Season 1 Episode 9 “Am I following in my Mom’s footsteps.”

Empower Inward is a deeply personal podcast about turning inward to understand how our earliest experiences shape who we become. Hosted By Deb RN and edited by Jordan, this show explores childhood trauma, grief, loss, addiction, faith, and emotional resilience through honest storytelling and compassionate reflection.

 Each episode gently unpacks lived experiences-both painful and transformative-while connection them to nervous system healing, inner child work, personal responsibility, and spiritual grounding. This is not about blame, it is about understanding, compassion, and reclaiming your voice.

Whether you are healing from trauma, navigating relationships, or simply longing to feel whole, Empower  Inward offers a safe space to pause, reflect and begin again--from the inside out.

Don't forget to post your questions and stories on our reddit! r/InwardBoundShow

Transcript

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Welcome back to the Empower Inward. I'm Deb, your host. Before we begin today's episode, we want to share a quick update. Many of you first knew us as the Inward Bound Show. As we began the process of trademarking the name, we learned it had already been trademarked years ago. Out of respect for that, we chose a new name that reflects our deeper mission. Empower Inward. While the name has changed, the heart of the podcast remains the same: healing, growth, truth, and discovering the strength already within you. Sometimes life redirects us to something better. Before we begin, I want to take a moment to share a gentle disclaimer. In this podcast, I speak openly about trauma, loss, and healing. My goal is to share my personal journey, not to offer you medical or psychological advice. Please listen with care, be mindful of your emotional state, and take breaks or seek support if any part of this episode brings up different feelings. You are not alone, you are safe here, and I honor you for joining me. If parents had known better, they may have done better. They may not have known better then, I choose to know better now. The cycle did not break when they changed. It broke when I did. By the time the third marriage happened, our home had become a place of instability, confusion, and emotional survival. Divorce was not just papers being signed. It was another wave of disruption crashing through a family already carrying wounds. After that split, it seemed like everything became looser and less protected. People came and went, boundaries blurred. Chaos felt normal because chaos had been normal for so long. My brother and I had begun making choices that came with severe consequences. Looking back now, I understand we were not simply rebellious kids. We were hurting kids trying to find relief, belonging, or escape in the only ways we knew. There were moments during that season that no child should have to had witnessed or carry, situations involving drugs, fear, confusion, and experiences I did not understand at the time. I carried shame for things that were never mine to carry. What I know now is this: when pain goes unnamed, it often begins to guide decisions. I did not realize it then, but I was entering a season where I was searching for love, freedom, identity, and something to numb the hurt underneath it all. That season became what I now call the summer of love. If you only looked from the outside, it may have seemed like fun, excitement, and wild choices. But underneath it was a young woman trying to fill wounds she did not yet know how to heal. As the last chapter of that season of my life closed in podcast nine, I thought I was stepping into something new, something that might finally bring stability and a sense of belonging. Like many young women who have been through chaos, I was searching for a place where life might finally feel safe. Not long after, my life took another turn. I stood in front of a Justice of the Peace and got married. At the time, it felt like the natural next step, the beginning of building a life with someone, the beginning of something that I hoped would be different from the past. But as I would eventually learn, some decisions we make when we are young are not always built on understanding. They're built on hope. By the time my mom signed the papers allowing me to get married, my mind was already made up. I believed I was stepping into a new life, one that would take me away from everything I had known growing up. After my mom signed the papers, we went downtown to the Justice of the Peace and got married. I remember feeling excited, not so much about the wedding itself, but about leaving home and starting something new. I was wearing a simple summer dress that day. There wasn't a big ceremony, no crowd of people, just a moment that felt like the doorway into a different life. At the time, that felt like enough. The excitement wasn't about the wedding. It was about the idea that my life was finally moving forward. Looking back now, I realized how young I really was and how little I understood about what marriage truly meant. What felt like freedom then was really just the beginning of a journey I couldn't yet see. Not longer after that quiet moment at the courthouse, we moved into our first place together. A small single-wide trailer in a rough part of town. And that's where the next chapter of the story begins. As we settled into the life after getting married, there were small things that I didn't question at the time. Details that only made sense much later. Before we moved into that little trailer, there was a car he had been driving. I remember spending time that summer out in the front yard washing it. It felt like part of our life back then, just another ordinary thing. But when we moved into the small trailer next to where he said his uncle lived and where he supposedly worked, something strange happened. The car just disappeared. I never saw it again. And even though he talked about his uncle