healingjourney

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Breaking Cycles: Why I Keep Choosing to Heal

I didn't choose to heal; it chose me.

I remember the moment I cut the cord from my parents, and it was scary and liberating. Not knowing how they would initially react, I was pleasantly surprised and heartbroken at their lack of outreach and misunderstanding. It's like they were waiting for this moment to happen. The longer I went without speaking to them, I began to realize the cold, hard truth that they didn't care at all.

Free from their grip, I began to spiral down a dark hole inside my mind of forgotten memories. I've lost count of how many times I've wanted to give up on that darkness. How many times I've told myself it's too hard, too painful, too much. But somehow I'm still here. Still trying to fulfill my purpose in this life.

I come from a lineage of people who survived by numbing, by silencing, by pretending nothing happened. So I came to this world to break all cycles, the ultimate generational curse breaker. It's literally in my birth chart. I felt a strong purpose since I was seven years old. I'm a firm believer that we choose our parents and the hardships we endure. I will clarify that we didn't sign up for exactly what happened; free will is truly a scary concept. I'm here to break the cycles of abuse, neglect, trauma, addiction, honestly, all of it.

All of the abuse I've been through, the neglect, the sexual abuse, emotional and verbal abuse has affected me in various ways. I'm emotionally intelligent, but my emotions explode because I was never taught how to regulate. I'm learning now. I stopped giving my body to random men well over ten years ago. Always searching for something that wasn't there or trying to fill the void of pain and loneliness. Teaching myself to be kind, not just to myself, but to others as well. Creating strong, healthy boundaries, learning to say no. The most challenging of them all: addiction.

I didn't start smoking cigarettes until the day after my 18th birthday, being peer pressured into it. I continued to smoke cigarettes until I was 31 years old and quit cold turkey. I started drinking the summer after high school, under peer pressure, to fit in with my friends, and I found an outlet. A way to cope with things that I didn't remember. I felt lost but found. There was smoking of cannabis during this time. I preferred smoking over drinking, but this was before it was legal in my state to purchase cannabis. I drank heavily for the next 8 years, always searching for someone to connect with on a physical level, but nothing beyond that. When I said the healing journey chose me, this is what I mean; in September 2015, I was at a wedding with some friends, and I had been drinking. Later in the evening, I got a migraine. My first ever, and that was the turning point in my life.

It was a glamorous journey. I struggled to be sober. I struggled with staying home on the weekends, not being able to be at the bar with friends. Who were not friends, just people that happened to be drinking at the same watering hole. It honestly wasn't until after the New Year that I started to make real changes. I saw a doctor, I went on depression meds, and started practicing Yoga once per week. I spent the next few years physcially detoxing from all the crap I put in my body. I changed my diet, tried to sleep more, exercise, etc. I felt like I was walking up an icy mountain, not really making any progress but still trying. Mainly because I was still living with my parents at this time. Still under their abusive manipulation. I had no idea what I had just started.

I did quit drinking. My mom was an alcoholic, so that's an easy no for me. She killed herself three years ago. That's another story, for another time. I did, however, utilize the fact that at the beginning of 2020, marijuana became legal in my state. It was a godsend. Marijuana helped me cope and process over the next 5 years, and now here I am present moment, writing this out and struggling to let go of my edibles. My body is rejecting them, just like my body was rejecting alcohol. I crave the numbness, the release, but my heart says no. It's an internal battle that I keep to myself, wishing to be sober, but the bridge to get there is burning, itchy cravings that are the hardest part to get through.

I'm at the end of my numbing journey. I now know that I don't need it anymore. It's the in-between the old and the new, learning to cope with new techniques. I now choose healing not because it's easy, but because I'm tired of pain being the only legacy I carry forward. I refuse to be like either of my parents. I won't let my story end the same way. I also know deep in my soul that I am meant to help bring great change. It may feel like to end is all around, but I have hope that this is the downfall that we all need. Whether that's on your own personal journey or in the current state of our world. The old must be exposed before the new can be accepted.

Even if you're the first in your family to choose healing, even if no one claps for you, your choice matters. You matter. And you're not alone.

