and you were never built to only survive. If you’re ready to put the backpack down, name the losses, and write a softer next chapter, you’re already on your way.

Categories: : Podcast