and working with for him, I never actually met the uncle either. At the time I didn't stop to question any of it. I was young and still believing the story that had been presented to me. Looking back now, those small missing pieces were quiet signs that things were not what they seemed. Those early days in that little trailer held more unanswered questions than I realized at the time. And the story was only just beginning to unfold. About a week after we moved into the little trailer, something happened that left me confused and uneasy. About a week after moving into the trailer, I saw my husband digging out behind the trailer. When he came back inside, I asked him, What were you doing? He told me he was bearing a gun. I remember standing there not even knowing what to say or what to think. He was supposed to be at work all day pouring concrete. But when he came home, he wasn't even dirty. That made me start wondering what he really was doing all day. At the time, I didn't have the life experience to fully understand what I was seeing. Looking back now, moments like that were quiet clues that the life I thought I had stepped into was very different from the one I had imagined. Living in that trailer was beginning to raise questions in my mind. Questions I didn't yet know how to ask. By the second week of living in that little trailer, the reality of the place we were living was starting to settle in. Around that time, I received the money from a small bond my father had bought for me when I was born. I remember thinking that I needed to get a car so I wouldn't feel stranded there at that trailer. I didn't feel safe being stuck there all day. That road was busy with foot traffic, all kinds of people walked up and down it throughout the day. Some of them were openly doing drugs in the middle of the day, others pushed grocery carts that looked like everything they owned was inside of them, like they were living out of those carts. Sitting there alone during the day, watching all of this happening outside, made me realize how much I needed a way to leave whenever I wanted to. Looking back now, I can see that my instincts were already trying to protect me. Even though I didn't fully understand the situation I had stepped into, part of me knew I needed some independence and a way to get away if I had to. So with that small bond money my father had bought for me years earlier, I decided to buy a car. Something that would give me at least a little freedom during that time. There just happened to be a small car lot right across the busy street from where we were living. One day we walked over there to see what they had in our price range. That's when they showed us a really cute Mustang. It was bright orange with white pinstripes. I immediately liked it. There was only one problem: it was a stick shift. And I didn't know how to drive a stick. My husband told me, I'll teach you how to drive it, so I bought the Mustang. Not long after we got the car, he started talking about wanting to move to Oregon so we could live near his family. Looking back now, the car represented more than just transportation to me. It was a small piece of independence during a time when I was beginning to feel uneasy about the life I had stepped into. At the time, moving to Oregon sounded like another fresh start, but I had no idea how much that decision would shape the next chapter of my life. The idea made me nervous. All of my brothers and sisters were still here, and I knew I was going to miss them. Even though I was scared to leave, I told myself that I could always come back and visit. That thought helped me accept the idea of moving. So we packed up what little we had and started to drive to Oregon. Looking back now, I realized how much courage it took for me to leave everything familiar behind. His mother's house sat right on the coast of Oregon, backing up to the beach. When I saw it, I remember thinking how beautiful it was. The ocean, the air, the view. It felt almost like heaven compared to where we had been living. I remember thinking to myself, I really like it here. Later that evening, his mom and stepdad came home from work and I met them for the first time. Right away, I felt comfortable around them. I could tell they liked me and that made me feel welcome. We stayed with them for a few months. Looking back now, there is something else I remember from that time. His mother would say to him right in front of me, You better never hurt her or I'll whip your ass. She said it more than once before we moved out. At the time I really wasn't sure why she kept saying that. Looking back now, I sometimes wonder what she may have already known or seen that I didn't yet understand. At the time, I simply felt grateful to be somewhere that felt peaceful and welcoming. For a little while, life on the Oregon Coast felt calm and beautiful, but that peace would not last forever. While we were living with his parents on the Oregon coast, life slowly began to feel different than I had first imagined. As the weeks went by, tensions started to grow in the house. My husband never got a job. Instead, he would spend his days fishing or gone doing things I really didn't understand. His mother, on the other hand, worked long hours as a truck driver. To do my part while we were living there, I kept the house clean. I wanted to help in any way I could since they had opened their home to us. I knew the cleaning helped her, especially with how hard she worked. Looking back now, I can see the imbalance and responsibility was already creating strain in the household. At the time I was simply trying to do what I thought was right, contribute where I could, and keep the peace. Even though the ocean outside the house felt peaceful, inside the house the tension was quietly beginning to build. After a few months of living with his parents, another change came. Somehow my husband came up with the money to rent another trailer for $75 a month. So we moved into the little