#MentalHealth #change #CPTSD #healingjourney #soberiety #choices #TraumaRecovery #AddictionRecovery

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The Weight of Remembering: A Journey from Darkness to Clarity

I woke with a heaviness I know all too well. It's been prominent for years; however, the intensity has dimmed over time. The longer I'm free, the easier it gets to maintain the grief of it all.

I'm realizing that nothing I remember was real. All lies, to forget the pain of their lies, suffocating, until the explosion of my shadows.

They came raging out in defiance, strangling me to undo the mask, sewn into my skin. I rage, I scream, I cry.

My eyes bleed with sorrow. My nails dig into my skin, trying to tear it off. Still in-tach, my cheeks now bleed with my eyes, the horror, what is happening?

How much did I forget? Why wouldn't I learn to fight back? Oh, that's right, my father physically hurts people, not people, my mother. So it wouldn't surprise me if I were hit in my younger years. He almost hit me when I was 17. It frightened me to my core, something I was all too familiar with.

Nothing was making sense anymore. What's worse is that over time, we moved past it. Like it was normal.

The longer you are away from your abuser, the more you learn the truth. The truth about the pain, the suffering, the sleepless nights, the physical tension, the anxiety - all of it.

And now all I think is, why didn't I see it before? Blaming myself yet again.

I am the victim. I am the survivor. I am a warrior ready to fight the battle for others.

Everything coming into focus, I see where my path is leading.

#MentalHealth #healingjourney #CPTSD

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Things I wish I Could Tell My Younger Self

I think about her often - the little girl I used to be. She was small, but her heart carried mountains. There are things I wish I could whisper in her ear - things she should've known all along.

She lived in a home where love felt like walking on eggshells. She learned to shrink herself, silence her needs, and obey just to survive. Holding everything in. No one ever protected her - so she became her own protector.

She was a body, not a person. The only time she was shown love was when it was societally acceptable. Holidays and her birthday were her favorite days, she was a person who received love and gifts. But it was all for show. All was a lie.

What I'd tell her now... You were never too much, it wasn't your job to fix broken adults, your silence was survival, the blatant neglect proved how incapable they were as parents. You were not meant to just survive, you're meant to thrive, to exhale, to sleep soundly and safely, to play, to experience, to feel, and so much more. It was taken from you, I hear you and see you little one. It will be okay, one day.

Now I understand that love isn't supposed to hurt. Im learning to parent myself in real time, process my emotions. Sometimes I feel like a child when I cry and scream and don't understand why things are difficult. My anger makes sense now. I am now the version of me that I needed as a child. I've become my own savior, my own guardian angel. I will stop at nothing to make sure people know what was done to you little one.

Your voice will become your most powerful asset.

I will keep showing up for her.

She's safe with me now

We're healing - together.

What would you tell your younger self, if they were listening?

#MentalHealth #Trauma #survival #innerchild #healingjourney

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I'm Angry, and That's Part of My Healing too

I'm angry.

Anger fueled by rage, I'm constantly screaming on the inside. Anger made me "dramatic". Anger made me "disrespectful". Anger made them uncomfortable.

So I buried it. I buried it so deep that I didn't even know it existed. I buried it so deep, I forgot what they did to me. Waking up every day believing that it didn't happen, yearning for love and affection.

But here's the truth I'm learning now: My anger is not the problem. My anger is the part of me that now remembers I deserved better.

I'm angry that my boundaries were ignored.

I'm angry that my voice was stolen.

I'm angry that I was made to believe everything was my fault.

This anger doesn't mean I'm bitter - it means I'm finally in a safe space to feel what I couldn't back then.

It rises in waves, not to destroy - but to release. To unfreeze my body. To burn away the silence. To make space for something new.

I'm angry that I had no guidance, no love, no regulation, no understanding. I got nothing from them.

It was all a lie.

Anger, rage, hatred are all normal emotions to feel when healing Trauma of any kind. What sets you apart from the abuser, is learning to let it go when it doesn't hurt anymore. Understanding that it was never personal.

I'm learning to let it burn through me, not consume me.

