Samson Society, Franklin, TN (2025)

11/27/2025

As we celebrate Thanksgiving today, we want to take a moment to acknowledge something powerful: the gift of gratitude.

Recovery is not an easy journey. Each day we confront behaviors that once offered comfort but ultimately caused harm. And yet, even in this challenge, there is something to be thankful for: our ability to choose differently, to grow, and to connect with others who understand our struggles.

Gratitude doesn’t mean ignoring the pain or pretending the journey is easy. Instead, it’s a conscious choice to recognize the progress we’ve made, the support we’ve received, and the hope that exists even in small victories. Each step toward awareness, each moment of restraint, and each act of courage is worthy of acknowledgment.

This Thanksgiving, we encourage each of us to pause and reflect on the things we can be grateful for—our resilience, our commitment to growth, and the men walking this path beside us. Let gratitude be a fuel, not just for the holiday, but for the daily work of recovery.

May this season remind us all that even in the midst of struggle, there is hope, there is connection, and there is progress.

11/26/2025

Many of us don’t realize how much of our adult lives are shaped by the child within us who still aches to hear one simple message: “You are enough.”

Even now—years later, with jobs, families, responsibilities—we may still find ourselves bending, overperforming, people-pleasing, or shrinking to avoid conflict… all in the hope that maybe this time our parent(s) will see us, choose us, approve of us.

It’s not immaturity. It’s not weakness. It’s the nervous system’s memory of a truth we learned early: Love felt conditional. Belonging felt fragile. Approval felt earned.

So the child inside keeps trying because children are hardwired to believe that if they can just be good enough, calm enough, helpful enough, successful enough… then the love they needed will finally come.

But here’s the painful, liberating truth: The approval you’re chasing now won’t heal what happened then.

Not because you don’t deserve it—you do. But because the longing belongs to a younger version of you who didn’t get the safety, attunement, or warmth they needed.

Adult you is trying to solve a wound that wasn’t created in adulthood.

And that’s where healing begins: Not by forcing yourself to stop caring about your parents’ recognition, but by turning toward the child within you—the one who had to work so hard for scraps of affirmation—and saying:

“I see you.
I’m here now.
You don’t have to earn my love.”

The more we learn to offer ourselves the presence we needed back then, the less power those old hopes have over our present.

You are already enough. Not because someone finally approved of you—but because you always were.

11/25/2025

So many of the behaviors we call addictions are, at their core, adaptations—creative strategies our younger selves built to survive what felt unbearable. When we look beneath the surface, we often find not weakness, but pain. Not failure, but fear.

R.D. Laing once wrote that human beings are afraid of three things: death, other people, and their own minds. For many of us with complex childhood trauma, these fears weren’t philosophical—they were lived reality.

Death wasn’t an abstract concept; it was the feeling that the world was unsafe, unpredictable, and that danger might erupt at any moment.

Other people weren’t safe havens; they were sources of confusion, rejection, volatility, or harm.

And our own minds became places we learned to escape from because the memories, sensations, or emotions inside felt too overwhelming to face alone.

So we found ways to numb. To distance. To disappear. Scrolling. Overworking. Drinking. P**n. Food. Endless busyness. Whatever helped us create just enough space between ourselves and the fears we never had the capacity or support to process.

If this is your story, hear this gently: there is nothing “broken” about you. Your nervous system simply learned to protect you in the best way it could with the resources you had.

Healing isn’t about shaming the coping. It’s about understanding the child who needed it.

When we approach ourselves with curiosity instead of judgment, we begin to loosen the grip of those old survival strategies. We start learning that:
• We can face the fear of “death” by building safety within our bodies.
• We can face the fear of “other people” by slowly letting in relationships that feel consistent and kind.
• We can face the fear of “our own minds” by meeting our inner world with compassion instead of avoidance.

You don’t have to fight yourself.
You don’t have to rush.
You don’t have to heal alone.

Your coping made sense. And with time, support, and gentleness, new ways of being can emerge—ones rooted not in fear, but in connection and safety.

You are worthy of that. Always.

11/24/2025

Have you ever noticed how intensely you can react when your children or partner don’t seem to listen? The intensity of that reaction often isn’t really about them — it’s about old, unprocessed experiences from childhood.

