Things People Don’t Talk About Enough With Cptsd:

To everybody needing it:

I’m really sorry to hear your day sucked

I’m not sure if tomorrow will be better for you, but it’ll be a reset

You’ll find the courage you need to do That Thing

You are perfectly okay. You’re doing just fine…more than just fine, even. There’s nothing wrong with you. 

Take care of yourself tonight. It’ll be okay.

Noticing your own self-talk is a fundamental part of cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), one of the most common types of therapy. What are the stories you tell yourself when you’re feeling anxious? Are those stories true? Interrupting your thought patterns can help you find relief instead of going down a spiral of anxious thoughts. What if you have a hard time catching your thoughts as they’re happening? No problem—like anything else, it takes practice! The more you practice, the more naturally it comes. Transcription under the cut below:

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I think one of the kindest things you can do for people with various mental health struggles is just... let people back into your life after they've been absent for a while.

Making friends as an adult is so fucking hard already and isolating yourself from other people is a very common symptom of depression, anxiety, burnout, ocd, trauma, grief, etc. Which means that someone will do the hard work of recovery/healing and resurface back into a world where their previous friends have written them off because they stopped showing up.

So if you know someone where you're like "yeah we could have been better friends but they fell off the map a bit" and that person suddenly reaches out, or starts showing up to events even though you kind of forgot they were still in the group chat... well they may have been Going Through It and you don't actually have to punish them for their absence you can just be glad that they're back.

Having a senior dog with cancer is so hard. 😢I made this to help me cope — and if you’re going through anticipatory grief of any kind, I hope it helps you, too!

it’s like insane that an ancient writer knew the words i needed to hear a thousand years on and could see me through all that time but also. it’s not surprising in the least bc they felt as i felt and they sang as i sang and they did everything i’ve ever done there is no state of being which they have not already passed i am nothing new i am not alone and that is a great joy to know

a normal and average sunday consists of lying on the ground thinking about how much I'd like to go back and do everything again because this time I'd do everything right

28

Seeking control isn’t inherently bad.

I am enjoying the silence, the deliberate choices to filter out the noise that isn’t contributing to a semblance of peace. I decide what to read, who to converse with, and who to visit. I bought this massive crossword puzzle book for $15 to ponder when my mind starts to wander. It wanders often. No matter how many times I reassure myself that I need to prioritize my own mental health so I can better help others, I end up feeling guilty and dismiss my feelings despite the reassurance that these feelings are valid.

I'm nowhere close to having processed my own past. My therapist has talked of retirement within the next year and a half or so, which has kicked off worries of what it will mean to try finding a new therapist, establishing rapport and trust, and doing this all over again. That’s tough to do, even if it could lead to feeling more comfortable talking about my life up until this point. The prospect of searching for a new therapist I can vibe with is worrisome. Can I do without? I don’t know. I told my grandma as much.

Tomorrow hasn’t even arrived and I dread visiting with extended family members I haven’t bothered talking to in probably close to a decade over the comments they made about my mom and I, not to mention their shitty treatment. My mom tried to extend an olive branch. Neither of them have changed much. It’ll be in a setting with my grandparents and two other family members who genuinely care about others. Still, this is one reason why I’m not fond of the holidays - too much drama and politicking.

I’d love to be in the spirit of the holiday season. I envy those who can embrace it wholeheartedly without any reservations. They exude joy and excitement, and sometimes it’s enough to spark a flicker of happiness. The light goes out when I’m reminded of how busy work has become and how this is likely the new norm. There is no promise of help. We fight for scraps. There are days where I don’t have the energy or the emotional capacity to persuade myself that this has a positive impact even if I can’t see it in the moment.

I couldn’t focus long enough to read tonight. All I want is to rest and to find a path to taking better care of myself instead of languishing like this. It has to get better.

Violets, sweet violets (Art Detail) John William Godward 

Oil on Canvas

1906

You weren’t abused because you were a “bad child”. You were abused because they were abusive.

They only said those things to try and find some justification for their abuse.