Trauma + Healing Stories
Empowerment + Validation + Support for Trauma Survivors, one story at a time.
You cannot have a healthy life if you are busy building your house with mud.
If everything every negative person throws at you, you honor as bricks.
Your foundation is only created with honesty, transparency, and awareness.
Those are three different fundamental ingredients in building a healthy YOU.
Though linked, they serve entirely different purposes in your life.
Honesty is the tool we use to differentiate between right and wrong.
Transparency is the way we paint that truth for others to see.
Awareness is the way we paint it for ourselves.
You cannot keep picking up mud from others when they do not have a foundation to even stand on.
No amount of money can buy the ground in which I talk about standing on.
No experience in the world can fabricate it, unless you apply what truths you have discovered to your personal growth.
In the end, we are all a sum of our truths.
I decided that my truths had to be painted across my whole life.
I had to reveal to people what my struggles really are.
As someone with PTSD, I am often stuck in my own past truths.
The stories that came along with the beginning of my life.
I have only been building that foundation for 29 years, 28 of which I spent worried about what people might think.
What will people say if I tell them my present? My past?
If who I am feels empty of a sense of "home" because trauma taught me how to live life on the streets.
Always with no strings attached and ready to burn bridges.
With a paintbrush in one hand and a match in the other.
I never wanted to believe other people's bullshit and baggage ---> infact my hypervigilance made me see the mud beneath their fists, their elevated heartbeats and loud thoughts.
I grew up around people who did not know the concept of truth.
Mental illness made my parents believe in stories that never even happened while running out scenarios they never could remember.
That is what addiction does.
What schizophrenia did.
Paint pictures on the wall of mud caves and convince them it was a mansion.
I chose early on to not fall for illusions but that kept me fearful of building something for myself.
I always questioned if I was capable of making my own dreams come true ----
Or if PTSD just kept me stuck as little girl making sandcastles in the sand.
At 29, I've had an awakening.
I've woken up to realize that sand was just mud.
And all I have done is sat around squeezing it through my fingers like a stress ball to ease my anxiety.
I have come to realize, through education and healing, that those people who gave me mud were not sitting around laughing.
That would be rational.
When someone throws constant judgement and criticisms at you, tries to tell you who you are for you and dismantle your chances of happiness-----> they do not have the capability or awareness to stop. Or say sorry.
Sick people cannot apologize for misleading you.
Guess what they lack?
Mud flingers have no foundation.
How on earth do you expect them to help you create yours?
So what is the solution?
The ironic thing is we often learn the hard way.
Through struggle and awareness, we realize we did not need anyone else.
Growing up, I had very little encouragement to follow my dreams. My life was kept very sheltered and controlled.
But I grew only as big as the tank that held me every single time.
Now I know I need to stop expecting tools or encouragement from broken people.
I can be resourceful AF on my own if I'm not sitting around waiting for others, especially those surrounding me, to build my life.
I know what it takes.
Sitting with my truths. Speaking my truths.
Brick by brick.
Until I arrive at the life I love, in full cognizance of the things that made me become healthy and whole.
J.S. Jaded Savior
There comes a point in your life when you realize that enough is enough.
You are NO LONGER WILLING to be a participant in the wreckage of a love story, in the enablement of abuse, in the blood ties of parent and child that raised you up with a distorted sense of self and normalcy.
You are NO LONGER WILLING to be somebody else's
That girl who let those things occur, her time card has been BURNED.
I invite you to embrace the FLAMES.
To watch how all the false promises, deceitful reassurances, and "please don't leave me's" light up in sparks and turn into nothing but ash in the wind.
An awakening is happening and it is lighting up all of your senses... can you feel it?
Let the wave of flames take you over and the deep emotional aches become contractions of change.
It is time you walk the fire.
And only a soul who embodies the Phoenix, of transcendence, will complete the journey unscorched.
J.S. Jaded Savior
Being a Trauma survivor, I have had major issues with:
➸ IRRATIONAL FEARS
➸ LACK OF AUTHORITY
➸ LACK OF FAITH
➸ LOSS OF SPIRIT
☣☠ Trauma had me convinced I was not "normal" and that everything was dangerous or suspicious.
When someones' body language or voice or facial expressions gave me a hint of discomfort or sense of suspicion, I immediately withdrew myself from them or the situation.
But a lot of times I was just being triggered and feeling uncomfortable due to something I did not want to confront.
Maybe it was insecurities about myself or a lack of personal growth in a certain area, a weak spot I just refused to confront.
But all I knew was my gut was saying HECK NO -- BACK UP.
I wish I could go back to those moments, like pin tacks on a map in a murder hunt marking all the places I died a little inside.
All those significant little blips on a map that killed off my ability to trust, grow or learn.
I did not know that resistance could keep me from personal growth.
All I learned growing up in a dangerous and abusive household was that I had to steer clear of anything that put me in a position to be hurt. Whether physical, mental or emotional pain was about to take place.