#anger #MentalHealth #healingjourney #Trauma

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What It's Like to Live With Trauma That No One Sees

Just another day of surviving C-PSTD. Everything looks good on the outside. But on the inside, my stomach is twisted, my nervous system is barely functioning from overuse, and my soul is deeply exhausted.

The other day I was triggered by an employee at the DMV who did nothing but her job. I spiraled hard that day, I screamed and cried for hours. It wasn't just about the missing paperwork. It was the fact that I was never guided on how to do life or how to navigate adulthood. So every time I come face to face with a obstacle, and it doesn't pan out - Triggered.

First, I feel the weight hit my chest, then my stomach starts to churn. Tears are inevitable. But it's not just sadness. It's blinding hot rage and anger. I went home and collapsed into screams and sobs. At one point, I yelled at the photos of my departed mother, I find it harder to feel empathy for her with each passing day. It's hard to describe what I'm feeling on the inside or what it's like to heal from everything I experienced, so I'll try, it's word vomit, plus real vomit with a tidal wave of emotions with only one way out. Eventually, I passed out from exhaustion. My afternoon naps - those are the only times I really sleep. At night, the real demons come. In the dark. Where the other monsters reside.

Healing is a rollercoaster in my life. One minute I would be perfectly fine. The next - chaos.

I've learned this: healing is step by step. You define what that looks like.

I've noticed a pattern: first the emotions explode, then I sit. Then my mind starts sorting the facts. I need timelines,. Logic. The 5 W's: who, what, when, where, why.Eventually both sides of me - the emotional and the logical - meet. I can begin to co-exist with what happened. In the present and the past. Because once the emotional attachment releases, it's just a fact about me. And facts can't hurt me the way memories do.

I remind myself daily, I am not broken, I am merely carrying more weight than anyone should. About this post... these words... I've held them in my soul far too long.

To the reader that made it this far, I see you and I see your pain. I hope that you find what's been missing and reclaim it as your own.

#CPTSD #healingjourney #TraumaRecovery #MentalHealth #youarenotalone

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From Missionary Kid to Survivor

Growing up as a missionary kid in the IFB church shaped much of who I was—for better and for worse. The strict rules, the fear-based teachings, and the pressure to always appear “perfect” left deep scars. Leaving that world behind has been both freeing and painful.

Religious trauma isn’t always visible, but it affects how we see ourselves and the world. Healing is a slow journey, but sharing our stories helps. If you’re also healing from religious trauma, know you’re not alone. There is hope beyond the fear.

Thank you to this community for being a place of understanding and support. 💙

#ReligiousTraumaSurvivor #MissionaryKid #IFB #healingjourney #youarenotalone

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Dear Me, I’m Still Trying. And That’s Enough.

Dear Little Me,

If you’re reading this, it means we’ve made it further than you thought we could. I wish I could wrap you in my arms right now and let you cry without holding it in, laugh without apology, and dream without someone telling you you’re too much.

There are things I wish I could’ve shielded you from—moments that chipped away at your light. People who didn’t see your worth. Days when you felt invisible, or worse, like a burden. But I want you to know something: You were never the problem. You were just ahead of your time.

You always loved hard, felt deep, questioned everything. And I’m proud of you for that. I’m proud of you for surviving when you didn’t know how. For still smiling in photos when your heart was heavy. For not letting the world break you—even when it tried.

I still carry parts of you inside me. The playful, curious, emotional, wild little spark that just wanted to be seen and safe. I’m learning how to take care of us both now.

And maybe most importantly… I forgive you for everything you thought you did wrong. You were doing the best you could with what you had—and that was more than enough.

Walk with me. We’ve still got places to go.

I don’t know where home is yet. Not really. But I believe it’s out there. Not just four walls and a roof—but a feeling. A breath. A place where my heart can stop clenching and my body can finally exhale. I don’t know what it looks like, or who will be there waiting. But I believe I will recognize it the moment I feel safe—not just in my surroundings, but in myself.

Until then, I’ll keep moving. Gently. Boldly. Soft and fierce, all at once.

