Trauma + Healing Stories
Empowerment + Validation + Support for Trauma Survivors, one story at a time.
Your progress is not the sum of everyone else's support.
If you want to grow + expand your mindset and do something, you just have to do it and with your own motivation.
Your motivation can be seen as rock bottom. It might be that you never again want to be or feel alone. Or the way that you just did.
It could be the FINAL disappointment you faced and consciously decided no MORE of that.
Motivation does not have to be pretty.
And guess what?
Some people's reactions wont be pretty either.
What it has taken for you to change your life around, ONLY YOU KNOW.
YOU are the creator of your own LIFE story.
And whatever it takes to write a better future---> as long as it is healthy and wise ---> DO IT.
ONLY NON SUPPORTERS WILL SHOW UP TO SHADOW YOUR HAPPINESS.
And you do not need them anyways.
IF YOU ARE THINKING:
■ I DON'T HAVE THE MONEY TO CHANGE
■ I DON'T HAVE THE TIME TO CHANGE
■ I DON'T HAVE THE RESOURCES TO CHANGE
Know that the only thing going on right now is your fear is trying to talk you down.
Anxiety and depression are fighting for the SOAP BOX to tell you that your story has already been written "and it's a tragic one".
That is not true.
It is not logical.
Here's a thought that is though.
If you show up, you are bound to change.
AND SHOWING UP IS FREE.
NO ENTRY TICKET.
NO DOOR CHARGE.
If you show up for progress, you not only have a free pass but you get to choose what you take with you beyond the door.
BONUS DEAL, not everything is going to fit so you will need to travel light.
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE....
Whatever does not fit in your life simply will be too heavy to carry on your journey.
And there is no time on your ticket.
You can SHOW UP whenever you want to.
Even if it is someone else's birthday or a holiday or mid breakup or a call to get away during a time others needed you.
You earned this ticket.
Any damn time you feel like accessing it.
I decided I need to be better.
Even though I'm poor.
Even though I have depression, anxiety and CPTSD.
Even though I don't have a set career.
Even though I don't have my own place to live.
Even though it's a Friday and a random time in the year.
EVEN THOUGH MY ANXIETY TELLS ME I HAVE TO START ON THE "FIRST OF THE MONTH" IN MY PLANNER OR ELSE IT WON'T COUNT AND I WILL FAIL LIKE I ALWAYS DO.
Anxiety is kind of a c*nt.
I need money to change, but not alot.
In the reality of reality, if I ask for donations in order to help me grow ----> a simple dollar donation from someone will get me [say it with me] ONE DOLLAR CLOSER TO THE HELP I NEED].
EXPANSION AND FEARS ARE ANTONYMS HERE.
You have to strip yourself of shame, worry, and what ifs.
ANXIETY IS NOT CONSIDERED CARRY ON.
So understand this.
You CAN. NO. YOU WILL FIND THE ANSWERS, SO LONG AS YOU START ASKING THE QUESTIONS.
So... do the work.
Ask for help.
Research your options.
Type in "free resources for .....".
Email a non -profit Organization that works with Trauma + Mental Health + Education + Transformation.
Whatever your unhealthy or undesirable struggles are ----> an answer awaits you.
The solution is just to SHOW UP.
J.S. Jaded Savior
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Louder I follow the beat, one tick at a time with slow breathes to calm my chest.
I am not calm yet but I am now centered.
It is 11:11 and the third panic attack of the morning has set in. But here I am, ankles crossed and legs bare on the bathroom tile.
Leaning my weight against the wall, nestled in the nook between shower and door.
This is my place of solitude, here in the bathing room -----> where my thoughts bounce around and come to a halt as they ricochet off mattress walls to ease my anxiety down.
My trauma does not reach me here very often, so this is where I go to find peace.
I never did do well with meditation music or counselors voices.
Between the irritating tones and sound waves of relaxation that everyone else seems to enjoy, I would hear nails to a chalkboard and a condescending tone.
PTSD makes it hard for me to remember things in order.
My mind is often like a jigsaw and I have to unscramble the 4000 plum pieces to decipher where my feelings come from.
I could get lost in a 3 hour roam around target, not for the pretty dresses or cutlery sets ----> but the way my mind loses track of time all together in wide open spaces.
