Surviving Chaos: How Childhood, Trauma & Military Life Shape the Way We Love (And how to break free through self-awareness and healing)
For years, I blamed myself when friendships or potential love interests fell apart, thinking something was wrong with me.
Trauma has a way of marring your perspective — making you feel like the problem, even when what happened to you was out of your control. As trauma survivors, we often develop a need to control things, because we didn’t have that safety before.
So when it came to love, I loved hard. I loved fast.
And when it fizzled or failed, I carried the weight — believing I gave too much, cared too deeply, felt too intensely.
I’ve often thought, “Maybe I’m just too much.”
But I’ve learned that as an empath, I feel deeply. And when I hurt, it cuts deep. Healing takes time — sometimes years.
And I now know: That depth? That tenderness? That’s not weakness. It’s resilience in motion.
The Weight of Being an Empath
As an empath, I don’t just observe emotions — I absorb them. I feel the energy in a room shift before a word is spoken. I can sense pain behind a smile.
It’s both a gift and a burden.
Empaths carry the emotional weight of others while often neglecting their own needs. We love with intensity, offer support without hesitation, and extend grace even when it’s not reciprocated.
But without boundaries, that empathy can become emotional exhaustion. We overgive. We overcommit. We feel too much — and sometimes we internalize the pain of others as our own failure.
For those of us who are also trauma survivors, this empathy can be amplified.
We were wired for survival — constantly monitoring others for danger, rejection, or abandonment. In doing so, we became hyper-aware of people’s needs and feelings… because our safety once depended on it.
The military reinforced this: high-stress environments, emotional suppression, and sacrificial service. But once you leave that world, the same traits that helped you survive can make it hard to thrive.
That’s why self-awareness matters.
Understanding I was an empath helped me stop apologizing for my sensitivity — and start honoring it.
It helped me recognize that being “too emotional” or “too much” wasn’t a flaw.
It was a superpower. One that needs boundaries, healing, and room to breathe.
Now, I use that same sensitivity to guide others with compassion, discernment, and deep emotional intelligence.
What once felt like brokenness is now the way I serve.
My story didn’t start in strength — it started in survival. Raised by two Filipino mothers and two American military career fathers shaped by early trauma, I entered the Navy already in fight-or-flight. Later, I transitioned into the Air Force, still carrying buried emotions I didn’t know how to name.
The military taught me to “suck it up,” but never taught me how to unpack the pain. It took faith, self-awareness, and the courage to choose healing.
My resilient transition began the moment I stopped blaming myself and started building a new foundation from within.
But the truth is — I was raised to chase love.
My need for closeness, my tendency to overgive, and my fear of being left behind — none of it was random. It was survival.
And I know I’m not alone.
My childhood was complex. A blended family with blended expectations. My stepmom ruled with an iron fist — her version of love was discipline, rules, and control. My mom, on the other hand, wasn’t strict, but often absent. I remember having babysitters constantly, bouncing between homes, and trying to make sense of it all.
My stepdad was a stern, militant man who held high expectations but showed little emotional warmth. My biological dad? A soft-hearted teddy bear with a strict streak from his Air Force days. He got gentler as we got older, but the contrast in parenting styles created a deep divide and confusion within me.
As a child, I learned:
- Love meant earning approval.
- Affection was conditional.
- Safety wasn’t always emotional.
- And talking about your problems? That was forbidden.
I became the little girl who tried harder. Who stayed quiet. Who kept the peace. Who made herself small to avoid punishment — and large to feel seen.
This carried into adulthood as what I now recognize as anxious attachment— mixed at times with disorganized tendencies. I loved hard. I craved closeness. I feared abandonment. I overshared. I clung. I overthought every message, every silence.
But recently, something shifted.
I reconnected with a man from my past with a similar background. He seemed emotionally grounded at first. Communication was his “love language,” he said. And so, I leaned in. We talked daily, shared deeply. I thought, “Maybe this time will be different.”
But then… silence. No call back. No message. Nothing.
And something inside me finally broke free.
Because this time, I didn’t chase.
This time, I noticed the red flags: his rigid parenting style, his judgment of others, his inability to offer grace.
This time, I remembered:
- Silence isn’t space. It’s avoidance.
- Tough love isn’t cruelty.
- And communication isn’t just words — it’s presence.
I realized: I am no longer the girl who begs to be chosen.
I chose myself.
And that choice — the one to stop chasing — wasn’t anxious. It was secure.
Growing up with chaos, dysfunction, or emotionally unavailable caregivers wires us to survive, not thrive.
We learn to monitor others, predict mood shifts, or hide our feelings just to stay safe. Add military life on top of that — where emotions are often suppressed — and it’s no surprise many of us walk into adult relationships feeling lost, guarded, or overly dependent.
- If your home life taught you love wasn’t safe or predictable…
- If the military taught you to suck it up and suppress pain…
You may now be navigating life with attachment wounds.
Promptful Reflections
- What messages did your family give you about love, safety, and worthiness?
- Have you confused attention with affection?
- What would choosing peace look like for you today?
Repeat After Me
Affirmation: “I no longer prove my worth through people who can’t hold space for me. I honor my healing by choosing love that feels safe, steady, and true.”
What Are Attachment Styles (and Why They Matter)?
Your attachment style is the pattern of how you relate to others, especially in emotionally close relationships.
It’s based on your earliest relationships (usually with caregivers) and can be reinforced by trauma, military culture, or toxic dynamics.
There are four main styles — and knowing yours is the first step to healing.
Secure Attachment
You grew up with consistent, nurturing love. You feel safe in relationships, express needs openly, and trust others easily.
- You’re grounded, but you still have empathy for those who aren’t.
- You might be the one your friends turn to when they’re falling apart.
Anxious (Preoccupied) Attachment
You received inconsistent love — affection one day, withdrawal the next. You learned to cling to people out of fear they’d leave.
- You may love hard and fast.
- You might overthink texts, fear abandonment, or feel like you always care more than others.
This was me for a long time. I’d pour myself into people who gave little in return, then blame myself when they disappeared.
Avoidant (Dismissive) Attachment
You were taught emotions weren’t welcome. Independence became your shield.
- You may avoid vulnerability or feel suffocated in close relationships.
- You might pride yourself on being “unbothered,” but secretly crave connection.
Disorganized (Fearful-Avoidant) Attachment
You were given love and fear from the same source. Abuse, trauma, or emotional unpredictability made connection feel unsafe.
- You crave closeness but panic when you get it.
- You might pull people close, then push them away.
This is the most complex style, often seen in those with unprocessed trauma.
So… What Now?
If you see yourself in any of these — you are not broken.
Your nervous system did what it had to do to survive. Now, you get to learn new ways to connect — ways that are safe, healthy, and rooted in your worth.
How Do You Begin to Heal?
- Learn your triggers and soothe your nervous system (breathwork, grounding, therapy).
- Create boundaries that protect your peace — not isolate you.
- Choose relationships that offer reciprocity, not emotional rollercoasters.
- Honor your story while writing a new one.
You are allowed to want love.
You are allowed to need stability.
You are allowed to heal in your own time.
If your life started in chaos, you may still be carrying survival mode into your relationships today. But healing is possible.
With awareness, support, and the courage to choose differently — you can go from just surviving to fully thriving.
I’m walking proof.
This isn’t the end of the story. It’s the start of a new one. Reinvent yourself.
Want to Know Your Attachment Style?
I’ve created a free guide + quiz so you can discover your attachment style and learn how to begin your journey forward. 👉 Free Guide + Quiz
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