The degree to which you feel triggered now is often directly proportional to the degree you didn’t feel seen, heard, or understood by your primary caregivers. When a child’s voice was ignored, dismissed, or minimized, your nervous system learned that your feelings and needs didn’t matter. Those memories don’t disappear; they live in your body and nervous system, waiting for moments that echo that same sense of invisibility.

When someone you love seems not to listen, it can activate those old sensations of being unseen, unheard, and misunderstood. The frustration, irritation, or even anger you feel is often a signal that your nervous system is re-living unresolved experiences, not just responding to the present moment.

Awareness is transformative. Noticing that your reaction is connected to old unmet needs gives you the power to pause, breathe, and respond intentionally rather than react impulsively. Over time, this awareness allows you to break generational patterns, communicate more clearly, and create relationships where both you and those you love feel truly seen and understood.

11/22/2025

Unprocessed feelings of powerlessness in childhood can often show up as rage in adulthood.

When children experience situations where they had no control, their nervous system stores the frustration, fear, and helplessness. If these emotions aren’t safely acknowledged or expressed, they can resurface later as anger, irritability, or even explosive reactions.

Understanding this connection allows us to respond differently. Instead of shaming ourselves for feeling rage, we can ask:
▪ What unmet needs or unprocessed experiences might be underlying this anger?
▪ How can I safely acknowledge these feelings without harming myself or others?
▪ What coping strategies can I develop to process these emotions in a healthy way?

Awareness is the first step in transforming old patterns.

The anger you feel now often has a story — and noticing that story gives you the power to respond instead of react.

11/21/2025

Many of us struggle with maladaptive coping behaviors because we’ve never truly learned to feel our emotions, especially the ones that were labeled “unacceptable” in our families growing up.

The truth is: we can only regulate what we allow ourselves to feel. We can’t manage what we deny, suppress, or silence.

Anger, sadness, fear, or shame that were dismissed or punished as children often become “off-limits” emotions in adulthood. Without consciously noticing them, we create patterns of avoidance, numbing, or compulsive behaviors to survive — habits that might have helped us cope once but now keep us stuck.

Curiosity is a gentle, powerful tool to start untangling these patterns. Ask yourself:
▪ Which emotions were not allowed in my home?
▪How did I learn to hide, suppress, or avoid them?
▪What strategies did I develop to survive that may now be limiting me?

By noticing these patterns, you give yourself the opportunity to sit with your feelings, explore them safely, and understand the messages behind them. Journaling, naming the emotion, or simply feeling the bodily sensations can help transform them from threats into guides.

Over time, learning to face emotions we once silenced allows us to respond instead of react, break cycles of avoidance, and create healthier ways of coping. Each step is a small act of self-awareness and self-compassion, reclaiming parts of ourselves that were denied or neglected.

11/20/2025

Sometimes it looks like we want to control everything—but often, it’s not control we’re after.

For many of us, especially those who’ve experienced complex developmental trauma, the urge to control is rooted in early experiences of neglect, inconsistency, or betrayal. When caregivers were unreliable or unsafe, we learned that if we didn’t take care of everything ourselves, no one else would. Over time, this can become a survival strategy: micromanaging, over-planning, or taking on burdens that aren’t ours.

At the heart of it, what we’re really seeking is trust. We fear that no one else will show up, care enough, or handle things the way we need. That fear keeps us stuck in hyper-vigilance and self-reliance, making connection and collaboration feel risky.

The good news is that trust can be rebuilt, step by step:
▪ Notice when control urges arise and reflect on the fear underneath.
▪ Start small by asking for help or delegating a minor responsibility.
▪ Practice being okay with imperfection — both yours and others’.
▪ Seek relationships and communities where consistency, accountability, and care are modeled.

Letting go of control doesn’t mean giving up—it means choosing to trust and heal patterns shaped by trauma. Each small act of trust rewires the nervous system, strengthens connections, and teaches your inner child that they are not alone.

Your survival strategies were necessary once. Now, your growth comes from leaning into connection, trust, and healthy boundaries.

11/19/2025

Loneliness is part of being human — and it’s okay to sit with it.

