Healing and Connection

I was able to pass out when I got home from work, so at least I’ll have an hour of sleep in me. I’m struggling with feeling… I’m not sure what, but whatever it is, it’s a deep ache. It sits heavy, even when I can’t quite name it. Despite the weight of the day, I made a point to track the things that brought me small moments of joy. The pieces that helped me feel even a little bit lighter. Things that made me smile or laugh today: A Pisces Instagram account calling me (and eve

You know, mental health is a tricky thing. One minute I’m completely worn down, exhausted, like I’m walking a tightrope and hanging by a thread at the same time. Every sound, every thought, feels like too much. So, I do what I need to do to make it through the day. Today that meant taking a Klonopin before facing people. I don’t love needing it, but I also know pretending I don’t, helps no one. Not me, not the people I have to talk to. And once it kicked in… I felt lighter. D

When it comes to my mental health, there are a lot of things I won’t talk about out loud. There are a lot of things I won’t even allow myself to think about, because the moment I do, I start to panic. And I just want other people out there to know that it’s normal for things to feel messy and unclear, to not know what is what. To not know the exact cause of every symptom, or the reason why certain things are happening. I used to drive myself up a wall trying to untwist everyt

My last post got me thinking about my journey from the moment I was first diagnosed with complex trauma and PTSD to where I am now and everything it’s taken to get here. I’ll share the highlights for now and maybe go into more detail another time. I showed up to my first individual therapy session absolutely terrified. Barely able to speak, barely able to make eye contact. I don’t remember how many sessions in it was, but I remember my therapist, after listening to me talk ab

I was reflecting today and realized that for people who don’t know me …and even for some who do, my strong emotions might make them feel uneasy, or worry that I can’t handle the waves I experience. I just want to reassure anyone who might feel that way: I’ve been living with this depth of emotion for most of my life. It can be intense, but it’s not new to me. I’ve learned how to navigate it, how to let it move through me, and how to take care of myself in the process. Even wh

Today my brain was nice to me, and I enjoyed it. A day of being present. They don’t come often, but when they do, I soak up every moment. The air feels a little lighter, the noise quiets just enough, and I can actually feel my feet on the ground instead of floating somewhere far away. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if this could be my baseline , if peace didn’t feel like a visitor I’m afraid to scare off. But today, I didn’t overthink it. I just lived. It was a g

I was watching Gossip Girl with my wife — for what has to be the fifteenth time — and we hit the part where Dan and Blair are dating. And instantly, I was like, nope. They don’t work. Blair needs someone like Chuck. And Dan… Dan just grosses me out. Then I went off about how self-righteous he is. And somewhere mid-rant, I realized — damn. Maybe that’s why he gets under my skin. Because I can be self-righteous too. Mine doesn’t come from superiority, it comes from protection.

Lately I’ve been struggling not to let the fact that I can’t seem to find someone to help me convince me that I’m the worst person walking this earth. Part of me really believes that must be true — that if I were easier to help, easier to sit with, I wouldn’t be here again, starting over. But I’m trying to remind myself of something that’s also true: most of the time, I’ve been the one walking away. And sometimes, it’s been mutual. That matters. Because walking away isn’t alw

Sometimes, things feel unbearably heavy. I can get swallowed by the thought that I’m worthless— that I’ll never be enough— and that darkness can stretch itself so wide, it casts shadows where they don’t belong. It convinces me to stop trying, to stop living. And then—there are days like today. Days when I watch my dogs run and play, tails wagging, hearts wide open to the world. Days when I see my wife’s beauty, both the quiet kind that sits in her heart and the kind that shin

Why This Project Matters Some days, the world feels unbearably heavy. I scroll through headlines and see one crisis after another — genocide, starvation, governments that seem to forget their humanity — and I feel helpless. It’s hard to make sense of how so many can look away, how comfort and privilege can become blindfolds that keep people from seeing what others are living through. And yet, I keep asking myself what I can actually do. What’s within reach? The Beginning If I

The Quiet It’s not loud all the time. Sometimes it’s eerily quiet — like a room after someone leaves. But even in the quiet, there’s movement. Thoughts don’t rest; they shift, reorganize, replay. I can be sitting perfectly still and still feel like I’m running. The Watcher There’s an ache in the background — not pain exactly, more like the weight of constant awareness. I notice everything. The smallest tone change, the flicker in someone’s eyes, the air in the room when words

Lately, my grief has felt alive again — not distant or faded, but pulsing quietly in my chest. It doesn’t just miss the past; it longs to say hello. It wants to ask, “How has your life been since we last saw each other?” It’s strange how love doesn’t always know where to go when absence takes its place. The part of me that understands boundaries knows we can’t have the same kind of connection anymore, but another part still aches for the version of life where friendship might

A reflection on what it means to be changed by connection. There are some people who enter your life and teach you what a soul actually is — what it feels like to be in the presence of a good one. That’s what that first therapeutic relationship did for me. What Went Well I felt deeply seen and understood in a way words can’t even describe. I was seen in ways I couldn’t yet see myself — like her eyes were a map to my own soul. It’s one thing to feel understood through words, b

I can feel myself shifting. Doubt seeping in. Shame seeping in. The loneliness is so sharp I can feel the depth of the clouds surrounding me. I’m holding onto the roots of the tree for dear life because I don’t want to start floating again. There’s something terrifying about feeling yourself slip — not all at once, but gradually, like sand through tired fingers. I keep wondering what it must feel like to move through the world with an inner steadiness. To know who you are no

Her There’s a steadiness in my life that has a name. She’s been beside me for fourteen years — through every version of who I’ve been....

Some connections don’t end—they change form and become the quiet proof that something real once existed.