Abundance Wellness

One of the heaviest things a trauma survivor carries is guilt they were never meant to carry.

Let me explain what I mean — because this is one of the most clinically important distinctions in trauma recovery, and it rarely gets discussed clearly.

Guilt is a legitimate emotion. If you genuinely did something harmful — if your choices directly caused damage to yourself or someone else — guilt is appropriate. It is, in fact, a signal worth listening to.

But here is what happens for the vast majority of trauma survivors:

The guilt they carry has nothing to do with anything they actually did wrong.

Consider this scenario.

Susan was sexually abused at age six. Her abuser was a 35-year-old coach, left in charge of her while her single mother was away on a business trip.

Decades later, Susan still blames herself for what happened.

Ask yourself honestly: what percentage of responsibility did Susan bear for that abuse?

When we look at the facts — her age, the power imbalance, the position of trust her abuser held, the structural failures that left her unprotected — the answer is clear. And yet Susan, like countless trauma survivors, had internalised a guilt that was never hers to carry.

This is what trauma does. It distorts the lens through which we view our own responsibility.

A clinical tool that can help: the responsibility pie.

Rather than asking "am I guilty?" — try asking instead:

→ Who were all the people and factors involved in what happened?
→ What percentage of responsibility does each one actually bear?
→ What percentage does the perpetrator hold?
→ What do circumstances, systems, or institutions owe?
→ And only then — what, if anything, is mine?

For most survivors, when they work through this honestly, often with the support of a therapist, their actual share of responsibility is a fraction of what they have been punishing themselves for.

Another powerful reframe: approach your story like a reporter.

Not a judge. Not a prosecutor. A reporter.

What happened? Why did it happen? Why did it happen to me? Why did I act the way I did? What would I do differently if I could? What do the facts — not the shame, not the self-blame, but the facts — actually say?

This kind of honest, structured inquiry separates real responsibility from distorted guilt. And that separation is where healing begins.

Because guilt carried for something that was never your fault is not conscience.

It is a wound. And wounds deserve care — not punishment.

💬 Have you ever worked through the process of honestly examining your level of responsibility for something traumatic? What shifted when you did? I'd love to hear your reflections below.

below.

"Depression is the stop sign of the soul."

That line stopped me in my tracks when I first encountered it — and I think it will stop many of you too.

It comes from the work of Linda Kohanov, who writes that depression frequently follows periods of sadness, fear, anger, or grief — specifically when we haven't listened to what those emotions were trying to tell us.

In other words: depression isn't always a malfunction. Sometimes it's a message.

It shows up when the soul says: enough. Not yet. Wait.

In trauma recovery, this reframe matters enormously:

🔹 Depression can act as an emergency brake — preventing us from moving forward before we're ready, or from moving into situations that could cause more harm.

🔹 Depression often follows unprocessed emotion — the anger that was never expressed, the grief that was never named, the fear that was never heard.

🔹 Depression is frequently anger turned inward — when rage has nowhere safe to go, it collapses back on the self. Learning to work with anger, especially self-directed anger, is one of the most direct pathways out.

🔹 Depression depletes energy — and recovery asks us to find new sources of it, even small ones.

If you are in depression right now — or supporting someone who is — here are the questions that can begin to open it up:

→ What was happening just before this depression arrived?
→ What emotion might have come before it that wasn't fully expressed?
→ What might this depression be protecting you from?
→ Where, even in a tiny way, could you find one source of energy today?

Depression is not a character flaw. It is not laziness. It is not weakness.

In the context of trauma, it is often the mind and body saying: I have been carrying too much, for too long, without enough support.

That deserves compassion — not judgment.

If depression ever intensifies to the point of suicidal thoughts, please reach out to a mental health professional or a crisis line. You do not have to carry that alone.

💬 Has thinking of depression as a message — rather than a malfunction — ever shifted something for you? I'd love to hear your thoughts.


What tool will you try first? ✨

Nobody talks about this part of trauma recovery:

The anger that isn't really about what just happened.

It's about everything that happened.

Trauma-based anger is one of the least understood — and most damaging — parts of living with PTSD. And it rarely looks the way people expect.

