Hello Darkness my Old Friend...

A few years ago, I was having lunch with an old friend from college—someone I hadn’t seen in over twenty years. He made some offhand comment about me being a mess. Looking back at that time, my first thought was, well, shit, he saw me at the lowest point in my life.

That judgment felt kind of harsh coming from him, but it also made me think. I started reflecting on where I am now and what I’ve learned about what I’ve been holding in my body and nervous system all these years—this chronic PTSD—and I had to ask myself:

How do you even define the lowest point in your life when you live with chronic PTSD?

Was it when the abuse was actually happening and I was trapped?

Was it the years that followed—those long years of intense self-loathing, self-blame, and the horrible relationships that reinforced both?

Was it when repressed memories started resurfacing, and I was reliving the whole thing in real time through flashbacks, invasive dreams, and intrusive thoughts—still caught in the cycle of toxic relationships and shame?

Or maybe it was later, when I thought I was finally getting my life together, only to realize I’d married an addict. When I was plunged back into self-hatred and doubt, still trying to process it all.

Or maybe it was after that—when I thought I might finally get free—and then my soulmate dog died, my father passed, I had to leave my home to care for my mother with Alzheimer’s, then the whole world shut down in a pandemic, claiming my mother… 

Maybe it was when I came back to what was left of my life, got divorced after twenty-two years of dedicating myself to my family, and found myself trying to figure out who the hell I even was—still surrounded by people who couldn’t show up for me, still filled with self-loathing and doubt, clawing my way out of a deep, dark pit.

And then realizing another layer of the darkness again, at fifty-nine years old, living in poverty, with nothing left but the will to keep clawing toward something better.

So yeah—how do you define the darkest moment in all that? Because honestly, it all feels pretty dark.

But here’s the thing about darkness: that’s where everything grows.

Is growth fun? Not always. Growth is hard. Growth is painful. It asks us to stretch and reach and look at things that aren’t comfortable, that aren’t fun. But good things come from growth. Healing comes from growth. Freedom comes from growth.

And even in the darkest soil, something beautiful can take root.

If you’re in your dark season right now, keep going. You may not see it yet, but something in you is already growing toward the light. And the part of you that holds your truth is fueling your rebirth. Know that this part is always there, even when you feel completely alone » especially then. 

Learning how to tap into that part of me was a lifeline; it gave me hope when I was drowning in the depths. It reminded me of who I am, why I am here, and lit the path to the surface. 

You are never truly alone. I know it feels that way, I do. But the light that IS YOU? That never ceases. That never abandons. It is always there, and it is never too late to reach for it.

I am here to support and you can trust that I will never gaslight you in your recovery.