I’ll keep reaching—not because I’m lost, but because I’m learning how to grow into myself.

We may not know exactly where we’re headed yet,

but I promise—we’re on our way.

With all the love you always deserved,

Me (still searching, still standing, still full of fire—and never giving up on us)

#wordsformyyoungerself #dearyoungerme #healingjourney #innerchildhealing #becomingme #Selfcompassion #stillstanding #iammysafeplace #resilienceinbloom #traumasurvivor #survivingandthriving #reclaimingmystory #becomingwhole #homeisafeeling #findingmywayback #rootedinhope #ThisIsHealing #growingintomyself #letterstomyself #writingtoheal #memoirinprogress #heartonthepage #walkingwithher #wordsformyyoungerself #handinhandwithme #softisstrong #Learningtolovemyself

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Feeling Better After a Mentally Tough Time — A Little Update

After going through a really tough time mentally, I can finally say I’m feeling much better. The heaviness has lifted, my thoughts are clearer, and I feel more like myself again. It took time, patience, and small steps, but I’ve come a long way.

I'm focusing now on building healthier habits, staying present, and appreciating the calm after the storm. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about feeling okay, and that feels like a huge win.

If you're in the middle of your struggle, just know that things can change. Healing happens in quiet moments, and one day, you might look up and realize you're doing better than you thought.

#mentalhealthrecovery #healingjourney #feelingbetter #Hope #selfcare #progress

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I Didn’t Give Up – 12 Years with Vitiligo

I’m 53 years old now,

and I’ve spent 12 of those years living with vitiligo.

When the white patches first appeared,

I thought they would simply go away.

But that was just the beginning.

I tried treatments,

faced confusion and despair,

and had to rebuild my confidence from scratch.

At some point,

I realized healing meant more than just medical treatment.

It meant understanding—

my body, my mind, what I ate, where I lived, how I handled stress...

So I chose not to give up.

It took time.

But slowly, change came.

This photo is just a small piece of that journey.

If you’re walking a similar path,

I want you to know this:

You are not alone.

And real healing is possible.

I’m from Korea

Even though I’m not fluent in English, I hope my story can give someone strength, comfort, or a little bit of hope

#VitiligoRecovery ,#autoimmunehealing ,#12yearsstrong ,#healingjourney ,#BeforeAndAfter

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The Scapegoat’s Lament

Lies upon lies, deception upon deception —

Secrets buried beneath secrets, a layered infection.

Crimes whispered in corners, dark shadows roam,

While the innocent are told to suffer alone.

They call it family, call it love,

But what god above could watch from above?

To silence a soul with a single demand —

"Stay quiet, stay loyal, don’t bite the hand."

But loyalty isn’t the cage they built,

It’s a noose made of gaslight, resentment, and guilt.

And silence — they say it brings peace —

But the truth screams louder, it will never cease.

They sharpen their words like blades in the night,

But it’s the scapegoat’s blood that’s bathed in their spite.

A sacrifice, bound and spun on the flame —

Laughed at, discarded, yet burdened with blame.

They drink and they feast as I burn in their view —

A ritual of torment, the role I outgrew.

But still, I’m served up on a platter of shame —

My suffering their comfort, my pain their game.

"Choose life," they sneer, "But live it our way."

Or bow to the devil, let morals decay.

But I’d rather be pierced by a thousand cruel lies —

Than live in a world where the righteous disguise.

Because freedom’s no gift from the hands of the damned —

It’s claimed by the broken who dare make a stand.

And if I must fall for the truth to survive —

Then let it be known, I lived — truly alive.

No martyr, no savior, no saint in disguise —

Just a soul who refused to be swallowed by lies.

So strike if you must — but remember this cry —

The scapegoat you slaughter will rise from the sky.

#scapegoatsurvivor #healingjourne #healingjourney #survivorpoetry #emotionalhealin g #frompaintopower #soulhealing #TraumaRecovery #poeticexpressio n#MentalHealthAwareness #strengthenwithin #healingthroughword #ReclaimYourPower #boundariesmatter #EmotionalFreedom #healingispossible #youarenotalone