"Suicide isn't logical," J. told me, matter-of-factly, in a recent session.I was sitting on the comfy couch in his office, sinking into its cushions, flabbergasted he would say something that outrageous. We were just talking about my mountain of pain, composed of past and present woes that still fester like sun-bathed wounds when poked. "What... Continue Reading →
As You Heal, You Will Hurt
“...What year is it?” I asked J. near the beginning of our session as I tried hard to ground myself to reality. I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe. “What year do you think it is?” He, being the therapist that he is, never gives me a straight answer; always opting for me to figure it... Continue Reading →
A Letter to Panic Attacks and Anxiety
Dear Anxiety and PTSD-induced Panic Attacks, I hate you. No, I loathe you. You are the bane of my existence and the reason I can't enjoy the things that once brought me peace and happiness like God or writing or reading. Yes, even reading (don't ask, just know that it is horrendous). You make me... Continue Reading →
Travailing through Trauma: A Night With PTSD
Last night, PTSD won. I spent most of the night curled up in my closet, like a child afraid of the Boogeyman, trying my best to be as small as possible, like nothing at all, because the amount of open space my room offered was too much. Around 11 p.m., I lay on the floor... Continue Reading →
Musings of a Wanderer 