The List and the Plan: How I Finally Saw the Truth and Started Climbing Out

In 2023, I was still trying to save something that was killing me.

I was knee-deep in counseling sessions, desperate for clarity. Desperate for something that would help me make sense of what I was living in—because none of it made sense. One of the first counselors I saw that year tried to introduce the idea of a trauma bond to me. I’d heard the term before, but I didn’t understand it in the way I really needed to. And honestly? The way he framed it only made things worse.

His recommendation was that I go to AA. He wanted me to stand in a room full of addicts and alcoholics and say, “Hi, my name is Jennifer, and I’m addicted to relationships.” And I lost it. Because I knew, deep down, I wasn’t addicted to relationships—I was stuck in this one. And it wasn’t just emotional. It was something else entirely. Something I didn’t have language for yet.

Now I do.

Trauma Bonding Is Real

What I didn’t understand then is that trauma bonding is a literal chemical addiction. It’s not just emotional attachment. It’s your brain getting hooked on the cycle of highs and lows—of being love bombed, then devalued, then discarded, then hoovered back in again. It’s the unpredictability that messes with your brain chemistry. It’s the same pattern that makes people addicted to slot machines.

Sometimes, things would be good for two weeks straight—and I’d feel so much hope. Like maybe we’d finally turned a corner. Then out of nowhere, bam. Total blowup. I would collapse emotionally. And every single time, it took about three days—three full days—to regulate my nervous system enough to function again.

That unpredictability kept me in a cycle where I believed if I could just figure out the pattern, I could avoid the punishment. But there was no pattern. There was only control. And I was the one being controlled.

The Yellow Paper: “What Would It Take to Make Him Happy?”

Eventually, I did what I do—I made a list. I sat down and tried to write out what it would actually take to make this man happy. What would it look like if I just surrendered completely and did everything he wanted?

And this is what came out. No exaggeration.

The Yellow Paper List: His Ideal Life (According to What I Was Living)

• Keep my mouth shut

• Keep my kids quiet and out of the way

• Keep the animals controlled

• Do all the housework to his standards and not require anything from him

• Allow him to play Xbox as long as he wants

• Never require any financial contribution that doesn’t specifically benefit him

• Never celebrate special occasions

• Never go out on fun dates

• No vacations (unless I pay for it)

• Never call his hand on anything

• Treat his kids like my own, do all the parenting for him and allow him to treat mine like slaves

• Allow him to spend his money however he wants without question

• Allow him to use my car and leave me with nothing

• We cannot share finances

• I cannot speak about my needs or frustrations

• I must feed his ego with constant praise

• Never let him feel shame or guilt

• Don’t make him angry—because I’m responsible for his anger

• He can say whatever he wants and not be held accountable

• If he talks about our future, I must act excited—with no expectation that it’ll actually happen

This was the unspoken agreement. This was the box I was trying to survive in.

And no—he would never agree that this list reflects what he asked of me. But that doesn’t matter. Because this is what it felt like. These were the conditions I learned I had to meet in order to avoid punishment. In order to be tolerated. In order to hold onto crumbs and call it love.

My needs? Didn’t exist.

My voice? Was too loud.

My kids? Were a nuisance.

My value? Depended on how well I fed his ego.

And still… I wanted to save it. I wanted to believe that if I could just figure it out—I could fix this.

The Plan: My Way Back to Me

Thankfully, I found another therapist—one who did get it. One who helped me create not just goals, but action steps.

We started in April 2023 with a six-month plan. A way forward. A way out.

And here’s what that looked like:

The Plan (April 2023)

1. I will be stable in my income insecurity. I will learn, build, and trust the plan that leads to freedom.

2. I will be happy more days than not.

3. I will feel more peaceful and rested.

4. I will be able to think clearly.

5. I will be able to speak what I want without fear.

6. I will know what boundaries are necessary and I will enforce that path.

That was the climb. And let me tell you—I’m still climbing. But I’m proud. I look at this list now and I see how far I’ve come.

I’m doing #1. I’m working hard every day to get to full freedom.

I’m getting there with #2 and #3.

#4—being able to think clearly—came with a BRUTAL cost.

#5—I nailed that. I speak now. And I speak loud.

#6—I’m learning. I’m holding the line more and more every day.

Breaking the Bond Is Like Breaking an Addiction

And here’s the thing: just like with drugs, one “hit” can set you back completely.

That’s what makes trauma bonds so hard to break. It’s not that you’re weak—it’s that your brain has been hijacked. And your heart keeps hoping. But I’m not romanticizing it anymore. I’m not calling pain “love.”

I don’t have hope in him anymore. But I do have truth.

And I’m building a new life on that truth.

Final Word:

That list on the yellow paper? That was the cage.

The plan? That was the ladder.

And now, here at the end of July 2025, I don’t have the hope anymore—not in him. But I do have truth. And I’m building a new life on that truth.

And I need you to know—I am so proud of me.

Yes, it took years.

Yes, I fell down many times.

Yes, I relapsed and fell for the hoover.

But every single time, I got back up.

And every step forward was a step forward.

Even if some people think I should’ve gotten out sooner—let them think that.

They weren’t there in my nervous system.

They didn’t feel the addiction, the rewiring, the unraveling.

They didn’t have to rebuild their mind, body, and spirit from the inside out.

But I did.

And I am.

I’m still working the plan—every single day. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

And if you’re watching me from the sidelines and recognizing pieces of yourself in this—

I hope you know that what you’re seeing is proof.

Proof that it can be done.

Proof that it’s never too late to choose yourself.

Proof that you don’t have to stay in the cage.

I fought my way out, and now I’m not in that cage anymore.

I’m free.

If you’re staring at your own version of “the list” right now, just know—you’re not crazy, you’re not broken, and you’re not alone. You don’t have to live in that box forever. Start with one step. One truth. One plan. Your freedom is waiting.

* Note: It takes the average victim 7 attempts to fully leave an abusive relationship. Be gentle with yourself. Every step forward counts.