Yella Fella was diagnosed with diabetes three weeks ago. He gets insulin twice a day and I’ve modified his diet to only canned food. His blood glucose level is still high but I’m working with the vet to get him stabilized.

In typical C-PTSD fashion, it’s all my fault. I should have caught it sooner. I should have been more careful with his diet, I should be a better person, etc. There’s a never-ending supply of negativity to feed myself, and the behavior is so ingrained I don’t realize I’m doing it.

I am incredibly lonely but I have no clue how to relate to people. And then there are the seemingly endless triggers that shut me down when I am around people. Those are usually because something happens that makes me think that 1) they don’t care, or 2) my autonomy is not being respected (which sounds a lot like #1).

When I’m triggered I feel threatened, so I emotionally shut down and defend myself by either fighting or fleeing. This results in over-the-top responses (fighting) or physically or mentally leaving the scene (fleeing). Yesterday, for example, I was triggered twice (that I am aware of). Later when I’d calmed down I saw both were the result of my feeling threatened because I felt no one cared.

This is the down and dirty of healing. It sucks bigtime, and there’s no damn wonder so many of us choose not to go here. I don’t look down on them at all. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t started this journey. But here we are and as I’ve come this far, I may as well keep going.

Photo by Alina Vilchenko on Pexels.com

Some days I am invincible.
I let no one stand in my way,
using but a dismissive glance
to hold all aggressors at bay 

Some days I am open, in tune,
connected to all living things,
welcoming warming energy
with all of the healing it brings.

But some days I am still hiding 
within this self-imposed prison
where no one is allowed inside
and I’m safe from their derision. 

You see, I simply don’t trust you. 
I judge you using the scars from
yesterday’s multiple stab wounds. 
It’s unfair, I know, and seems dumb.

But it’s become second nature
to me and I’m having one hell
of a time making the changes
that would release me from this cell. 

It’s like I’m looking at you through
plexiglass. I want to reach through
and form some sort of connection,
but I have no idea how to. 

I’m devising an escape plan.
Patience is needed; it’s slow go,
and I really don’t like waiting,
still my workmanship is thorough.

One day instead of standing near,
I will let you stand beside me.
I’ll let you touch my many scars
and marvel at my heart’s beauty. 


32 thoughts on “Healing

      1. Gentle hugs, Jen. Sending purrs to you and Yella Fella. I completely get it.

  1. I will be praying your sweet boy is stabilized soon. It is not your fault. You are an excellent mom to him. XO

  2. I get all of this. Wish I had words of comfort. But all I can offer is you aren’t alone in this way: I feel as you do in many respects (taking unearned blame, reading cues, firing up when I feel misunderstood). FWIW. Love you


  3. Wishing you both all the best. Don’t be so hard on yourself, although I experienced something similar in the past and I know it can be very difficult.

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