Tag: trauma recovery

When You Have No Words

A Girl In A Complex World

Sometimes the deepest feelings are the ones I can’t name. They’re too heavy, too tangled. Its like trying to hold water in your hand, impossible to get a grip.

Are you struggling to find the perfect words to accurately describe the weight of your experience? I want to tell you something that I wish someone had told me a long time ago:

Your silence does not make your experience any less real or valid.

If you’re carrying something that feels too big to share, please remember that your worth and strength aren’t defined by words, but by the resilience you show as you carry the weight of your truth. Some wounds may never be spoken of, but you can still heal, and you can still find peace, in your own time and in your own way.

Invisible Quivers

A Girl In A Complex World

Like stones thrown into a lake, trauma creates ripples in the water that change not only its still, glassy surface but reverberate all the way through its flourishing ecosystems underneath. These microscopic quivers are often invisible, but present nonetheless—settling into the bones, minds, and memories of every survivor who’s known them.

When these ripples are born from multiple traumatic experiences, they can collide into chaos or build upon each other in strength – powerfully reshaping the ways a survivor sees themselves and the world around them. They can shift how one experiences their body, pain, touch, and even comfort; how they interpret and respond to danger, intense emotions, relationships, sensory input, and subtle reminders of that trauma; and how they’re seen by others. It can be difficult to disentangle the natural ebb and flow of the water’s currents from the ripples made from a downpour of stones.

Despite all the waves and wreckage, just as a lake remains beautiful, inviting, and a calm respite to all who wish to visit, survivors retain their beauty and resilience in spite of their trauma. Their healing isn’t about how quickly they can return to serene stillness after all that rocky hail, but in recognizing the unseen tremblings underneath, and finding ways to create harmony in concert with their movement. To those on the water’s edge, just as we respect nature’s quiet endurance, we should offer the same respect to those who’ve experienced trauma—tossing fewer stones and perhaps adding a few more reeds to ease a quivering shoreline.

💦💙🐟

(Author Unknown)

Is Surviving A Testament Of Strength?

A Girl In A Complex World

I ventured outside today. Not because I wanted to though. The last thing I wanted to do was put a coat and boots on to go walk around in the snow. I went out because I needed to. I’ve barely moved from the couch in 3 days. This year is not off to a good start.



First, we had the first-ever earthquake here in Central Newfoundland. Very minor. But there has never been an earthquake here. Then we had a major 3-day storm. Our driveway was washed out and our roof had some damage. Thankfully it was minor. Then I ended up spending 9 hours in the ER, for dehydration.

Through all of that, I’ve been struggling just to keep breathing. CPTSD has been kicking my ass. Between the paralyzing panic attacks, nightmares, disordered eating (restricting, binging, purging), chronic pain, and insomnia every breath I take requires effort. Putting in effort takes energy, and energy is something I have very little of. Or maybe it’s just a lack of drive or willpower. Either way, I don’t have much of anything right now.



But today I managed to tap into something inside of me that gave me a little boost. I was wiping away tears as I was putting my boots on. The dogs were so excited to have mom play ball with them. They’ve really been feeling the effects of what I’m going through and that has created such a massive amount of guilt for me. I try and tell myself that I really am doing the best that I can right now but it feels so fake.

The fresh air was amazing though. The sound of the waves along the shore was incredibly comforting. I miss walking there with the dogs. Another reason I dislike winter so much. When I get cold it triggers my CRPS and sometimes I’m in pain for several days after. It’s frustrating. Especially when more than half of the year is cold here in Newfoundland. So outdoor activity is quite limited. It’s a big factor in the decline of my mental health once the fall months are upon us.

Today the cool air was welcomed. It wasn’t windy, which made it much more manageable. It was as if by breathing it in I was bringing back a little glimmer of life. It even energized me enough to later vacuum, sweep, and mop through the house.

It was discouraging though to find myself standing in the middle of the room, on 3 separate occasions, completely dissociated, and I had to check my phone to see what time it was. Everything has just been so surreal. Over the last year, 40 years of trauma decided to all come flooding back at once, at times leaving me completely incapacitated. It’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through. I’ve shed more tears these past few months than I have my entire life.

