Healing Out Loud — The Blog
Trauma doesn’t disappear when we stop talking about it.
It hides in our sleep, our bodies, our nervous systems, our humor, our relationships, and the decisions we make every day.
This blog is where I talk about trauma openly — PTSD, CPTSD, medical trauma, rare disease, childhood trauma, survival strategies, trauma brain, dark humor, healing, and everything we were taught to keep quiet.
Read with humor.
Read with compassion.
Read knowing you’re not alone — not now, not ever.
Saturday Morning Conversations With My Trauma Brain
It all begins with an idea.
November 7, 2025
If you have a trauma brain, you already know mornings can get weird.
There you are, minding your own business, trying to sleep, and suddenly:
Trauma Brain: It’s early. Want to sleep in or want to think about your trauma?
Also Trauma Brain: Trauma! Trauma! Trauma! So much easier than sleeping!
Cool cool cool. Love that for us.
Once I’m awake:
Trauma Brain: Now that we’re up, go drink a whole pot of coffee by yourself. Feeling relaxed is suspicious. We need to be AMPED and prepared to fight off any attacker, tiger, memory, or mild inconvenience.
Then, once the caffeine hits:
Trauma Brain: Time to gooooo. Go go go. If we stay in motion and anticipate everyone’s needs, maybe no one will be mad at us, and maybe our body will stop attacking itself. Safety first. Hustle second. Sleep never.
If I try to sit down?
Trauma Brain: Cool. Here is every bad thing that has ever happened. Chronologically. With unnecessary detail. You’re welcome.
Want to leave the house and do something fun?
Trauma Brain: Let’s think about everything that could go wrong, will go wrong, and definitely has gone wrong. Especially if you have medical trauma or chronic illness. Nothing says “good times” like worst-case scenario planning!
And listen—I make jokes, but this is real.
Trauma brains are loud.
Trauma brains are exhausting.
Trauma brains are trying to keep us safe, but sometimes they just keep us stuck.
Here’s what helps me take back control:
1. Noticing the thoughts
A thought is just a thought.
Not a prediction.
Not a prophecy.
Not a command.
Trauma thoughts feel sharp and pointy, because traumatic memories are stored that way—loud and urgent. It doesn’t mean they’re true.
2. Controlling what I can control
My chronic illness (CIDP) and medical trauma mean my body has limits. Some days I cancel plans. Some days I rally. Some days I rest.
I can’t control my whole nervous system, but I can control how I talk to myself about it, how I prepare, how I rest, and how I support my future self.
3. Humor
Sometimes all you can do is laugh.
We joke about #walkingprivilege in my house because I’ve spent a lifetime fighting a body that doesn’t always cooperate. Humor doesn’t erase trauma, but it makes living with it a tiny bit easier.
4. Setting myself up for sleep
Sleep is survival. And if it’s complicated? Fine. Let it be complicated. I try. I forgive myself when it’s hard.
5. Coming back to the present
Trauma brain wants to drag us backward.
“It is what it is” brings us back to now.
Now is where healing happens.
6. Talking about it
For most of my life, I didn’t speak about my trauma.
Not to friends, not to doctors, not to anyone.
Silence kept me alive once.
Silence kept me stuck later.
The minute I started talking—really talking—everything changed.
You don’t have to tell the whole internet your story.
You don’t have to be brave every day.
But you don’t have to be silent anymore.
Trauma can feel like a lot, but you’re not alone.
I’m here.
And my podcast is coming soon, full of real survivors and real stories, so you can hear proof that it isn’t just you.
Because it’s not.
You are not weak. You are not broken. And you are not alone.
If your trauma brain wakes up before you do, I see you.
You don’t have to heal alone anymore.
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