trailer and my mother-in-law helped me set the house up. It was actually a cozy, cute little place on the Oregon coast. The beach was within walking distance. He told me he had gotten a job and he would be gone during the day and come home in the evenings. Many nights he would bring home meat for us, salmon, venison, and one time even a wild pig. That pig was something else. It smelled absolutely horrible. Later I learned that when he gutted it, he had broken the bladder. He kept insisting it was fine. So one night I tried cooking it, but the smell filled the entire house. It was terrible. Finally, I convinced him that I was not going to eat that meat. After that, he threw all the pork away. Looking back now, that little trailer by the ocean held moments that almost felt normal: cooking meals, setting up a home, walking distance to the beach. But even in those moments, there were things that didn't quite make sense about the life we were living. At the time, I tried to focus on simple things, the ocean air, the little trailer, and the hope that life was settling into something stable. After we had been living in that little trailer for a while, things in the relationship began to change. He started to not come home at night. One evening, two friends of his came over and asked if he was home. I told the girls he wasn't. They asked if I wanted to go out with them. They said you always stay home. At first I told them no, but they kept talking until I finally agreed to go. I asked them where we were going and they said there is a party and a bonfire up in the mountains. So we went. When we pulled up to the party, I looked across the fire and there my husband was, sitting there with his arm around another girl. I was furious. Before I even thought about it, I jumped over the bonfire and landed right on the girl. When he realized who had just jumped on his friend, he ran off up the mountain. I ended up knocking the daylights out of her. After that, she left and we stayed and finished out the night at the party. I didn't see him again that night or even the next day. When he finally came home, he denied he had ever been with her. But I knew better. I had seen them with my own eyes. Looking back now, that moment showed me just how the relationship had already started breaking down. At the time I was reacting out of anger, hurt, betrayal, trying to make sense of what I had just witnessed. That night at the bonfire was one of the first times the truth about our relationship came crashing into view. After the night at the bonfire, life moved forward, but the questions in my mind never fully went away. He kept denying everything I had seen that night, and eventually I let it go. The truth was I didn't really have anywhere else to go. I had already made up my mind that I wasn't going back to my mom's house. Time went on and his life continued to feel mysterious. I never saw a paycheck from any job. Then one day he came home and said, Guess what? I bought a fishing boat. He told me he was going to start commercial fishing and sell the fish to the fishery. From then on, that's what he said he was doing every day. Not long after that, I told him I wanted to go visit my family for a few weeks. I missed my family. He agreed and bought me a bus ticket. I traveled back to Las Vegas and got to spend time with my family. We had a really great time together. But eventually those few weeks came to an end and it was time for me to return to Oregon in the life I had started there. Looking back now, that trip home reminded me how important family was to me and how much I had already left behind when I moved to Oregon. By the middle of that summer, a piece of home came to Oregon to visit me. My younger brother and sister wanted to come stay with me for a little while in Oregon. I told them, of course, they could come. And I promised them we would have fun. When they arrived, my husband even started taking my younger brother out fishing with him. At first I thought it was a great experience for my brother, and he seemed to enjoy it, but one day he told me he didn't want to go fishing anymore. He said he would just stay home with me. At the time I didn't think anything of it. Not long after that, someone told me my husband was cheating again. I learned he had been taking another girl out on the boat fishing, and sometimes they would spend the night out there. When I found that out, I kicked him out of the house. With my brother and sister there, I knew I had to step up. So I went to apply for a waitress job. The truth was I had never waitressed before. When the manager asked if I had experience, I told him yes, I lied. But I needed that job, and once I got it, I learned quickly. My brother and sister would even walk me back and forth to work each day. It was about a mile from the house. Looking back now, that moment forced me to find a strength inside myself I didn't know I had yet. With my younger brother and sister watching me, I realized I had to take control of my life and protect the people around me. That summer in Oregon became a turning point, a moment where I began standing on my own two feet for the first time. One evening after I had gotten the truck back from him, I decided to go visit his grandmother with my younger brother and sister. The kids really enjoyed his family, and his grandmother was always kind to us. While we were visiting, she asked if we wanted to go to the movies. I told her I hadn't received my first paycheck yet and didn't have the money. She said, no, no, I want to give you the money so you can take your brother and sister to the drive-in. So we went. When we pulled into the drive-in and found a spot, I looked over a few cars down and there he was, my husband, sitting there with his girlfriend. He saw us too, and almost immediately he left. In that moment, something inside me shifted. Seeing him there made the truth impossible to ignore any longer. Right then I made up my mind that I was leaving Oregon. I didn't