I am a little proud of myself Today.
I remembered how trauma once kept me in a state of freeze.
I could not complete even the smallest task without feeling completely overwhelmed. Something as ordinary as writing a check to pay a bill or going to the DMV could feel impossible. My mind might have known that the task was manageable, but my body responded as though I were facing danger.
Today, I felt some of that anxiety again. It doesn’t disappear; sometimes it sneaks up on me. But instead of giving up, shutting down, or criticizing myself, I reached into my mental-health toolbox. I acknowledged it, and I tended to it. Tend and Befriend.
I remembered and wrote down the things I needed to accomplish for Today. I began with one task at a time, and checked them off my list. This may sound childish, but for people like me, every step is a leap of faith.
After each accomplishment, I cheered myself on to the next task.
I said aloud, “You did it,” and reminded myself to stay focused and do the next task. Then I moved to the next thing, and the next. By noon, everything on my list was finished. I felt pretty good. I finally accomplished the things I had been putting off for almost a year. Yes, that is how bad it can get. On my way home, I saw KFC. Like a little child being rewarded with a treat for their accomplishments, I rewarded myself with my favorite pot pie!
To someone else, it may have looked like an ordinary morning. To me, it felt as though I had run a marathon. I remind myself that anxiety causes my heart to race, and breathing becomes difficult. I did not bully myself to get over it as I had done many times without thinking about the emotional, spiritual, and physical effects.
I was not merely completing errands. I was aligning my mind and body. I was telling myself that I was safe enough to keep moving. I was practicing patience with myself instead of shame. I was refusing to let anxiety decide what I could or could not accomplish. I was practicing self-compassion and breathing exercises.
Healing did not look dramatic Today. It looked like baby steps. It looked like kindness to myself. It looked like a gentle handwritten to-do list. It felt like the calm in the storm.
It sounded like my own voice saying, “Stay focused on Jesus as you do One task at a time. And, I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”
When I felt anxiety rising—I chose not to abandon myself. Instead, I said, “I am here, you are safe.” I stayed present with my feelings. I am also grateful that my daughter, who is a mental health doctor, helps me by leaning into the storm and coaching me forward. I admit, sometimes I want to stay in the pit, but God loves me too much to leave me there. Praise and glory to God for using my daughter to help me through this storm.
Today, I did not conquer everything at once. I took the next step. And then another. That is how I reached the finish line.
Sometimes I get frustrated when I talk about trauma. I can hear myself saying,
Here we go again. Is she ever going to get over it?
The answer is no. We are never going to “get over something, but I know we can walk through it with Jesus and be healed and redeemed.
I am never going to get over the abuse and harm that stole years of my life, killed my dreams, and damaged my relationships with some of the most precious people in my life.
But I know I can take one deep breath and one step at a time.
I’ve also learned to ask myself before I judge others, ” What was their story? Can you walk in their shoes?” The answer is, “No.” No, I can’t walk in their shoes, but I can walk beside them. I can reach out in their time of need. And I can say to them, “I am here, you are not alone.” That is what I can do.
I still have aftershocks from the trauma, but I know Jesus is walking me through them. He promised He will be our guide until the end.
Trauma is not something a person simply gets over. Sometimes survivors learn how to live with what happened. Sometimes they enter therapy and begin the long, courageous work of healing. Sometimes they learn how to recognize their triggers, calm their bodies, challenge the lies trauma taught them, and slowly rebuild what was broken.
But the story does not end with everyone living happily ever after. Sometimes we learn to live peaceably ever after because the LORD has brought us through so much in the past. “Remember When?” Comes to my mind every time. We carry the memories, but they no longer carry us. We remember the fire, but we are no longer standing helplessly inside it.
We remember the raging waters, but we have learned to ride the waves like a surfer or to reach for the hands extended toward us. And once we begin to heal, we want others to know that healing is possible too. We keep sharing because we understand the effects of trauma, but hope remains. We know the damage it can cause when it remains hidden, dismissed, or untreated.
We continue working on ourselves—not because we are weak, or because we want to be perfect. But because healing requires courage. And as we heal, we become more able to help someone else.
I imagine a long line of people passing buckets from hand to hand to put out a fire. I imagine people forming a human chain, reaching into raging waters to pull someone to safety.
That is why some of us keep telling our stories. We are not asking anyone to drown with us. We are reaching back so someone else does not have to drown alone.
There is still light at the end of the tunnel. There is still peace beyond the pain. And sometimes the person who has walked through the darkest places becomes the one holding a light for those who are still trying to find their way out.
Sacred Pause
Where have I mistaken silence for healing?
Am I allowing another person to grieve and heal in the way they need, or am I pressuring them to make their pain more comfortable for me?
Prayer
LORD, thank You for carrying me through places I once believed would destroy me. Continue healing the wounds that remain, and help me speak about them with wisdom, grace, and truth.
Forgive me for the times I have silenced another person’s pain because I did not know how to sit with it. Forgive me for judging someone whose healing did not happen according to my timetable.
Remove any bitterness that has taken root in my heart, but do not allow me to confuse forgiveness with silence or peace with pretending.
Use my testimony as a hand reaching into the water, a bucket passed toward the fire, and a light for someone walking through darkness.
Teach me not merely to live happily ever after, but to live faithfully, truthfully, and peaceably ever after.
In Jesus’ name, amen.
“We are not asking anyone to drown with us. We are reaching back so someone else does not have to drown alone”
Scripture References
Psalm 34:18
Psalm 40:1–3
Isaiah 43:2
2 Corinthians 1:3–4
Galatians 6:2
Revelation 12:11
Works Cited / Acknowledgment
The Holy Bible. Scripture quotations and biblical themes referenced throughout.
OpenAI, ChatGPT. Editorial assistance with organization, clarity, grammar, and devotional formatting.