Nothing brought more chaos and pleasure than walking aimlessly around malls when I had deep anxiety and depression.
The fact that I had no real direction or thing to drive home with felt synonymous with my swinging moods.
And the sea of strangers that scattered about made me feel like I was not alone, while at the same time providing no single intimate moment where I would have to dig up a boundary or conquer a trigger.
Time was a weird thing.
Perhaps because I was never allowed to own time, being told where to be indefinitely ---> and that was usually my room.
It could have been minutes or hours, or months, of solitude from evening til morning every day that kept me blinded to the clock.
Lack of play dates or outings unless I was locked out on purpose.
And in those times when I fell into the wind, I had everywhere and nowhere to be til whatever time.
How much does time really matter when your personality is stifled down by trauma?
When day after day after year, you only know that the abuse is timely?
The one consistent tick is the utter dissatisfaction your parent has with your existence...
When you have PTSD you evade time in ways others just don't understand.
In one moment, you are there just staring beyond the dinner plate ---> and in the next blink, you are a 10 year old with nails tightly gripping your thighs and tears streaming down your face as the THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Of the stomping feet and the furniture crashing down to the ground startle you.
And in the next, you hear a voice that is no longer familiar but very much real. Telling you that you are ungrateful and unworthy of the things that you have. That you did nothing to earn them and you should have it all taken away.
Right back into sipping your water and shakily chewing your chicken, taking extra small bites as to not need seconds.
PTSD can be really subtle, this time traveling between moments and emotions.
It can present itself as calmness, being collected or just sleepy. It can look like a smirk and kind eyes, with a tight grip on the thighs under the table where no one can see.
PTSD makes it hard to wear a watch.
In fact, I always hated them.
Hated schedules and deadlines and calendars, without a clear reason why.
So I recently made a decision, against every fiber of my being, to use a gift card and buy a watch.
I consciously made the decision to step into the present.
I decided, in 2020, I want to master time.
Somehow, listening to the Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. has become therapeutic from the moment I first wrapped the silicone band around my wrist and pulled the tab off pause.
Now when I feel like my mind is about to leave, I focus on the ticks and all other noises just fall away.
Like a metronome.
I picture a heaviness in my wrist that anchors me to the present, and travels like a warmth through my veins within my entire body.
Hot lead, filling me up and telling me it is safe to stay.
J.S. Jaded Savior
15 years ago I was attacked by my own mother, while she was in a drunken rage and unaware of her actions. She chased me around with a knife and I put my dresser infront of my door to sleep that night, which I did very little of even though I had 9th grade exams the next day.
14 years ago, my birth father stopped his visitation with me because he was jealous I had a boyfriend [my first serious one] and didnt "love him the same" anymore. I had no idea he was back using heroine and pills.
13 years ago I got pressured by all the closest people in my life to abort my first pregnancy, to fit their agenda and "worries about my future".
12 years ago I got kicked out of my home for being pregnant, my mother and her husband changing the locks right after and taking all my childhood/belongings with them. I had no identity, no records, no parental signatures or verification to get myself into school or any legal aid. I was pregnant at the time and also kicked out of my high school as well as dumped by my ex and his whole family, as he was "given a choice to not be a parent".
11 years ago I brought all 3 legal guardians to court for abuse, abandonment, and tax fraud for continuing to claim care for me after kicking me out. I lost my case for abuse, having NO CREDIBLE EVIDENCE like "pictures of bruises or witnesses to the neglect". They denied all substance abuses and domestic violence reports I submitted. BUT I was granted legal emancipation as a 17 year old and did not have to ever see them again.
10 years ago I was in community college as a
Liberal arts student with an infant in a stroller, walking through campus and being ridiculed by peers. "Who's the dad", "SHE has a baby?!", "SLUT". Then I joined student government because of my first friend suggesting it. And it changed my life. I got the taste for leadership, personal development and advocacy. I took a Women's Studies class to fill in a gap in my schedule and AGAIN had a life changing experience. That became my major for the next 4 years after as well as my life long passion for advocacy and social connections for change.