even know exactly where I was going yet, but I knew I could not stay there any longer. That night at the drive-in became the moment I quietly decided that my life was about to change directions again. After the night at the drive-in, when I decided I was leaving Oregon, it still took a little time before I could actually make that happen. I stayed for a few more weeks and saved enough money to get us back to Las Vegas. I made sure my younger brother and sister got home safely with their dad. All in all, the kids had a great summer, and that meant a lot to me. After taking them back to Vegas, my cousin happened to be in town and invited me to go to California with her. So I went. While I was there, my uncle asked if I wanted a job helping fix up a barge. The plan was to take it by tug to Santa Monica, and he wanted me to run the galley for him. I said yes. That next summer I worked on that barge. If I wasn't working or sleeping, I was fishing. It ended up being one of the best summers I had ever had. For the first time in a long time, I had my own space, even my own room and bathroom. Looking back now, that summer gave me something I had been missing for a long time: a sense of freedom and peace. After everything that had happened before, that season on the water felt like a fresh start and a glimpse of what life could feel like when things finally calm. Just when life had begun to feel peaceful working on the barge, something unexpected happened. Somehow, my husband found out where I was. One day, the Coast Guard came over the radio asking if I was there. They said someone wanted to talk to me and gave my uncle a phone number. The next time I went to shore to do some shopping, I called the number, and sure enough, it was him. He talked and talked, telling me how sorry he was and promising that nothing like what had happened before would ever happen again. He was even crying. Somewhere in that conversation, I began to feel guilty. And before long, for reasons I still question today, I agreed to go back to Oregon. Looking back now, I can see how powerful guilt and hope can be when someone you care about promises things will change. So after finally finding peace that summer on the water, I made the decision to return to Oregon, believing that maybe things really could be different. After I returned to Oregon, we got an apartment in town and started over once again. His mother helped us get the apartment set up, just like she had helped us before. She seemed so happy that I had come back. Many days while my husband was at work, she would stop by and pick me up so I could go ride with her in the logging truck while she worked. Those rides gave me time to really see what kind of woman she was. She was incredibly strong and hardworking, and I admired her more and more each day. During one of those rides, she opened up to me about how my husband had been raised. She told me his father had pushed her down a flight of stairs when she was eight months pregnant. She said he would hold a shotgun on the children and make them sit on the couch, threatening them if they moved. They were told to stay there, be quiet, and watch TV while he controlled the house with that gun. She had three children with him before she finally found a way to leave. She told me he tried to track her down after she left, but she was strong enough not to go back. Listening to her story helped me understand the strength it took for her to survive what she had lived through. It also helped me see where some of the pain and patterns in my husband's life may have begun. Those rides in the logging truck became more than just time spent together. They became lessons in strength, survival, and the kind of courage it takes to walk away from violence. For a short while after moving back to Oregon, things seemed calmer, but only a few months later the old patterns began to return. After a few months, his behavior started slipping back into the same patterns. This time when I would threaten to leave, he would hit me. There were also times he would come home accusing me of cheating on him. I had never cheated on him. One night he came home holding a picture of a man. He told me he had beaten that man up because he believed the man was the person I had been cheating with. I remember standing there shocked, trying to understand what he was saying. Then he pulled out a gun and fired it into the ceiling while yelling. That I was cheating and that this was what I had caused. I was terrified. I don't think I'd ever been that scared in my life. Looking back now, that moment showed me just how dangerous the situation had become. Fear had fully entered the relationship, and I was beginning to understand that the promises of change had not been real. That night left a mark on me, a moment where the reality of the violence I was living with became impossible to ignore. After the night he fired the gun into the ceiling, fear became a constant presence in my life. I was too scared to leave him. He had told me he would find me and I wouldn't like what would happen if I tried to go. So the months went by. One morning he came home through the front door after being gone for a few days. Right away he started accusing me again of cheating. Before I even had time to react, he began hitting me and pushing me back through the house toward the bedroom. As I stumbled into the room, I looked down and saw a steel tube from a vacuum cleaner lying on the floor. In that moment, something in me shifted. I picked up and swung it. I hit him with that tube all the way back out the door. After that day, he never hit me again. Looking back now, that moment was the first time I truly defended myself against the violence I had been living with. It showed me that somewhere inside me there was a strength that had been waiting to surface. That morning changed something inside of me, a realization that fear did not have to be the only way I lived. By that point in the relationship, his behavior had