It doesn't always come out as a roar. Sometimes it's the slow simmer that poisons relationships over years. Sometimes it's turned entirely inward — becoming depression, self-destruction, or physical illness. Sometimes it explodes at completely the wrong person, over something completely unrelated.

Here's a clinical distinction worth knowing:

Anger and rage are not the same thing.

Rage is anger accompanied by helplessness. It emerges when you believe you have no control — over the situation, over the person who hurt you, over the outcome. For trauma survivors, that helplessness was often very real.

And here's what makes trauma-based anger especially complex:

→ It can be out of all proportion to what triggered it — because the trigger isn't the real source
→ It can become a learned pattern — irritability and frustration that spreads to people who did nothing wrong
→ It can be mistaken for strength — when it's actually masking grief, fear, or profound sadness
→ It can be kept bottled up — until it surfaces as illness, chronic pain, or breakdown
→ When it turns inward — it becomes shame, guilt, and self-punishment

But here's what the research also tells us: anger, expressed appropriately, is not the enemy.

Anger is a warning system. It tells you your boundaries have been violated. It tells you something needs to change. At its best, it becomes motivation — the fuel for advocacy, for saying "never again," for building something better from the wreckage.

The question to sit with is this:

What is my anger actually trying to protect or restore?

Because until that question gets answered — honestly, with support — anger tends to find its own outlet. And those outlets rarely serve the person carrying it.

If you work in trauma care, or if you are in recovery yourself — this is some of the most important and underacknowledged work there is.

💬 Have you seen — or experienced — anger that was really something else underneath? I'd love to hear your reflections below.

Your anger makes complete sense. 🔥

If you've been through trauma, anger isn't a character flaw.

It's a response to injustice.

When something terrible happens — especially when it was done TO you, by someone who was supposed to protect you — rage is one of the most natural things in the world.

But here's what many people don't realise about trauma-based anger:

It rarely stays aimed at the right target. 💛

Instead, it spills onto the people closest to you.
It turns inward — as self-blame, self-destruction, self-punishment.
It gets redirected at "the system" — the courts, the institutions, the people who were supposed to help and didn't.
It erupts over small things — because the real thing is too big, too painful, too unresolved to face directly.

You might be angry at:
→ The person who hurt you
→ People who seem untouched by what you went through
→ Yourself — for not stopping it, not escaping, not being "over it" by now
→ Your own symptoms, still ambushing you years later
→ A world that didn't protect you when it should have

ALL of that anger is valid. 🙏

The question isn't whether you have the right to be angry.

You do.

The question is: is the anger working FOR you — or is it quietly destroying you and the people you love?

Anger, at its best, can be fuel. It can motivate change. It can power advocacy. It can be the thing that says "never again."
But when anger stays trapped — unexpressed, misdirected, or turned inward — it becomes something else entirely.

The first step isn't getting rid of the anger.

It's getting honest about where it's really coming from. 🤍

Save this if it speaks to you.

💬 Have you ever felt your anger land on the wrong person or place — and known, even in the moment, that it wasn't really about them? You're not alone. Share below. 👇

What if fear isn't the enemy? 🤍

Fear is actually one of your oldest survival systems. It was designed to protect you — to sound the alarm when real danger was near.

But for trauma survivors, that alarm can get stuck. 🔔

And suddenly, the world starts to feel like a constant war zone — even when you're safe.

You might recognise this as:
→ Feeling jumpy for no obvious reason
→ Muscles that won't stop tensing
→ Stomach pain, headaches, or nausea before certain situations
→ Scanning a room the moment you walk in
→ Waiting — always waiting — for something bad to happen

That's not weakness.
That's a nervous system that learned fear was the only way to stay alive. 💛

Here's what helped me understand it better:

Fear carries a message. Instead of running from it, try asking:

💭 "What is this fear actually trying to protect me from?"
💭 "Is this danger real right now — or is this a memory speaking?"
💭 "What would I need to feel safe enough to take one small step forward?"