I felt those triggers and pains frequently. When you have a parent that yells, throws china at the wall and tears down the entertainment center in a drunken rage on a nightly basis, you quickly develop an understanding of why some of the smallest and sweetest looking animals have quills.
Danger is lurking everywhere when you are in the land of predators, and even your own biological parents could potentially take you out.
As I grew, that fear and distrust built a wall around me.
Though I would have labeled myself as outgoing and sociable at the time, I realize I had a LOT of symptoms of PTSD and depression.
I kept myself at bay and kept the people in my life convinced I was ok by being an overachiever.
I also tried to have an eternally happy disposition all the dang time. Regardless of what was in my path, everyone saw me as successful and capable. As someone who evaded the path of pain trauma leaves people with. Because I applied myself. Because I was out doing things.
But I did things that served my comfort zones, not my true goals.
I just skated safely in the area of what I truly wanted.
I tried to fit in and keep myself busy.
I spent money on looking the part and being the role I felt I needed to be in order to pass as fine.
As happy and well adjusted.
The truth was hidden in what I did when no one was around.
In the ways, I could not be alone or in when I was alone and just crumbled in my emotions.
The truth was hidden in the times I did not cry or felt numb at things that are appropriately sad or scary.
And more so at my complete self-reliance because I could not let people in to care for me.
I had to prove I could do things all alone.
I had to prove that I could be more than a statistic or a stigma as a teen mom and then a single mom in college.
I was successful and I did A LOT. I wanted to work and go to classes full time. In fact, I piled way too much responsibility on myself and then in my free time went out or hung around friends ---- because I did not want to be alone with myself in my little apartment.
The silence and the darkness would eat at me and I would have flashbacks, panic attacks, deep depression and spirals.
My chores would pile up and my responsibilities would crush me every single time we had a vacation or off time from classes.
I did not know how to lean into myself or who I was. I was hollow when I actually humored my thoughts. I did not know who I was past the many things I was constantly doing.
And so everything reflected that.
Tons of unfinished projects and things that needed to get done pushed to the side all to appease my comfort zone.
Taking way too long or putting off the hard things.
I finally had to face it all this year when I finally experienced quiet --- lack of chaos and that long list of things to do --- and that made me very quickly hit rock bottom.
Realizing my lack of trust, lack of hard experiences or avoidance of hard things ----> It all pushed a rage and depression out of me that I never experienced before.
And suddenly once again I did not know who I was when I looked in the mirror.
Every day I literally said out loud that I hated everything.
"I hate this..." I would cry out... " I hate myself.."
And that mood would rub off on my partner, my kids.. my work..
I finally had to face myself.
And do something unexpected.
I had to admit my flaws and my truths.
To admit the bullshit...and STOP all the spiraling thoughts about not being good enough.
The truth was, I was just living in a constant loop of self-destruction but finally got so exhausted I gave up altogether. For a few days I did not shower, did not want to eat, and could not be near anyone. I did not want to have to even get out of bed. Or talk to my kids.
It was fucking hard and shameful.
But I am so thankful now I leaned in and let it happen.
I allowed myself to let go of control and chaos.. to just FALL. HARD, ON MY FACE.
And then.... like an instinct kicking in, I was able to get back up.
I got up enough to wash myself and have a hard F*cking cry in the shower.
Then I made a conscious decision to change.
Not just my mindset and my present time, but my story.
So I sat at the computer and I started to type.
I wrote out feelings and memories.
I cried all the way through it.
But I just kept writing and pouring out my soul.
And in that out pour came inspiration for my new path.
Finally the right direction.
With honesty, vulnerability, and healing that I never before realized were the pieces missing in who I was.
I realized I needed to find myself in words where my own mind could not keep them trapped or confused.
A place to write and RELEASE.
IT has been a few months now and a NEW season since that meltdown.
And I can truly say I feel 100 years ahead of who and what I was then.
I have learned since that those bullshit traits I was trying to convince myself made up who I was were just that -- bullshit reactions to TRAUMA. My brain was trauma trained since childhood and I never knew better.. not until now.
And now that I am informed, being educated daily and living intentionally with the purpose of healing and growing ---> My soul is ignited with such purpose and LOVE.
All the excuses in the past and fears I had are just falling, as I molt those old identities and truths.
Truth is I no longer need them.
Where I am heading, who I am stepping into literally has to pack light.
I have no room for :
➸ TRUST ISSUES
➸ CONTROL ISSUES
➸ RESISTANCE ISSUES
➸ IRRATIONAL FEARS
➸ LACK OF AUTHORITY
➸ LACK OF FAITH
➸ LOSS OF SPIRIT
My heart is so full every day of:
And I cannot sell some PILL, CLASS, PROGRAM, OR BEVERAGE to provide just made these things.....
I did not drink a Koolade or find a magic potion.
I made a promise to myself and then I honored it.
That is how my healing journey began.
Now my gratitude reminds me daily that it is SO easy to change.
To be reborn.
And I am forever changed, with motivation to write and so many stories yet to be told.
J.S. Jaded Savior📷
J.S. Jaded Savior
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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