Healing, Glowing, and Growing – One Act of Self-Care At a Time

Yesterday, I shared a video of myself unraveling — not the delicate kind of crying people are comfortable witnessing, but the kind that comes from somewhere deep, somewhere old, somewhere my body has been guarding for years.

What spilled out of me wasn’t just sadness.

It was rage.

A rage I’ve carried ever since trauma rewired the way I moved through the world.

PTSD from MST isn’t just memories or nightmares — it’s years of surviving without breathing. Years of shrinking myself just to get through each day. Years of pretending I was “fine” because the truth felt too dangerous to touch.

And when survival mode finally loosens its grip?

All the emotions you buried for safety come storming back like a flood that refuses to stay behind the dam.

That’s what happened yesterday.

I felt anger for the younger version of me who wasn’t protected.

Anger for the silence I was forced to live inside.

Anger for the years I lost to hypervigilance, fear, dissociation — all the invisible ways PTSD steals time.

Anger for the life I could have lived if someone had listened sooner… believed sooner… cared sooner.

Healing from MST is not graceful.

It is not quiet.

It is not a soft, beautiful rise from the ashes.

Sometimes it’s a scream no one else understands.

Sometimes it’s shaking hands and a pounding heart.

Sometimes it’s sitting on the floor with your chest wide open, grieving the pieces of yourself you never got to grow.

And yes — sometimes it’s rage.

Not the “out of control” kind people warn you about,

but the kind that finally tells the truth.

The kind that says: I deserved better.

The kind that says: What happened to me mattered.

The kind that says: I’m done carrying this alone.

That video wasn’t a setback.

It was a release.

My body finally felt safe enough to unclench the trauma it held like a secret.

Rage is not the opposite of healing.

It’s a sign that the numbness is cracking.

It’s the sound of your voice returning after years of silence.

It’s the moment your truth stops whispering and finally begins to roar.

If you’ve ever felt that kind of anger on your healing journey — the kind that burns and cleanses at the same time — know this:

You are not “going backwards.”

You are not “too much.”

You are not broken.

You are grieving the years you survived.

You are reclaiming the parts trauma tried to take.

You are stepping out of silence and back into yourself.

And honestly?

This is where healing begins —

not in the neat moments,

but in the ones that shake something loose

and finally let you breathe.

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You can explore the tools I have created for my own personal healing journey here:

👉 Stan Store: https://stan.store/Shroompy

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