When loneliness shows up, we often want to push it away, distract ourselves, or reach for connection in ways that don’t serve us. Instead, we can notice it without judgment. Pay attention to the sensations in your body, the thoughts running through your mind, and the emotions rising up.

Try “dealing with” loneliness in a positive way:
▪ Sit with it: Allow yourself to feel it fully without needing to act out.
▪ Journal: Write down what it feels like and what it might be trying to tell you about your unmet needs.
▪ Move your body: Go for a walk, stretch, or practice yoga to ground yourself.
▪ Practice self-compassion: Speak to yourself as you would a dear friend.
▪ Engage creatively: Draw, play music, cook, or create something meaningful.

The goal isn’t to eliminate loneliness — it’s to understand it, learn from it, and grow from it. When we do this, we stop using others as a “scratching post” for our unmet needs and instead cultivate self-awareness, boundaries, and emotional resilience

11/13/2025

It’s time to draw the line. No P**n Ever.
Because love deserves better. Because freedom is worth it.
P**n is not harmless.
It distorts love, damages intimacy, and fuels exploitation.
We’re done pretending it’s fine.
No P**n Ever is a stand for truth, freedom, and integrity. For our minds, our marriages, and the next generation.
Click the link in bio to sign the pledge and add your name to the movement.
Together, we can choose honesty over hiding and love over lust.

10/20/2025

If you catch yourself apologizing constantly—for showing emotions, for being busy, for setting boundaries, for not being perfect—you’re not weak or selfish.

For many of us, saying “I’m sorry” became a survival strategy in childhood. It was a way to stay safe when our needs, feelings, or mistakes weren’t welcomed. It was a way to smooth over discomfort, avoid conflict, or prevent rejection.

But now, as an adult, that reflex can quietly steal your voice. It can keep you small, anxious, or hyper-aware of others’ reactions. It can make it feel unsafe to simply exist as you are.

Your apologies don’t define your worth. Your feelings are valid. Your boundaries are necessary. And being human—imperfect, busy, emotional—is not a reason to apologize.

Notice when you say “I’m sorry” out of habit, and ask yourself: Am I apologizing for something I actually need to feel or set? Reclaim the space to exist without constant justification.

10/18/2025

We don’t talk enough about how the growth process is also a grief process.

When we begin to heal, we often imagine it will only bring relief or freedom. But real growth asks us to release things—people, patterns, identities—that once protected us.

You might grieve the version of yourself who didn’t know better.
Or the one who stayed small to keep the peace.
You might grieve the relationships that no longer fit.
Or the coping mechanisms that once helped you survive but now keep you stuck.

Growth means becoming someone new—but it also means saying goodbye to who you were.

That’s not regression. That’s reverence. Grieving what once was is how your system makes room for what’s next.

So if your healing feels heavy right now—if it feels like loss more than liberation—
it’s because you’re honoring everything that got you here.

And that’s sacred work.

10/17/2025

Control often disguises itself as safety.

When we’ve lived through experiences where our needs weren’t honored or our voices didn’t matter, control can start to feel like the only way to stay safe.

We control our emotions so we don’t overwhelm others.
We control our environment so we’re never caught off guard.
We control relationships so we don’t have to feel the pain of being left again.

But control, by its very nature, eliminates choice. And without choice, there is no true safety—only compliance. There is no real trust—only performance.

When safety and trust are absent, the body does what it knows best: it protects.
Sometimes that means disconnecting from others—keeping people at arm’s length.
Other times it means disconnecting from yourself—numbing emotions, silencing needs, or staying constantly busy so you don’t have to feel what’s underneath.

These protective patterns aren’t failures. They’re evidence of how brilliantly your system learned to survive a world that didn’t feel safe.

But protection isn’t the same as connection. And while control may keep you from getting hurt, it also keeps you from being fully known.

Safety grows in the presence of freedom—when you can make choices, express your truth, and still be accepted. Trust emerges not when we control others, but when we allow ourselves to be seen and still remain whole.

So if you notice yourself tightening your grip, take a breath. Ask what part of you is afraid, and what it would need to feel safe enough to loosen, even a little.

Control helped you survive. But freedom—the kind that honors choice, safety, and trust—is what allows you to truly live.

Samson Society

11/27/2025

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