

The journey to recovery from addiction, trauma, and mental health challenges is intensely personal, yet deeply interconnected with the dynamics of one’s family. For siblings Alyson Stoner and Correy O’Neal, growing up in the same dysfunctional and abusive home led to distinct, yet ultimately convergent, paths toward healing. Their candid conversation reveals how shared family trauma can manifest in unique struggles—from disordered eating and addiction to hyper-perfectionism and homelessness—and how the rediscovery of a trusted, body-centered approach to recovery became a cornerstone of their reconciliation.
The experience of growing up in a home marked by divorce, addiction, and daily abuse from their stepfather created a fundamental sense of division and fear for both siblings. However, their methods for coping with the traumatic environment diverged significantly, highlighting the intensely individual nature of a trauma response.
For Alyson, whose professional career began at age seven, the response was immersion in work. “Mine was to just work more,” they shared. This form of hyper-independence and reliance on external achievement served as an escape, sweeping them away from the daily fear and dysfunction at home. Conversely, Correy’s response was to escape physically and mentally, retreating to her room to create “her own little world” away from the danger downstairs. This isolation was compounded by a sense of loneliness despite having people in the house, a common experience in dysfunctional family systems.
The siblings revealed a heartbreaking truth: their in-home communication about the abuse was non-existent. Alyson recalled a “triangulation” orchestrated by the parents, where they would share negative information about the siblings to pit them against one another and change their view of Correy’s “behavior, as if there were problems that I should never try to repeat and create.” This manipulation drove a wedge between them. Correy, feeling a “justice oriented” impulse, was often more interactive with the abuse, attempting to intervene, yet they “never really talked about it.” This highlights how a highly dysfunctional home can isolate children, even those sharing the same bedroom walls, leading to individual survival strategies rather than mutual support.
The experience of abuse was made profoundly confusing by the classic cycle of abuse, which involved a daily pattern of violence followed by denial and a forced return to an illusion of a happy family. The stepfather would often “pretend that nothing happened or he denied everything,” leading to significant gaslighting and confusion.
Correy noted that this cycle eventually became “clockwork,” where the abuse happened nightly, but “the morning was like this forgot.” This forced return to normalcy, including being “forced to kiss him on the lips,” created a devastating facade that the children were compelled to maintain.
As Alyson shared, any outward affection from the abuser was met with a demand for reciprocation, “be punished if we don’t reciprocate,” further muddling the children’s understanding of love and safety. For a child, this confusing environment fails to “set up the best train of thought into how somebody else will be treating me in the future and how I’m allowed to respond to it,” leaving them without a model for healthy relationships or boundaries.
Another deep source of trauma for both siblings was the manipulated relationship with their biological father following the move and divorce. Correy, as the oldest, felt lucky to have had “the most time with him” before the move, noting him as the “only person that I can reflect back on that was reliable.” However, the “rules in our California home” demanded they maintain a “facade of perfection” which included the expectation that they cut their father off. As a child, concerned about safety, Correy felt she had to comply, cutting off the one person she believed to be truly trustworthy.
Alyson, who was much younger, was presented with a “completely different narrative about who he was,” leading them to grow up “not trusting him at all” and perceiving him as someone who didn’t care enough to see them. This manipulative narrative around a loving parent is a severe form of psychological abuse that isolates children from a vital source of support.
Years later, Alyson’s adult decision to seek a “rounder picture” by getting their father’s input led to a tender moment when he showed them a “pile of news clippings and articles and different things that reminded him of my the personality he knew I had, at least as a little one.”
Correy also revealed a powerful, hidden memory: “My dad sent me a cell phone, so I had an Ohio cell phone number, and he said, if we ever need him to call.” This phone, a forbidden lifeline, was a “physical representation” of his attempt to provide a secure attachment despite being actively kept away, a testament to the powerful, protective bond he sought to maintain.
