Brain Detours

I think it’s important to talk about my part in the dynamic with my first therapist. I’m not sure I fully have the words to describe everything, but I’m going to try my best. I had never in my life been cared for the way she cared for me. I’d never felt nurtured before. Seen. Heard. Understood in the way she managed to understand me. I had never trusted anyone enough to share my story either. Honestly, I didn’t think my story mattered enough to tell. My body had absolutely no

I’m feeling really disconnected from myself and from life today. It’s one of those days where I blinked and suddenly it was the end of the work day, and I’m honestly not sure where the hours went. I just got home, and my wife and I are babysitting our two-year-old niece tonight, so the evening will probably be filled with tiny tea parties and watching Finding Nemo on repeat. If I’m able to form any real thoughts later, I’ll be back. But if I disappear for a bit, it’s just bec

It’s strange how two experiences can both hurt you and still feel nothing alike in your body. I’ve been thinking about that, the difference between a wound and a trauma. The difference between someone who harms you and owns it, and someone who harms you and then lies about it to protect themselves. My first therapist made mistakes. I’m not going to sugarcoat that. Things happened that left me with pain I still carry, and probably more trauma than either of us knew how to hold

Last night was everything I needed. Company of people I’ve missed dearly. A lot of laughs and great food. If you haven’t gone yet, Central Pizza in Broussard is incredible. The place was packed full and the service was still top tier. If you know me, you know there’s nothing I love more than a cold draft beer, but I’m also a Blue Moon lover. So I was prepared to settle for a bottle last night. Well, they were out of Blue Moon… but my planning skills came into effect because I

I don’t really know how to put where I’m at into words, but I’m going to try. I’m in this painful fog, a place where I don’t know who I am, where it feels like I’m watching someone else inside of me scream and cry. And I mean that literally. I’m not crying. I’m not screaming. It’s like the part of me that would is trapped behind my skeleton and I’m just watching them struggle. This is the space where my old coping skills start calling to me. The ones that used to quiet everyt

There are days where I feel like I’m here, but also… not. Like I’m moving through my life from a few feet above my own head, watching myself do things without feeling connected to any of it. It’s a strange kind of distance. Empty in a way I can’t quite describe. These are the moments where memory doesn’t feel like something I own. Everything I did hours or days ago slips away like someone else lived it. Not everything slips away but I know so much is missing. Like looking at

I’m back in the cycle where I’m struggling to sleep, and without medication I can’t fall asleep at all. If I take a Klonopin, I’ll sleep for about an hour before waking up drenched in sweat. And I mean drenched to the point that I have to change my clothes and my bedding. It’s miserable. Last night I ended up taking another Klonopin when I woke up, and thankfully that helped me fall back asleep and stay asleep. But even with a “full” night of sleep, I’m still exhausted. My wh

I’m kind of in a depressive slump today. When my brain gets like this, it convinces me I have nothing good to offer the world. I know it’s just my brain being a giant asshole, and I’ll probably feel better in the morning… at least I hope so. As far as my grief goes, I’m trying my best to be grateful for what was and what still is, instead of getting caught up in what could have been or what I wish could’ve been. It’s hard. This is one of those times where the shame around how

Complex trauma is a bitch to be honest with you. Anyone living with it can tell you how hard it is to get through some days. Some days it’s like a battle inside yourself that never stops for you to get a break. Today was probably the worst it’s been in awhile. I think everything is just adding up and it boiled over. I knew I was on empty before couples therapy today, but I didn’t realize it was going to be as difficult as it was. I can’t recall most of the session. I’m actual

Today my therapist had to cancel my session last minute because she’s sick. I struggle in general with last-minute changes… but it’s even harder right now because I don’t have enough data or experience with her yet to feel grounded. I don’t have a pattern of behavior to reference, nothing in my body that knows “this isn’t a recurring thing,” nothing steady enough to fall back on. It’s a brand new relationship, and sudden changes hit differently when you don’t have safety buil

I’ve tried to type out a post several times talking about today but my brain is mush and I just can’t speak clearly enough for it to make any sense. So the update for now is… my session was cancelled last minute today and I’m kind of just sitting with that for right now. I’ll type out a more detailed post at some point but idk how long it will take me to feel like I can communicate clearly again.

Today I stopped to notice something small, so many bees drinking from the flowers along the lagoons. It felt peaceful to stand there and just watch them work. My brain is still quiet today. I’m tired though. My sleep hasn’t been at its best, but that’s okay. I’ll take a little sleep deprivation if it means I get some peace in my head. Anyway, I wanted to share this photo I captured, a bee on a flower, just doing its thing.

The night ended with my wife and I, in the middle of a cane field, taking photos of the night sky. I somehow got lucky enough to capture a shooting star. Check it out. Today was just what I needed.

This whole day has been good. I don’t know if you can feel the weight of that sentence but I need you to. I need you to understand that this is rare for me. And I can just hear the therapist question: “What was different about today than the other days?” Ma’am, I don’t know. I woke up like this. I drank a peppermint bark coffee? Are you telling me I can ditch the mental health meds for peppermint bark coffee? That will solve all my problems? This whole time? lol That line, I

I started my morning with a peppermint bark coffee. Funny thing, I used to only drink iced americanos and would turn my nose up at drinks like this. Not out of coffee smugness or fragile masculinity… I just never really liked sweet coffee. But lately, I’ve made exceptions for fall and winter flavor specials. It was a good way to start the day. I had a productive morning at work where everything felt a little easier, like I wasn’t forcing myself through each task. Maybe the co

I’m tired. Emotionally and physically. I don’t have much room in me to be vulnerable about what’s going on for me internally right now. A lot of it brings intense shame and it makes me feel selfish, so I’d rather keep it as a private process. It’s probably something I should process in therapy, but I don’t know if I can even let myself speak aloud about it. Anyway, I still wanted to show up to my blog today, but I think this is as much as I can give for now. That I’m in a pla

Today feels heavy in a way that words can’t seem to carry. A family member died suddenly yesterday, and today I have to bring my late grandmother’s cat to the vet to help him pass. He’s suffering, and I know deep down that keeping him here would be selfish. But knowing that doesn’t make it easier. I keep trying to find words to make sense of it all, but every time I reach for them, it’s like my mind turns to a blank canvas…quiet, colorless, and empty. I think it’s because it’

I have my second session with my new therapist tomorrow and I have absolutely zero clue what to talk about. First sessions are usually a little easier on my nerves because they tend to be more structured and the therapist tends to ask more questions. Second sessions, though, feel like stepping into a room I don’t quite know how to fill. It’s like the structure dissolves and I’m supposed to just talk about my week. But I don’t even know where my week went. I barely remember en

If consciousness ends when we die, what happens to love? I think love keeps living, just in a different way. Each person who knew you, knew you as you showed up in the world with them. Every relationship holds a different version of you… a tone of laughter, a small act of care, a memory that belongs only to that connection. Because of that, I think the love we have while we’re alive gets spread out among the people we’ve touched. It keeps living in them, quietly woven into th

I logically think that because joy is fleeting, it’s more sacred. It feels good to have joy, and if you can really immerse yourself in that feeling, in that experience, and be present with it, you can get so much out of it before it leaves. But I think it’s a lot more complex than that simple, logical answer, especially for people who have trauma backgrounds. For instance, my body and mind make it very difficult sometimes to be fully present in joyful experiences because I’m