Chaos Was My Teacher, Healing Became My Revolution
- lindadanon
- Apr 3
- 4 min read
My past stopped being a wound and became a compass. It didn’t happen to me—it happened for me.
Alcohol was part of my life from a very young age. Not because I drank, obviously, but because my dad was an alcoholic.
I have very few clear memories from my childhood. Most are repressed, buried under the need to survive in a home where chaos was the norm. And I say survive because that’s what I did—I survived however I could. Part of that survival meant forgetting.
But some scenes are tattooed in my memory. One of them, like a cursed movie playing on loop, was my dad in the study. His huge '90s stereo blasting José José or Luis Miguel, cigarettes burning, a bottle of tequila on the table, feet propped up on the wooden cabinet.
And the whole house holding its breath. Sometimes he wore headphones—as if that made it more bearable. Most of the time he didn’t.
No one said anything. What could I say at 8 years old? How could I confront him when I didn’t even understand what I was feeling? Fear. Confusion. Loneliness. Sadness.And above all, a deep feeling that something was wrong with me. That I was broken.
And so I began to realize—though not consciously—that my father’s alcoholism didn’t just hurt me when he was drunk or when my parents fought. His addiction got inside me. It became a part of me. It shaped my personality before I ever had a chance to decide who I wanted to be.
But I didn’t know that until recently. I didn’t know I wasn’t alone. That millions of people like me—children of addicts, children from dysfunctional homes—grew up feeling the same. Developing the same defense mechanisms, the same patterns, the same thoughts about not belonging, not being enough.
Once I understood that we become what we think, it all clicked. I realized why I kept attracting the same betrayals, the same heartbreaks, the same pain. My thoughts were recreating my story over and over again.
Growing up that way wasn’t easy. And yes, I found ways to escape. I didn’t become an alcoholic, but I definitely used alcohol to numb the pain. To feel “normal” for a few hours. To fit in. To fake happiness.
And it’s not that I wasn’t happy… but I also can’t say that I was.
For a long time, I lived in survival mode, asking myself over and over again, “Why did this happen to me?”But at some point, that question stopped making sense. Instead of fighting my story, I began to look at it with new eyes. I stopped resisting the pain and started asking what it was trying to teach me. That’s when everything shifted.
My past stopped being an open wound and became a map. I realized I wasn’t broken—I was waking up. And every part of my story—even the darkest ones—could be turned into light, if I chose to give them purpose.
But the feeling of not belonging was still there. The insecurity. The need for validation. The indecisiveness. The savior complex disguised as love… all of it. I had grown, but I was still stuck in many patterns.
Then one day, I looked at my daughter. And in that moment, I saw myself. I saw a story that could repeat. A nightmare forming. And I knew, with absolute clarity, that only I could break the cycle.
At the same time, my professional life felt stuck. I wanted to teach everything I had learned, everything that had transformed me… but it felt like no one was listening. And that hurt.
That moment with my daughter changed everything.
I realized there was still a little girl inside me, crying out to be seen, loved, and protected. And I also realized I wasn’t alone. There were millions like me. That’s when I found my voice. My message. My people.
That’s how Hijos del Caos was born.
I know this story sounds sad. And for many years, it was. But today, it’s not. Today, it’s a story of transformation. I have a beautiful family—including my dad, now in recovery. And
I have a mission.
To create a community for people like me. For those children who grew up in silence, in fear, in shame. Who became adults carrying pain they didn’t know how to name. For all those children of chaos who think they’re broken. Who believe healing, forgiveness, and transformation aren’t possible.
This podcast is for you. This community is for you. This voice is for you—and for me.
And today, I want to invite you to be part of it.
And one last thing. For those of us who grew up like this, asking for help is hard. But I know you know someone like me. Someone who needs this. Please share it. That small gesture can change a life.
Thank you for being here.
With love,
Linda
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