Recently, I found myself in a deep trauma response, struggling mentally and emotionally. It felt like I was losing control, with a breakdown looming. This used to be a daily feeling for me, but with healing, the intensity has lessened. Still, it comes back, especially right before my period.
During these times, my usual coping skills feel out of reach. When something triggers me, my brain can’t function well enough to use the tools that usually help. It’s like being a stranger in my own body and life.
Intrusive thoughts scatter my mind. Paranoia is at an all-time high. Getting out of bed feels impossible, and falling asleep is a battle. Extreme lethargy and sadness take over, and I feel like I’m losing control and utterly lost.
I wonder if my mom felt the same. Did she experience this overwhelming despair, this looming breakdown? Understanding her struggles has become a bittersweet part of my healing journey. My mom had mental health issues, and I once read in her chart that she had schizophrenia, although I never checked if it was true. She was also a drug addict, and our relationship suffered because of it. Now, going through similar moments, I wonder if she used drugs to escape these overwhelming feelings. This understanding heals a part of me that she abandoned.
I felt the same way this time last year. The year before that, I had just had my son, and my brain was too focused on keeping him alive to think about anything else. Three years ago, I was deep in a healing phase, coming home from work to cry every day as I worked through my inner child’s pain.
My intrusive thoughts can get so bad that I become paranoid, believing these thoughts will come true and that I’m not safe. At work, this is especially problematic. I struggle to focus, and the lack of proper sleep leaves my brain in a fog.
Prayer is my biggest coping skill. When my mind is spiraling out of control, it helps put it back on track. Whether I’m anxious, scared, or sad, I talk to God about it. Even if I’m crying and feeling that life isn’t fair, I often end up laughing, reminded that no one said it was supposed to be fair.
My husband is my biggest support system. He reads me like a book, which used to irritate me, but now I love it because he knows when I’m not myself and need to engage in my coping skills—my toolbox. My best friends are also a great support. They came up with the concept of a toolbox: a list of things that help when I’m going through a rough time. The idea is to share it with my support people, so they know how to help.
Despite these challenges, there are moments of hope and resilience, especially in my son. His smile, his affection—these remind me to be in the moment, not to miss anything with him. Every time I come out the other side of a trauma response, I remind myself of my strength. Healing isn’t linear, but it’s happening. Each day, I’m learning to navigate this journey with a little more grace and a lot more compassion for myself.
I’ve learned that giving myself grace is essential. It’s okay to have bad days and to feel overwhelmed. What matters is how we care for ourselves in those moments. We need to be patient and gentle with ourselves, just as we would be with someone we love. Embracing self-compassion can make the hardest days a bit more bearable and the healing journey a bit smoother.
If you’re feeling this way, remember to be kind to yourself. Healing is a journey, and it’s okay to take it one step at a time. Give yourself the same grace and compassion you would offer to a friend. Your feelings are valid, and there is hope, even in the darkest moments. Healing is possible, and you are stronger than you realize.
Write Philippians 4:6-7 in your heart by embedding it in your mind: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Give your mind to God.