Healing Is Painful. It Can Still Be Manageable.

One of the therapists I went to told me my PTSD was “off the civilian chart.” She described it as what she’d consider low-level military PTSD, even though I’d never served.

I just stared at her and blinked. My mouth was slightly open, and I’m pretty sure I was squinting, trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

What was I supposed to do with that?

At the time, I could barely open my mouth to speak without crying. I couldn’t sleep. At home, I kept the shades drawn, my plants started to wilt, and the mess piled up.

I’d gone looking for answers. I wanted to know what was happening to me, and I wanted some idea of what I could do when I got home. I left that conversation still wondering where to begin.

When You Know What You Need

In the Wild Moon Healing framework, there’s medicine in recognizing what phase you’re in. And when everything feels like too much, knowing how to move can matter more than knowing where you are.

Say you’re in a Waxing Moon phase. You’re building something new in your life, and the medicine for that phase is support. You know you could use a hand. Then you think about the last time you asked for help and how it felt to be let down.

Why would I ask again?

So you press on. Doing everything by yourself. By the time you’re overwhelmed, even asking for help can feel like one more thing you have to do.

Healing is painful sometimes. Even asking for support can bring up the hurt of being disappointed before. The next step can still be small enough to take.

An Easy Entry Point

This is where I turn to the Healing Spiral. I can make a little space, slow my pace, and notice what’s happening without having to figure out what to do with all of it today.

Sometimes the first thing I have to admit is that I’m overwhelmed. Sometimes I have to acknowledge that I’m in a period of depression. I can feel my energy shift a little when I finally say it to myself. It gives me enough room to ask what I can actually do today.

I can spend a long time thinking about the dishes, the plants, and everything else I’ve let slide. When I catch myself going over the shame list, it helps me to shift from thinking to sensing.

I can feel cold water on my face.

I can put my bare feet on the ground.

I can sit somewhere quiet for five minutes.

Sometimes I need to get my thoughts out on paper, with zero filter. Sometimes I clear one corner of the counter and give myself permission to stop there.

I start with whatever feels doable that day.

Healing Is Painful. Small Steps Can Help.

Trust needs proof.

Sometimes I only need an ounce of it to get myself moving again.

I wash my face, and then I find myself watering the plants.

I clear a few dishes and realize I have enough in me to finish them.

Some days I stop after the first few. That's okay.

Either way, I’ve given myself one small experience of being able to move when I felt stuck.

That can matter when the next step brings up something painful.

If you’re in that Waxing Moon phase and need support, maybe the ask is, “Could you sit with me for ten minutes while I get started?”  For me, that also means asking them to skip the cheering. It feels condescending and pisses me off. Sometimes I just want someone to sit beside me while I begin.

You might still remember how it felt the last time someone let you down. That memory deserves acknowledgment. Give yourself time to notice whether this person can offer the support you’re asking for today.

PTSD is still part of my life.

Depression is part of my rhythm.

These days, they’re quieter.

When I notice the shades have stayed closed, I ask myself a question:

What do I actually have room for today?

Let the answer be the answer.