Growing up in housing commission taught me survival, not safety. Each week was a financial struggle, but the real wounds came from living with a drug-addicted, emotionally abusive stepfather who made existing feel dangerous.

I learnt to keep quiet, stay small, become invisible - but even that wasn't enough protection. I'll never forget the morning when I was 14, getting screamed at because I ate cereal with a teaspoon instead of a tablespoon. The message was clear: even my smallest preferences were wrong.

By 15, I was so depressed I went to get antidepressants myself. When my mum found them, she told me to hide them better - "Don't let him see them or you'll never live it down."

Young adulthood was a blur of alcohol, drugs, and desperate searching for validation. I was terrified to speak up, so I morphed into whoever I thought the cutest guy would want. Anything to feel loved without risking rejection.

It took YEARS to replace that trauma toolkit with something better.

Meditation. Somatic work. Rage releases (though my chocolate labrador Boof tries to play attack me, so I have to do them in the car or bathroom away from him). Breathwork. NLP reprogramming.

Slowly, I built safety inside my own body.