If you’ve been following my blog, you know I’ve put in the work. Not just little steps here and there, but years of therapy, really digging into the messy stuff, and a whole lot of uncomfortable growth.

I’ve spent hours in therapy. Dug through emotional wreckage. Untangled beliefs that weren’t even mine. I faced parts of myself I used to avoid like the plague. At this point, you could say I’m pretty good at showing up for myself while living with CPTSD and dealing with the past.

And most days, I do. I set boundaries. I check in with myself. I catch it when I’m triggered. I’ve built routines, tools, and a way of talking to myself I never had before. I’ve put together a life that feels safer and holds more meaning.

But CPTSD Doesn’t Care

But that doesn’t mean CPTSD can’t just sneak up on me out of nowhere. One minute I’m alright, then suddenly I’m stuck in the same old patterns and panic I thought I’d left behind, and I didn’t even realize it was happening.

That’s the thing with trauma. It’s slippery. It shows up unannounced. Sometimes sneakily, at other times like a bull in a China shop.

Case in point: this website, my writing, and what it’s doing for me personally. What started as a way to speak my truth and maybe help others, has turned into one of the most vulnerable things I’ve ever done. I’m not just sharing thoughts. I’m sharing parts of me I used to keep hidden, even from myself. And that kind of exposure? It’s stirred up more than I expected.

Today, I Nearly Tore It All Down

Today, I found myself picking apart everything I’ve built. This site, my writing, and my voice. The inner critic showed up loud and clear, waving a sign and knocking my confidence. Suddenly, everything I’ve done up to this point felt like maybe none of this matters.

Rationally, I know that’s trauma talking. I can even hear my therapist’s voice in my head saying, “This is just a part of you trying to protect you.” But in the moment? It feels real. And it’s loud. My nervous system doesn’t care about logic. It’s still mid-story. Still raw. Still hanging on to wounds that haven’t fully healed.

I Thought I’d Be Past This By Now

Even though I’ve done the work, and I really have, I still have these moments. Moments when doubt takes over like it owns the place. When my brain falls back into old wiring, whispering, You’re not safe. You’re not enough. This won’t last. It’s frustrating, honestly. Because part of me thought that with enough therapy, healing, and good days, I’d outgrow this. Like I’d cross some finish line and be done with the chaos.

But that’s not how CPTSD works.

Healing isn’t some finish line you reach and then everything’s just… fixed. It’s more like a relationship you keep showing up to, even on the days you want to hide or shut down. It’s not a straight path. It’s a weird, messy squiggle. Sometimes you circle back to the same pain, just from a slightly different angle, with maybe a little more awareness, or a little more grace for yourself. And yes, sometimes it still hurts like hell.

The Real Work Is Staying

I’ve realized that maybe the real work is learning to just stay with myself in those moments. Not trying to fix it, silence it, or shove it away with shame. Just stay. Breathe. Listen. And remind myself that a hard day doesn’t wipe out the progress I’ve made or the growth I’ve earned. It just means I’m human. A human with a nervous system that’s been through a lot of shit and still gets overwhelmed sometimes.

And honestly, when those feelings do hit, they stick hard, like Velcro. (I unpack that here: CPTSD & Velcro: Why Feelings Stick and Stay.)

A Friendly Reminder

So if you’re here too, if you’ve done the work and still find yourself falling apart sometimes, this is your reminder: you’re not doing it wrong. You’re not back at square one. You’re still healing. Still growing. Still showing up. Even when it’s hard.

It happens to all of us. No matter how “seasoned” we think we are.

And that counts for way more than we give ourselves credit for.

That’s why I keep writing. Not because I’ve figured it all out, but because I haven’t, and I know I’m not alone in that

Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash