From Darkness to Light: Relearning Life After Trauma

The last few years have been some of the most challenging of my life. I’ve endured life-changing trauma, the kind that reshapes who you are in ways you never expected. Loss, grief, drastic life changes it all hit me in waves, and before I knew it, I was drowning.

I lost people I considered family, some to death, some to life’s changing seasons. I went through major surgeries that forced me to slow down. I watched my parents’ health decline right before my eyes. My career shifted, my income changed, and then, the moment that altered everything I found my father deceased. Just days later, my mother was admitted to the hospital after suffering a stroke. Suddenly, I was planning a funeral while still trying to catch my breath.

Trauma like that doesn’t just affect you emotionally, it manifests in ways you don’t even notice at first. My social skills started shifting I became more withdrawn, more hesitant, less myself. My appearance changed. I stopped caring as much. Grief, stress, and survival mode can strip you of the very essence of who you are.

Then, I had a realization: life without therapy is ghetto.

I couldn’t keep carrying this weight alone. I couldn’t pretend to be okay while my mind and body were screaming for help. So, I made the decision to go back to therapy. I chose to fight for myself in a way I hadn’t before. And slowly, I started to see the light again.

Therapy has been a lifeline, guiding me through the wreckage and showing me that healing isn’t just possible, it’s necessary. I’m learning how to live again, how to step out of survival mode and back into life. It’s not an overnight process, but it’s one I’m committed to.

If you’re in a dark place, please know that you don’t have to stay there. Healing is possible. Hope is real. And you are worthy of the light that’s waiting for you on the other side.

Keep pushing. Keep healing. Keep living.

#pushwithjanay



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

From Hard Hits to Healing: My Seven-Year Journey of Growth, Faith, and Renewal

Life has a way of throwing punches when you least expect it. For the last seven years, it felt like life wouldn’t stop swinging at me. I experienced grief, heartbreak, depression, the weight of caring for sick and dying parents, and the heavy responsibility of being a mother of four all while trying to keep my faith strong. I was the only girl in my family, so funerals, caregiving, comforting others it all fell on me. And to be honest, it got heavy. The Day Everything Changed In May of this year, my Facebook page was hacked and suspended for 180 days. Now, that might not sound like much to some people, but Facebook was a big part of my life. I had thousands of memories, a growing following, monetization, and a national group of over 500 women, my Push Sisters who connected through this platform. Losing it felt like losing a piece of myself. But here’s what I now realize: it was divine interruption. It was a fast I didn’t sign up for but desperately needed. That pause forced me to step ...
Read more

Life Without Therapy Is Ghetto: My Mental Health Journey

Therapy. Whew. Let me just start by saying this life without therapy is ghetto. I’ve lived life with therapy on and off for years, and I can confidently say that having therapy in my life made me better. Stronger. More balanced. And living without it? Yeah, that’s not it. I’m sharing my journey today because mental health is just as important as physical health, especially in our culture. For too long, we’ve been taught to “pray about it” or “just be strong.” But I’ve learned that strength also means knowing when you need help. My Introduction to Therapy: Postpartum Depression I’ve always been a naturally happy, positive person. The one who walks into a room and lights it up. The “Dear Abby” for family and friends when they need advice, encouragement, or just a listening ear. So, when I started to feel like I was struggling to stay happy, I knew something wasn’t right. It took me nine months after giving birth to my youngest daughter who’s now 12 to realize I was dealing with postpart...
Read more