8 years ago I thought I was thriving. I was in a University studying a major I fckng loved, in college organizations and a part of the college newspaper. I was living in my own apartment that I afforded myself because of my campus job, which I also loved. I met amazing friends. I was dating someone finally. And all felt "stable" in my life. Until my h.s. ex reached out and then WRECKED his opportunity to get to know his kid. My parents reached out and each WRECKED my mental state and self esteem. My family became more distant with me and then my boyfriend started getting weird. Detached. Scared. So he decided to plan a finding himself trip that did not really consider or include me. I stayed supportive not knowing what else to do. And that was a mistake.
6 years ago, said boyfriend took his dumb trip, came right back and still didnt know himself. Tried to propose as a constilation prize, then had a mental break down about life. So we broke up. And I for the first time I was a single independent woman with my shit taken care of. So I cut my hair, pierced my nose, let loose and started to PARTY. Have FUN. Do a little soul search myself. Soon after I took him back. We dragged thru the mud 5 more months til he confessed he was having an affair and left me. At the same time my parents were each having organ problems and brain deterioration. Each reached out again and I hit my own rock bottom mentally. Feeling alone, like my world was crashing and I had nothing good in store for me. I told myself in anger that my life was only meant to be dysfunctional and fucked up.
5 years ago I was in my senior year of college, about to graduate when I lost all final financial abilities to pay my tuition off for the semester. No more loans. No scholarships to qualify. So I started a GoFundMe. And in 3 weeks I raised $7000 by sharing my stories about overcoming obstacles, being a single teen mom in college and working my butt off. I paid my semester off but couldn't pay the summer + last amount needed so I finished up the semester and moved away. I had met someone wonderful and began a relationship with him. He was my person, a great match and someone ready to commit. We got pregnant 3 months in. Right before graduation. Right before I was to decide what comes next for funding and college. So I turned down my Masters Degree acceptance for lack of funds and i moved. Once again pregnant and leaving everything I knew AGAIN behind.
4 years ago I welcomed a baby boy, after a natural water labor + natural birth. My baby girl acting as a doula and my boyfriend there by my side. He proposed the next morning, several hours after I gave birth. I wokeup to a diamond on my finger right before going to the bathroom for the first time post delivery [fun times, now that's a push present] . My life was changed again forever. He had a business of his own and wanted me to be his partner. In work, parenthood, and life. I had left behind years of college, friendships, and personal growth to now grow a family. And for once, no dysfunction occured. No worries. Just love.
3 years ago we became pregnant with baby #2. One we both wished and planned for, our wishes answered the first month we tried. We announced at Thanksgiving how thankful we were for our family, our business, and our baby becoming a big brother. Everyone cried. It was the first announcement in my life that included happy tears and no judgement from anywhere. That year we LOVED our business, our life, and our growing blessings.
2 years ago everything crumbled. With 2 little kids, a preteen, and a super full time career ---> our marriage, parentlife and persona identities all felt the toll of never having a break or any joy in our days. All we did was work and fight. Fight to survive. Fight over emotional needs not met. Fight over our future. And again everything felt shaky. But we decided to hang in there and just keep working HARD. Hard work pays off, right?
1 year ago my husband grabbed me in his arms and said "sit, we need to talk". And my head spun as I heard him tell me we needed to LEAVE everything again. Leave the job. Leave the location. Possibly leave home. He had big debts, big stress, and personal health issues. He had watched me put my ALL into things that failed me. From business ideas to projects that fell apart, I was miserable. But I just kept pushing thru the anger and sadness. I kept saying "I hate everything". DAILY. OUT LOUD. So we stopped everything. And we went back to the house to regroup. We decided to try working from home. To give ourselves a break. And we never went back.
6 months ago I was a stay at home mom, with my only focus daily to be my kids and house chores. It was the most calm, simple way I ever lived. No dysfunction. No harm. No worries. And yet, I was in a deep depression. I cried daily. I hid in the bathroom as often as I could. I hated myself. I hated living. I felt lethargic, angry, tired, worthless, and completely burnt out.
The quiet brought on bad flashbacks and feelings, as well as old nightmares about my parents.
And then, my mom reached out. Right before mothers day and right around the time her own mom was dying in hospice. At first, she was kind and calm in her messages. She asked how I was. Told me she was happy I was ok. [She is mentally ill and an alcoholic] She told me she was planning on getting her own place after her divorce [with my abusive and narcissistic stepfather]. And she asked if she could just stay in touch by text, to know I was ok.
