Content note: This article includes discussion of childhood trauma, addiction, suicidal ideation, self-harm, abuse, grief and recovery. Please read gently and take care of yourself. This content is not a replacement for therapeutic support.
In this deeply moving conversation on Riding the Trauma Train, Lydia speaks with Abby Teixeira about trauma, addiction, recovery, motherhood and what it means to break generational cycles in real time.
Abby’s story is one of survival, self-discovery and profound courage. She shares openly about growing up in a home shaped by violence, addiction and intergenerational trauma, and how alcohol became a way to numb pain that felt impossible to carry. But this conversation is not only about what happened. It is also about what healing can look like after years of survival.
At the heart of this episode is a powerful truth: trauma is not something people simply “get over”. Healing asks something much deeper of us. It asks for compassion, honesty, support and a new relationship with ourselves.
Trauma does not just live in the past
One of the most important ideas Abby shares is that trauma is not only about the event itself. It is also about what happens inside the body afterwards.
For many people with complex trauma, the past does not feel neatly contained. It can show up in the nervous system, in relationships, in emotional flashbacks, in people pleasing, in dissociation, in freezing, in fawning and in the ongoing search for safety.
Abby describes these responses not as flaws, but as intelligent adaptations. They were the ways her body and mind learned to survive. That reframing matters. It shifts the story from shame to understanding.
Healing, then, is not about becoming the person you would have been if trauma had never happened. It is about learning how to live with more awareness, support and self-compassion in the body and life you have now.
When addiction becomes a survival strategy
Abby speaks candidly about being introduced to alcohol as a teenager and discovering, for the first time, a way to switch everything off.
For someone carrying anxiety, depression, confusion, grief and the effects of ongoing abuse, alcohol felt like relief. It numbed the pain. It created distance from thoughts, memories and feelings that felt unbearable. What began as escape became a deep addiction that lasted more than 15 years.
This part of Abby’s story is especially powerful because it challenges the moralising language that so often surrounds addiction. She does not describe addiction as rebellion, recklessness or failure. She describes it as survival.
When there are no tools, no language for pain and no real support, people will often reach for whatever gives even a moment of relief.
That does not make addiction harmless, but it does make it understandable.
The grief that so often goes unseen
Another important thread in this conversation is grief.
Trauma recovery is not only about processing difficult memories. It can also involve grieving the childhood you did not have, the care you did not receive, the parent you could not rely on, the years lost to survival and the version of yourself that had to disappear just to cope.
This kind of grief is often misunderstood. It is not always dramatic or visible. Sometimes it is quiet. Sometimes it appears in waves. Sometimes it returns when you least expect it.
Abby speaks about this with honesty and tenderness. There is no rushing in her words, no pressure to tie healing into a neat ending. Instead, she offers a more truthful picture. Healing is layered. It spirals. It ruptures and repairs. It changes shape as you change.
Recovery means facing both trauma and addiction
For Abby, trauma recovery and addiction recovery could not be separated.
The addiction was a symptom of deeper pain, which meant that healing could not happen by addressing only the drinking. She had to begin meeting the trauma underneath it. That was terrifying at first. If alcohol had been the thing keeping painful memories at bay, what would happen when it was gone?
That fear is something many survivors will recognise. Letting go of a coping strategy, even a harmful one, can feel frightening when you do not yet trust that you can survive what comes next.
Abby shares one of those early moments in recovery after the sudden death of her grandmother. The urge to numb everything came crashing in. But with the support of her husband, she stayed with the grief instead of reaching for alcohol. By the next morning, she realised something important: she had survived the storm.
Moments like that do not erase pain, but they begin to build trust. They show that feeling is possible. They show that survival does not have to mean shutting everything down.
Healing in community
One of the most hopeful parts of Abby’s story is the way healing began to deepen in community.
After years of believing she was the only one, she found herself sitting in safe, intentional circles with other survivors. In hearing their stories, something shifted. Shame loosened. Isolation softened. The burden of feeling different began to lift.