Despite growing up with distinct coping styles, both siblings’ young adult lives were marked by similar struggles: addiction, disordered eating, and hyper-perfectionism. They recognized that the chaotic and substance-filled environment of their childhood home had established a “paradigm around using something to feel a certain way or get a certain thing,” which was “pretty deeply embedded in the house.” They saw escapism modeled through “substance,” “yo yo dieting,” and the ubiquitous presence of “alcoholism” and “pills” as the only adult methods for “dealing with life.”
| Struggle | Manifestation | Rooted in Trauma |
| Disordered Eating | Focused on body image to meet external industry expectations (Alyson); used as a tool alongside substances (Correy). | Modeled family use of food/exercise for feeling a certain way; seeking control in an uncontrollable environment. |
| Substance Abuse/Addiction | Used as a “fast solution” and a numbing tool (Correy); avoidance and escapism. | Modeled adult use of substances for avoidance; seeking to cope with emotional pain. |
| Hyper-Perfectionism | Maintaining a facade of “buttoned up and PR ready” at all times. | Trained obedience to protect Alyson’s career and the family’s image; fear of negative outcomes. |
The most significant barrier to seeking help was the rigid control over their image. Correy recounted a chilling moment of self-harming “as a hope to be seen and helped,” only to be told, “put long sleeves on.” This reinforced the absolute necessity of the exterior facade, actively shutting down any possibility of discussing struggle or need for support. This is a clear example of how a family can condition a child into a maladaptive response to trauma.
For both siblings, the decision to pursue recovery was not a single, courageous moment, but a desperate, gradual sequence of decisions made at rock bottom. Alyson described the severity of their situation as a “life or death decision,” where they finally realized they wouldn’t make it unless they did something different. Their path was one of “micro steps of just having a flash of insight, recognizing something needs to change, looking for a resource.”
Correy’s rock bottom involved a physical escape at age 17 after she experienced physical assault and attempts to get help from school counselors and CPS failed. Her “first step in wanting something different” was leaving, an event that culminated in all her clothes “in garbage bags on the front lawn.” This act of being forced out, followed by a period of homelessness—living in her car, afraid to be too far from her neighborhood—was a “crumbling.”
“I hit a rock bottom with an eating disorder. I hit a rock bottom with, um, a substance abuse addiction. I hit a rock bottom. Like with relational addictions,” Correy recalled. Her ultimate turning point was a realization: “If I have no joy, then what is all this for?” This profound question forced a significant change in both environment and behavior.
The siblings’ shared experience of being treated like “adults” or being expected to “figure it out” created a profound sense of hyper-independence. Correy described herself as the “figure it out person” and “the oldest daughter,” a role she “had to be.”
When a child is relied upon—whether as an emotional support, a confidante, or the primary income earner—they are forced into a premature parental role. This creates a deep-seated inability to ask for help, a key symptom of a trauma-induced coping mechanism.
The absence of competent adult modeling meant they had to constantly “figure out, so what is healthy then? What is functional? What does healing look like?” They relied on searching Google and reading books rather than consulting a human, demonstrating the lasting distrust in the reliability of other people. The “concept of my friends wanting to go to a relative for advice was not something that I could relate to,” Alyson admitted, underscoring the lack of a reliable, guiding “manual” in their lives.
The final, beautiful convergence of their recovery paths was through somatic-focused, body-centered tools. Alyson started exploring these tools to address health issues and physical symptoms that standard mental health approaches weren’t alleviating. They noted that their body actually did remember their father to be trustworthy, even when their mind, clouded by the false narrative, did not.
Somatic psychotherapy focuses on the mind-body connection, helping individuals process and release trauma stored in the body by tuning into physical sensations. The body, the nervous system, and not just the mind, hold the imprints of trauma. By reconnecting with their physical selves and processing the physiological responses linked to traumatic experiences, they found a path to healing the root cause of their anxiety, hypervigilance, and emotional numbness. This shared, body-centered healing language became the “shared experience” that allowed them to finally tiptoe their way back into communication and reconcile, realizing they had been healing in parallel.
The siblings’ story is a powerful illustration of the systemic nature of addiction and trauma recovery. When one person in a family unit struggles, it affects everyone, and similarly, true healing for one often requires a systemic shift that influences others.
Alyson and Correy’s journey from isolated survival to shared recovery offers a profound message of hope: even when two people live through the same trauma, the path to healing will look different, but it is possible for those paths to converge in a powerful and redemptive way.
Correy, now a parent, spoke movingly about how having her own children has become a form of “therapy,” allowing her to reparent herself and give “so much more grace to my younger self.” She and Alyson also found a shared mission in service as co-founders of Movement Genius, leveraging their lived experience to build global campaigns centered on human well-being. This pivot to service is a form of post-traumatic growth, transforming their pain into purpose and building the support they never had for others.
Their decision to share their story publicly, together for the first time, not only validates their experiences but offers a crucial resource for others. It emphasizes that individual recovery is valid, even if it looks messy, and that the ultimate goal is not perfection, but a genuine, joyous life forged from the ashes of trauma.
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