become so unpredictable that I had almost grown numb to it. Then one morning there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, two federal officers were standing there. I invited them inside. They began by telling me that my husband had been arrested. They said he had stolen 26 cases of dynamite from a storage site in the mountains where it was used to clear land. They went on to explain they knew I wasn't involved. They told me they had actually been watching him for quite some time. As I sat there listening, everything started to make more sense. While he was sitting in jail, I made a decision. I left Oregon and went back to Las Vegas. Looking back now, that moment felt like the door finally opening for me to leave a life that had become dangerous and unpredictable. When I got back to Las Vegas, my mom was single again. She told me I could stay with her and start my life over. So that's exactly what I did. After working for a while, I bought myself a brand new Camaro. I stayed with my mom for about six months while saving money to get my own place. During that time, I filed for divorce. Eventually, the judge ordered my husband to sign the papers, and I was finally granted the divorce. Not long after that, I began dating someone new. One day we stopped by my mom's house to pick something up. As we were driving away, I noticed a Jeep coming up behind me very fast. Suddenly I realized who it was, my first husband. I pressed the gas and we were suddenly in a high-speed chase. I managed to get far enough away to drop my friend off. He caught up with me again. Then my phone rang. It was him. He said if I didn't come back to him, he was going to kill himself. I told him to go ahead because then I wouldn't have to worry about him bothering me anymore. Looking back now, that moment showed just how desperate and dangerous the situation still was, even after the divorce was final. Even though I had legally ended the marriage, it was becoming clear the story with my first husband was not completely over yet. About six months later, he found me again. He contacted me and asked if I would meet him in a public place. I told him no. What I couldn't understand was how he kept finding me. For a long time it didn't make any sense. Eventually I discovered how it was happening. My mom's ex-husband knew my ex-husband. When he would ask my mom where I was, she would tell him. Then that information eventually made its way back to my ex. Looking back now, realizing how he kept tracking me down, explained a lot of fear and confusion I had been living with. It showed me that sometimes the people around us don't fully understand how dangerous the information they share can become. Now I want to do a reflection into my first marriage and possible family relationship patterns. It is very common for people to look back on their first serious relationship or marriage and wonder whether it reflected patterns they witnessed growing up. When children grow up around difficult and unstable relationships, their brains often learn what love and partnership look like from those early examples. Number one, familiarity can feel like love if someone grows up seeing chaos, instability, or emotional pain in relationships. The nervous system can sometimes interpret similar dynamics later in life as normal. People may not consciously choose unhealthy partners, but familiarity can feel comfortable because it was what the mind recognizes. Number two, the rescuer pattern. Many people who grow up around struggling adults learn to become helpers or stabilizers. They may try to fix problems, forgive repeatedly, or hold relationships together even when the situation becomes harmful. Number three, staying versus leaving, an unhealthy relationship is rarely simple. Fear, financial dependence, isolation, or threats can make it extremely difficult. Many survivors remain longer than they wish because they are trying to stay safe while figuring out a way out. Number four, breaking the pattern. One of the most powerful moments in many life stories is when someone finally chooses a different path. Finding the strength to leave, rebuild, work, and start over can become the point where a family cycle begins to change. Was I repeating my mother's story? See you in the next chapter. My story started in trauma, but my path became one of awakening. I pray something in each of the in power inward reminds you of your own strength, your own wisdom, and your ability to rise and heal with your higher power alongside of you. As you move forward, take a moment to honor yourself. You showed up, you listened, you allowed your spirit to be witnessed. That is powerful. If something in today's episode touched your heart, I invite you to carry it with you. Let it guide you and let it soften the places that still ache. Healing is not a destination, it is a returning. Again and again to who you truly are. Thanks for being here, trusting me with your time. Until next time, keep walking inward, keep listening to your spirit, and keep choosing yourself. Empower inward isn't a retreat, it's a return, a return to truth, a return to parts of us we learn to silence. If this chapter resonated with you, honor that. There's nothing to fix right now. Healing begins with noticing, not repairing. Awareness is brave, slowing down is brave, listening is brave. In the next episode, we're going deeper into the patterns, the moments, and the truths that often go unseen but shape everything. If you're ready to understand your story in a new way, I'll meet you there. This is Empower Inward. Always remember the two most important relationships, in my opinion, in our life is the one we have with our higher power, which is God for me, and the relationship you have with yourself. I am a licensed life coach as well as a practicing RN. Any questions, please text me at deb at empowerinword.com. Big shout out to my editor, Jordan. I'm going to close by sending you more love, peace, joy, and happiness. God bless.