And if fear ever tips into panic — know this:

A panic attack, as terrifying as it feels, is not dangerous. It will pass — usually within 5 to 10 minutes. You are not dying. Your body is just misfiring an old alarm. 🙏

When panic comes:
1️⃣ Notice the physical signs early
2️⃣ Slow your breathing down — consciously
3️⃣ Name the trigger if you can
4️⃣ Ground yourself — feet on floor, eyes open, look around
5️⃣ Remind yourself: this will pass. It always does.
6️⃣ When it does — take credit. You got through it. 💪

Healing from fear-based trauma isn't about becoming fearless.

It's about learning to hear what fear is saying — and choosing your response, instead of being ruled by it.

Save this for a hard day. 🤍

💬 What's one thing that helps you when fear takes over? Share below — your answer could help someone today.




Learn more: https://wix.to/YEJ0llo

I want to share a simple exercise that reveals something profound about where you are in your healing.

Read this list of words slowly:

abandoned · accepted · anxious · brave · calm · betrayed · courageous · crushed · defeated · delighted · desperate · ecstatic · embarrassed · fulfilled · grateful · hopeless · hopeful · inadequate · joyful · lonely · peaceful · powerless · proud · remorseful · safe · shamed · thrilled · tortured · trusted · vulnerable · worthwhile · withdrawn

Now ask yourself two questions:

1. Which of these do I actually KNOW — meaning I can feel them in my body when I read the word?
2. Which have I felt in the past two weeks?

What does your answer tell you?

For many trauma survivors, this exercise is quietly confronting — not because the list is overwhelming, but because of what's missing.

Some people discover they can only truly access 3 or 4 emotions. Rage. Sadness. Numbness. Maybe shame. The rest — joy, peace, delight, pride — feel like words that belong to other people's lives.

Others discover the opposite: that they are flooded by nearly every painful emotion on the list, with almost no access to the positive ones.

Both patterns are common. Both are the fingerprints of trauma on the emotional system.

Here's what this exercise teaches us:

🔹 Emotional range is a skill — and trauma shrinks it. Healing expands it again.

🔹 The emotions we can't name, we can't process. And what we can't process, we carry — in our bodies, our relationships, our behaviors.

🔹 Healing isn't just about reducing pain. It's about recovering the full spectrum — being able to feel joy as genuinely as grief, peace as genuinely as fear.

🔹 Noticing the gap between what you know intellectually and what you can actually feel — that is the beginning of emotional awareness. And emotional awareness is the beginning of everything else.

An emotionally healthy person can look at that list and move fluidly across it — recognising each feeling, naming it, sitting with it, and letting it pass. That is the goal. Not the absence of difficult emotions, but the capacity to hold them without being destroyed by them.

If you work with trauma survivors — or if you are one — I'd encourage you to try this exercise today. Just read the list. Notice what lights up. Notice what feels foreign.

What you find might surprise you.

💬 When you look at a list like that, are there emotions you struggle to access? I'd love to hear your reflections below.

What if your emotions aren't the problem?

What if they're actually trying to help you? 💛

Here's something that changed how I think about healing from trauma:

Emotions are messages. Every single one of them — even the ones that feel unbearable — carries information. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Shame. They aren't signs that something is wrong with you. They are your body and mind trying to communicate something important.

This is called emotional agility — the ability to hear what an emotion is telling you, instead of just being swept away by it.

For many trauma survivors, emotions feel like one of two things:

😶 Completely numb — stuck in just one or two feelings (usually rage or deep sadness), unable to access a fuller range.

🌊 Completely overwhelming — going from okay to crisis in seconds, with no ability to slow it down.

Both responses make complete sense. Trauma rewires how we experience and regulate emotion. It's not weakness. It's survival.

But here's what healing asks us to do — gently, over time:

Start listening to the message BEHIND the emotion.

Try asking yourself:
👉 What is this feeling trying to tell me?
👉 What might it turn into if I keep pushing it away?
👉 How can I feel this without letting it take over?
👉 What does my BODY feel when this emotion shows up?

That last one matters more than people realise. Emotions live in the body — in tension, in breath, in a clenched jaw or a tight chest. If you struggle to name what you're feeling, start there. Start with the body.

