We All Heal Differently
We all have our own healing paths, and none are the same. Still, we can connect to each other because of the experiences we share, our trauma, the CPTSD, all of it.
And you know, there really is something kind of beautiful in healing. To be stuck in a place that felt like there was no way out. Finally making it through to the other side feels like you’re no longer drowning. Like you can finally breathe.
The Power of a Safe Person
I’ve written about this before, but I’ve been incredibly lucky to have a best friend who’s been a huge part of my own journey. Someone who’s shown me that trust can be real, and that not everyone is out to hurt you.
It might sound simple, but when you’ve lived with CPTSD, that’s huge. It’s the kind of proof that starts to change how you see the world, as well as how you see yourself.
Ultimately, healing means slowly letting yourself believe that safety exists outside of hypervigilance, and that some people truly mean what they say.
If you want more insight into why CPTSD makes trusting others so difficult, check out this post:
https://aboutthatjack.com/why-cptsd-makes-trusting-others-tough/
What Healing Has Actually Meant to Me
So, what has healing looked like for me? It’s all the messy, real-life moments that made me realize I was finally starting to feel safe.
Healing has been damn hard work; there is absolutely no sugar coating it. But it’s also given me a chance to grow and learn the lessons that really matter. There have been plenty of setbacks, moments where I struggled, hitting one brick wall after another. And many times, I felt like I was losing the battle.
The Small, Quiet Moments of Peace
Healing has meant realizing that peace doesn’t always crash through the door shouting, “I’m here.” Nope, you don’t even notice it at first. It’s quiet and found in the small, yet simple routines that built up over time.
It also meant learning to forgive myself for all the years I spent simply trying to survive. For the walls I put up, the people I pushed away or hurt, and the chances I didn’t take. Healing isn’t about pretending any of that didn’t happen, because it did. It’s about figuring out why it did and letting compassion slowly take the place of the shame that I’ve carried around for far too long.
I’m responding to things differently now. Instead of reacting from that old trauma-driven place, where hypervigilance took over and every situation felt like a threat, I can actually pause, take a step back, and see what’s really happening. I’m learning to separate the present from the past and focus on dealing with the problem, not just trying to survive it.
Rejection Isn’t Abandonment
Rejection doesn’t sting as much now. My trauma no longer makes it feel like every “no” feels like abandonment, or every silence means I’m not enough. Instead, I am recognizing it for what it is: a part of life, not a personal attack. Sometimes, things just don’t work out, and that doesn’t mean I’m unworthy or unlovable. It just means I’m learning to meet reality as it is, not as my trauma once convinced me it would always be.
And maybe most of all, healing has meant learning that I can trust myself, my instincts, my boundaries, and my ability to choose what’s good for me. After years of living in survival mode, that kind of self-trust feels like the kind of freedom you can’t fake or buy. It’s real, and it’s life-changing.
Moving Forward
Healing doesn’t mean being perfect. It doesn’t erase the past or the pain we’ve carried. Instead, it means learning to live in the moment, to pay attention to what we need, and to notice when we’re actually safe, with others and with ourselves.
Importantly, If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, it’s that healing really is possible, even when it feels impossible. And while everyone’s journey looks different, we don’t have to walk it alone. Because there’s connection, understanding, and even beauty waiting for us on the other side
Photo by Alev Takil on Unsplash