How to Turn Pain into Power and Escape the System
- Brainz Magazine
- Aug 29
- 4 min read
Updated: Oct 22
Written by Lindsey Leavitt, Transformational Coach
Lindsey Leavitt is a transformational coach. Her expertise stems from her lived experience of abuse, mental illness, and chronic pain. Lindsey's transformation has inspired her to utilize her knowledge and abilities as an artist/musician to advocate, empower, and lift others.
In "How to Turn Pain into Power: Escaping the System," Lindsey Leavitt explores the profound journey from victimhood to empowerment. Born into a system of control, shaped by the Church and her father’s abuse, Leavitt navigates the complex web of trauma, obedience, and fear. Through radical acceptance, observation, and strategic reclamation of autonomy, she transforms her pain into power, ultimately rewriting the rules of her own life. This article delves into the intricate process of turning suffering into strength and liberation.
The architecture of control and power
Power is rarely accidental. It is designed. It is engineered. It is precise, relentless, and merciless. From the pulpit of the Church to the walls of my home, I learned early that authority thrives on contradiction.
The Church promised salvation but delivered fracture. My father promised protection but delivered terror. Together, they orchestrated a system of dependency, a machine that thrived on my compliance.
Control is never neutral; it requires crisis. The Church manufactured crises, then prescribed the cure. My father manufactured fear, then offered protection from himself. Crisis was not an accident; it was a strategy. The line between care and coercion blurred until I could no longer tell them apart. Instinct was punished. Obedience was demanded.
I did not see it as abuse at first. I saw it as inevitable. When every path leads back to the system, you stop believing in exits. You stop trusting yourself.
“I was a subject under observation, a mind mapped by authority, a body measured by expectation. My every gesture was data in their experiment.”
The horror I carried
The abuse was hidden, camouflaged in ritual, in silence, in loyalty. My mind shut it down to survive. But the body remembers what the mind buries. Flashbacks emerged like sudden blackouts, fragments of a narrative I was never allowed to tell. Images struck without warning. Sensations dragged me backward in time. My body screamed truth while my mind begged for denial.
Academic Insight: Trauma is not simply pain; it is restructuring. It is systemic. It alters the nervous system, recalibrates fear responses, and rewires survival instincts. Dissociation is not weakness; it is an adaptive strategy. The psyche builds escape tunnels when the body cannot. What looks like fragility is often the architecture of endurance.
The Church taught me that obedience was a virtue, but my nervous system knew otherwise. It translated terror into vigilance, vigilance into silence. Every act of compliance costs me another fragment of myself.
“Obedience and fear became indistinguishable. Every bow of the head, every forced prayer, every whispered ‘yes’ took something from me that I could not get back.”
Paradox as liberation
The Church taught absolutes: purity or sin, obedience or damnation, loyalty or exile. My father mirrored the same extremes: protector and predator, guide and jailer.
But absolutes collapse under scrutiny. Paradox became my doorway out. Freedom required embracing contradiction: the very tools of captivity became weapons for my liberation.
Radical acceptance, the idea I never learned from Church or family, revealed itself years later like a forbidden book hidden on a shelf. Acceptance was not resignation; it was revelation.
I could hold all parts of myself, even those branded sinful.
I could integrate trauma without erasing the pieces that carried it.
I could reclaim agency from systems designed to strip it.
Neuroscience Insight: Radical acceptance decreases hypervigilance, interrupts the cycle of self-condemnation, and rewires the brain’s fear responses. What once triggered collapse instead triggers analysis. Trauma transforms from a weapon against the self into a map for survival.
“I was not a sinner. I was trained to believe I was. Recognition was my rebellion. Acceptance was my revolution.”
The strategy of reclamation
Survival became a strategy game. If power was engineered, then so was my resistance.
Boundaries as shields: I severed ties with the Church, and with family members who enforced its silence. Distance became armor.
Observation as intelligence: I studied systems the way they had studied me. Manipulation stopped feeling mystical and started looking predictable.
Integration as weaponry: The fragments of memory became data. The horror became instruction. My very symptoms became evidence.
Autonomy as power: Each choice became deliberate. Each action is self-directed. Each emotion claimed as mine, not theirs.
“The system built me fractured. I rebuilt myself whole. They trained me to obey; I learned to strategize. They made me dependent; I became sovereign.”
The Machiavellian lens
Trauma taught me tactics. Fear became intelligence. Compliance became a signal. Pain became a map.
From a Machiavellian lens, survival is not random; it is a strategy. Those who endure captivity develop fluency in power’s architecture. Every manipulation is an insight. Every crisis is reconnaissance. Survivors are not weak; they are tacticians forced to master the game from inside the cage.
Checklist for Liberation:
Identify the mechanisms of control.
Recognize the crises manufactured to enforce reliance.
Reclaim agency in every domain of life.
Transform trauma into strategic intelligence.
“I survived because I understood the logic of captivity. I rose because I mastered the language of oppression. Knowledge was my sword. Acceptance my shield. Awareness my armor.”
From horror to sovereignty
I emerged not merely unbroken, but weaponized. I dissected the Church, my father, my family, not only as perpetrators, but as case studies, as blueprints of systemic control. Survival became my foundation. Autonomy became my reward. Pain became power.
I do not forgive because they deserve it.
I do not forget because I must remember.
I am free because I now play the game on my terms, and I write the rules.
“What once disoriented me now sharpens me. What once enslaved me now instructs me. What once broke me now crowns me.”
Read more from Lindsey Leavitt
Lindsey Leavitt, Transformational Coach
Lindsey Leavitt is a transformational coach. She is certified in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT). The model focuses on emotional regulation, distress tolerance, and mindfulness. Lindsey battled with anxiety and depression throughout her life. She implemented various therapeutic modalities, but none were effective. Finally, Lindsey implemented the DBT approach, which changed her life forever. Now she is helping others take back their power, regain control of their lives, and start living an abundant life.