There are five main families of difficult emotions:
😠 Anger (from irritation all the way to rage)
😨 Fear (from nervousness all the way to terror)
😢 Sadness (from discouragement all the way to grief)
😵 Confusion
😞 Depression

Each painful emotion also has an opposite:
Fear ↔ Hope
Sadness ↔ Joy
Hate ↔ Love

Part of healing is slowly expanding your emotional range — learning to feel more, name more, and eventually access both sides of that spectrum.

You started life with the full potential to be a healthy, feeling human being. Trauma interrupted that. But it didn't end it.

Your emotions are still there. Still sending messages. Still waiting to be heard. 🙏

💬 Which emotion has been the hardest for you to sit with? You don't have to answer — but if you feel safe to share, this community is here. 💙

I will be okay one day."

That's not an affirmation. That's a wish.

Here's the difference — and it matters more than most people realise.

Affirmations work in the present tense. Not "I will do a good job." But "I do a good job." Not "I will be safe." But "I am safe."

Why does this matter? Because your brain responds to what you tell it is true right now — not what you promise it for the future.

In trauma recovery, this is especially powerful. Our fears often speak in the present tense ("I am not safe," "I cannot cope," "I am broken"). Our affirmations need to meet them there.

And if the affirmation doesn't feel completely true yet? That's okay. Try this:

Instead of: "I am a confident person."
Try: "I am becoming a more confident person."
Or: "I am constantly working toward confidence."

The conditional form keeps it honest — and keeps it moving forward.

Here's how to make affirmations actually stick:

✏️ Write them down — the act of writing engages your eyes, your hand, your voice, and your mind all at once. That multisensory repetition accelerates belief change.

🔁 Repeat them — at least 20 times a day. Fill a page before bed, saying each one aloud as you write it. Begin your morning the same way.

🚨 Have crisis affirmations ready — short, action-based statements for hard moments:
"I am able to do what is best for me."
"I can get through this."
"I am stronger than this moment."

📌 Keep them personal — affirmations written in your own language, reflecting your own life, land far deeper than borrowed words.

What affirmations are NOT:
❌ A way to avoid your emotions
❌ A tool to control others or outcomes
❌ A replacement for doing the hard work of healing

They are simply one of the most accessible, repeatable ways to slowly — and genuinely — change how you see yourself.

The invitation today: write three affirmations that reflect who you are becoming. Write each one five times. Say them out loud.

Then do it again tomorrow.

💬 Do you have an affirmation that has genuinely shifted something for you? Drop it in the comments — your words could be exactly what someone else needs today.

"I am enough."
"I am safe."
"I am worthy of healing."

If those words feel uncomfortable or even false right now — that's not a sign affirmations don't work. That's exactly where the work begins.

In trauma recovery, the negative beliefs we hold about ourselves aren't random. They were built — layer by layer — through experiences that told us we were powerless, at fault, or broken. Affirmations are one of the tools we use to rebuild.

But here's what most people get wrong about affirmations: they expect instant belief. Real change doesn't work that way.

Research points to six stages of belief change — and affirmations play a role at every one:

1️⃣ Precontemplation — "My negative beliefs are just facts. I don't need to change them."
2️⃣ Contemplation — "Maybe some of these beliefs aren't serving me."
3️⃣ Preparation — "What would I actually want to say to myself instead?"
4️⃣ Action — Writing or speaking affirmations daily — even when they feel forced.
5️⃣ Maintenance — "I'm starting to believe this, at least some of the time."
6️⃣ Termination — "I actually am okay. And when I forget, I find my way back."

That last stage is the goal — not perfection, but resilience.

A few things make affirmations more effective:

→ Start with "I" or "My" — make it personal
→ Write in the present tense, not the future ("I am" not "I will be")
→ Create your own — borrowed words rarely land as deeply as your own
→ Repeat them — real change is repetitive and gradual, not sudden

You are the best author of your own affirmations. No one knows what you need to hear more than you do.

💬 Do you use affirmations in your own life or your practice? What has worked — or not worked — for you? Share below.