I was at my lowest mentally and I began to let her into my mind. My heart. I convinced myself it was a good idea to text her. To let her know I had a great life. Kids. A loving husband. Then her mom passed. And her texts to me got aggressive. Incoherent.
This lasted for a few weeks. Until one day she was super apologetic about her wrongs in life. The ones she could remember at least. And then said she couldn't go on. She made me think she was suicidal, something I had witnessed many times growing up.
And then, she stopped replying. My mind went wild. I was hysterical. Over someone I hated. But the idea of her submitting her last texts to me drove me nuts. I decided to call a local suicide prevention center and report it. I was so scared for her. Her losing her mother, her marriage and home, her daughter---> her whole life NOTHING. I felt like she was doing it for real. The center I called said they would contact her and take care of it. Hours later she responded saying she had been shopping. She asked why I sent so many freaking out texts. She had played me. So I blocked her. I blocked her emotionally. And literally from my phone.
Then I leaped onto my first Facebook live to talk about it. I made a clear decision to face my shit. Face that shit. And talk about it.
That month I began my blog about trauma. I wrote many hard, emotional stories in order to get them off my chest and out into the universe. And it all began.
Writing + daily digging into my trauma + healing all began.
I sit here now working from home daily doing WHAT I LOVE. I write, I connect with others, and I empower survivors to share their stories.
I am now working on 2 different books ---> one about my life with PTSD after prolonged trauma, the other a healing guide for Trauma Survivors.
I have lost weight + changed my diet + exchanged coffee for hemp shakes + journal and write regularly as well as use Facebook daily for spiritual and personal growth.
I have a great marriage with someone who believed in me and has encouraged me to follow this passion. He cannot wait for me to grow and prosper in it. And he now talks /pulls apart his own traumas / experiences. Something we did not expect when I dove into this field but now helps us both.
My kids now see a mom who wakes with passion + purpose. I am calmer, no longer retreat to the bathroom, and cry when I decide to write + activate those emotions for healing purposes. I make time for myself. I care for myself. And so, I am a better caretaker for them. We get out to the library and take walks together. We utilize our days to plan quality time AND my blog/healing work.
I am tackling my problems. I am remembering these hard memories and calling on my past trauma so I can unpack it with love and kindness.
I am addressing who I have been in the different stages of my life. I am setting boundaries. I am cutting out toxic people. And I am giving myself the fighting chance to improve.
I sit here now blessed to get to do what I love daily because I got myself here. Every step of the way, every hard obstacle all got me to here. And the people who loved me, mentored me, taught me, or held me under their wing for guidance all got me here. My loving husband and kids got me here. Most of all, the releasing of my own blocks has gotten me here.
It is scary to write our truths. To reveal the things that made us feel weak or pathetic. We hide under our clothing a lifetime of scars and pain. But not sharing is the vice we remain hooked to, lying to ourselves by saying it is a form of protection from the world.
To hide is not to be safe. It is to be stuck.
I do NOT want to be STUCK.
My whole past consisted of humoring all the negative, toxic, stuck people in my life.
Allowing people who either consume, tolerate or are the dysfunctional part of their own lives to JUDGE OR CRITICIZE ME was ludacris.
Allowing people who are too afraid to LEAP into healthy choices... it was hypocritical.
I will never be stuck, so long as I always remind myself that I am a fighter. That my intuition and gut KNOW what is right.
I will ALWAYS prevail, so long as I make healthy and safe choices for my life and my family.
The act of getting "unstuck" is a CHOICE.
And now, I live for movement + awareness + clarity. ♡
Your life is comprised of all these moments.
Make your next moment one that elevates you beyond who you assume you are right now.
What you only THINK you are STUCK in. Your blocks only stop you if you let them. ♡
J.S. Trauma + Healing Stories
A collective of stories about Trauma + Healing, to promote awareness, validation and support for Trauma Survivors.
Content mention of Rape, Abuse, Neglect, Addictions, Mental Illness, Kidnap, Molestation, Child abuse, Teen Pregnancy, Abortion, birth, body image, gender/identity dysphoria, sexuality, personal trauma, domestic violence and other extremely personal stories. Please practice caution. I am not a licensed physician or mental health professional. No medical prescribing is provided on this site, Only personal insights, experience stories, and advice; All stories published have had prior authorization. Questions? Contact Jean at: firstname.lastname@example.org
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