Why I Share My Story Online Writing about trauma is a deeply personal decision. For some survivors, putting their experiences into words can become part of the healing process. Sharing my story online was not about reliving the past, it was about making sense of it, finding my voice, and letting others know they are […]
How I’m Healing and Growing With CPTSD
Living with CPTSD and trauma, you often move through life so carefully that you forget who the real you is, or sometimes, you never even get the chance to know who you were, because the events happened so young. You shrink yourself, tuck away pieces, and survive, but it comes at the cost of feeling […]
What Being Human Looks Like with CPTSD
Armor, Bruises, and the Red Alert Life Living with CPTSD, I often wonder how other people see us. And what it actually means to be human for us. For me, being human with CPTSD feels like walking around wearing invisible armor while also nursing invisible bruises. I can be laughing at a joke, or cracking […]
NYC Grit and Healing: Living with CPTSD
The Survival Instinct of New York In New York, survival isn’t optional; it’s the baseline. If you want something here, you don’t wait politely in line; you slide into the gap before someone else does. (If you’ve ever stood on a subway platform at rush hour, you know: hesitation equals death. Or at least, a […]
The Strengths I Gained Living with CPTSD
Living with CPTSD: The Daily Struggle Living with CPTSD can be debilitating. I have written a lot about the challenges it’s thrown my way, the many sleepless nights, the constant hypervigilance, and the emotional landmines that can appear out of nowhere. All things that can take over your life in ways you’d never imagine, and […]
Getting to Know My IFS Parts
IFS stands for Internal Family Systems, and no, it’s not about your in-laws or your Wi-Fi setup. It’s a therapy model based on a pretty wild but surprisingly comforting idea: we’re not just one “self.” We’re a whole system of selves, or “parts,” each with its own voice, its own job, and its own emotional baggage. […]