Brain Detours

Someone asked me if I ever feel weird writing here, knowing my ex knows this site exists and could read what I post. I don’t, honestly. She knows this blog is where I process my internal world. She also knows she’s free to read it if she ever wanted to, and if something brought up big feelings or questions, she knows she could come to me about it. But the reality is, she doesn’t really come here. She’s not much of a reader, and emotional writing has never been her thing. When

It’s hard to write out my thoughts lately. It’s even harder to share them. The reality is right now, I’m not in a place where much of my writing will be positive or uplifting. Not that positivity or being uplifting has ever been the point of my writing. It’s always just been a small window into my experiences as someone who’s trying to heal and form a life. And mostly it’s for myself, an outlet where I can lay out my pain in a place that isn’t held in secrecy. Well… full secr

I keep going in and out of feeling like I’ll survive this. When the panic attacks hit, it feels like I won’t. I don’t know how to explain that it’s panic and grief mixed together and I feel like I can’t live without her. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I don’t know that my panic attacks have every been this intense before. Usually they are silent. More mental than physical. Lately they’ve been both and I think the shingles pain being in my chest might be exace

I’m missing a lot of people today. As I was washing dishes, I was thinking of my ex and how I’m really proud of her… not in an infantilizing way, but in a whole-hearted, genuine happiness kind of way. She’s been doing so much hard work to be able to choose herself lately, and even though it’s painful for our dynamic to be changing, I am so happy for her to be able to choose her. It’s a really big deal, in a way only people who know the back story would truly understand. I’m j

I am so grateful that I am able to stay in my ex’s life as a friend. That we ended things in a way that was amicable, that we acknowledged we both mean a lot to each other, that there’s a lot of love that exists between us, and we don’t want that to change. What’s hard is looking at her and having to hold the amount of love I have in. Not being able to show it in the same ways I once did. Not being able to reach for her the way muscle memory still wants to. I know that not be

I think I’m done shouting at the universe. Last time I did that, I made a whole post about getting shingles, and apparently the universe took it as a personal challenge. Because today I found out it’s not just one nerve dermatome, it’s two. Two. Like my shingles heard me complaining and said, “Bet.” The pain makes everything feel like it’s buzzing, and with the congestion stacked on top of it, I’m basically one irritated nerve-ending in human form. I’m frustrated about… hones

I’m honestly at a point where all I can do is laugh. Not the fun kind, more like what the actual fuck is happening kind. I’m sick. I have shingles. I threw out my back… on a fucking foam roller. Universe, seriously. Just throw it all at me already. Bring it on. I’ve got snacks, existential dread… and grief that’s big enough to crush a building. But if you’re not gonna give it to me before 2026, just keep it to yourself.

I feel like I’m short circuiting. Where writing used to feel like something that helped me, now I feel like I can’t form thoughts or maybe it’s that I haven’t been allowing myself the time to think. I don’t know how I’m going to tell my family. It hurts even thinking about having to say it out loud. I don’t want to. But being asked where she is and having to pretend like everything is okay hurts just as much. I feel like I don’t bring anything to this world. I know that sound

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.