So yeah. It’s been tough. But I guess surviving all of this is a testament to my strength? Maybe. I dunno. But I do know that growth doesn’t always look like success. Sometimes growth involves holding on when everything just feels so damn heavy. At least for me, it does.

The old me would have given up long ago.

Be Gentle

A Girl In A Complex World

Another restless night, tossing and turning, yearning for relief from the pain that’s raging in both legs and head. The demon of pain strikes much harder when vulnerabilities are high.
Tired.
Emotionally drained.
Quesy from a day of unhealthy erratic eating.
Cold.

Be gentle …

The demon of self contempt emerges from the shadows, tempting me to engage in the game we so often play. He pounces on me. Stupid! Fat pig ... More derogatory comments about being fat and choosing a Dairy Queen ice cream over black coffee. WEAK.

My quivering voice whispers, “Be gentle …” in return.

Be gentle …

You precious soul. I see you. I feel your pain. Breathe through it. I am with you.

Demons become angry, cursing me for allowing the presence of gentleness. Get out, they growl. How dare you show up here NOW. You’re too late. The damage is done.

Grief comes out of the shadows. Too much has been lost, she weeps.

Anger bursts forth, with vengeance. DON’T you dare give in. Gentleness doesn’t belong here.

Be gentle …

Out of the shadow creeps memory. Thoughts of the nightmare start toppling over one another. My body shivers and shakes, building momentum by the second.

Be gentle …

Fire shoots at me from the demon of harm. New pain sears it’s way into the flesh of my upper thigh and I gasp, breath catching in my throat.

Be gentle…

You darling child. I see how much it hurts. Here, hold my hand. Give me that flaming dagger. Let it go.

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23)

Heavenly Father sits beside me on the cold tile of the bathroom floor and together we watch the demons fade into the darkness at the sound of His voice.

Be gentle.

This Can’t Be All There Is

A Girl In A Complex World

I raise my hands and bow my head
Searching for truth in words written in red
They tell me that there’s more to life than just what I can see …

Well, I can’t quote the book, the chapter or the verse
But you can’t tell me it all ends with a slow ride in a hearse
You know I’m more and more convinced, the longer that I live
That this can’t be …

No, this can’t be all there is.

God? I’m Scared.

A Girl In A Complex World

Me: God, I’m scared. I’m trying so hard not to be, but I am.

God: I know, my child. Do you want to talk about it?

Me: No, not really. Besides, you already know everything. Talking isn’t going to change it.

God: Let’s talk about it anyway. We’ve done this before.

Me: I know. I’m just so tired. I should be stronger than this. I can’t seem to get anything right.

God: *waiting patiently, never annoyed.*

Me: I’m just so tired. I’m never going to figure out how to live and manage all this. Its too much. I’m scared that I’m going to crack under all this pressure. My heart has never felt so broken before. I’m afraid that my attempts to recover are actually going to be what kills me. I’m afraid that I’m not strong enough to cope with it all. I’m afraid of the things I’m having to process in therapy. I’ve spent years acting as if my nightmares are just that – things in my imagination. I have tried so hard to make it all go away. Its what my whole life has revolved around. But all that energy put into avoiding has been for nothing because here I am, having to stare it straight in the face.

God: Anything else?

Me: EVERYTHING ELSE.

God: Remember the other day when the smoke alarm was beeping in the kitchen and Buddy came running across the house?

Me: Yes.

God: When you heard him running, you started calling out to him before he even got to you … remember? Do you remember what you called out to him?

Me: I said, “You’re okay! You’re okay! Mommy’s right here.”

God: Why did you call out to him? Why didn’t you just wait until he got to you?

Me: Because I wanted him to know that I was here, and I heard him, and he didn’t have to be afraid because I was right here.

God: Exactly. I hear you, my child. I hear your thoughts racing like Buddy’s little puppy feet down the hallway. There’s another side to all of this and I’m already there. I’ve seen the end of it. And I want you to know that as you walk through all of this, you’re going to be okay. I haven’t turned my back on you. I’m right here. I always was and I always will be.

Me: *crying* Can you just wait here with me for a while until I calm down? Can you hold me and cover me in your peace before I go back to facing it all again?

God: There’s nothing I’d love more. ❤