This is one of the reasons conversations like this matter so much. Survivors often do not need perfect words or identical experiences. They need spaces where someone else says, “Me too,” and means it.
Community does not take the pain away, but it can make the healing journey feel more possible. It can remind people that they are not broken, not too much and not alone.
It is also no accident that Abby now creates those kinds of spaces herself. The support that helped her begin healing became part of the work she now offers others.
Motherhood, repair and breaking cycles
The conversation also explores what happens when healing and parenting unfold at the same time.
For Abby, becoming a mother brought a whole new layer to recovery. It asked her not only to keep healing herself, but also to think carefully about what she wanted to pass on and what she wanted to end with her.
She speaks beautifully about the practice of repair in family life. Repair means taking responsibility when harm has happened. It means apologising, naming what went wrong and helping a child feel seen and safe again.
This does not come from perfection. It comes from presence and accountability.
For many survivors, parenting can be deeply triggering because it brings old wounds so close to the surface. It can make you realise just how unsafe it once felt to be a child. It can also show you, moment by moment, what a different kind of parenting might look like.
Abby’s approach is grounded in honesty. If she gets something wrong, she addresses it. If her children feel hurt, she makes room for that. Over time, this has created a home where her children can speak up, express feelings and expect repair.
That is powerful. Not because it is flawless, but because it is different.
Emotional safety means no longer performing
When Lydia asks Abby what emotional safety means to her now, her answer is deeply resonant.
For Abby, safety is being able to show up without performing. Without putting on a mask. Without becoming who other people need her to be.
That kind of safety can take a long time to build, especially for people who learned early on that belonging depended on hiding parts of themselves. It often involves learning to listen to the nervous system, honouring what feels off, allowing rest, setting boundaries and understanding that “no” can be a complete answer.
Emotional safety is not only about who is around you. It is also about the relationship you are building with yourself.
A message for the version of you still in survival
Towards the end of the conversation, Lydia asks Abby what she would say to the version of herself who was still deep in addiction.
Abby’s answer is full of gentleness. She would remind her that even though she feels alone, she is not alone. That hope is still there, even if it only appears as a tiny glimmer in the distance. That healing is possible. That one day, all of this will make sense in a new way.
It is a beautiful reminder for anyone still in survival mode now.
You may not yet be able to see the whole path. You may still be carrying pain, confusion or fear. But that does not mean healing is out of reach. Sometimes it begins with a conversation. Sometimes it begins with being witnessed. Sometimes it begins with the first small moment of believing that something different might be possible.
Final thoughts
This episode of Riding the Trauma Train is a powerful exploration of what trauma can do, but also of what healing can make possible.
Abby Teixeira brings honesty, tenderness and clarity to subjects that are often shrouded in shame. She reminds listeners that addiction can be rooted in pain, that trauma recovery is complex and lifelong, and that breaking cycles is not about getting everything right. It is about choosing awareness, responsibility and compassion, again and again.
For survivors, for mothers, for those navigating recovery and for anyone trying to build a safer relationship with themselves, this conversation offers something precious: truth, hope and the reminder that healing does not have to happen alone.
About the Guest
Abby Teixeira is a trauma recovery guide, speaker, mother of four and cycle breaker who shares openly about healing from childhood trauma, addiction and self-destruction. Her work centres on truth, compassion and community, helping others reconnect with themselves and move towards healing in supportive spaces.
Find Abby on Instagram:
@speak.the.truth.with.abby
Connect With Lydia
Instagram:
@ridingthetraumatrain
Email:
lydia@info.ridingthetraumatrain.co.uk
If this conversation resonated with you, share it with someone who may need the reminder that they are not alone. You can also follow Riding the Trauma Train for more trauma-informed conversations, or message Lydia on Instagram to share what this episode brought up for you.
If this topic feels close to home, please take a moment to ground yourself and reach out for support if you need it.