Journeys With Jani

Someone asked me recently why I’m so open about things people usually avoid talking about. Trauma. Mental health. Grief. The hard, heavy stuff. Well, here’s the thing—I’ve lived through some things. Not just “bad days” but soul-splitting, gut-punch kind of things. And the truth is, for a long time, I didn’t have the words for it. I didn’t even know it had a name. But it does.

PTSD.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder sounds clinical, like something you only get from a battlefield. But life hands out battlefields in all shapes and sizes. And some of us didn’t wear uniforms—we wore backpacks, wedding rings, scrubs, or just that fake smile we mastered in childhood.

PTSD is when your body keeps sounding the alarm even though the danger is long gone. It’s your brain saying, “Nope, not safe,” when you’re just standing in a grocery store trying to pick out a bag of coffee. It’s exhaustion that no nap can fix. It’s wondering if you’re going crazy because nobody sees what’s chasing you. And it’s hard.

It’s crying for no reason. It’s waking up in the middle of the night with your heart pounding like you ran a marathon. It’s that moment you flinch when someone raises their voice. Or maybe it’s not feeling anything at all—just numb, disconnected. It’s being angry and not knowing why. It’s avoiding people, places, and sometimes, your own thoughts.

Let me be real honest—there is no one-size-fits-all trauma.

Here’s just a sampling of things that can lead to PTSD:

Being abused—physically, emotionally, or sexually

Living in chaos as a child (been there)

Watching someone you love suffer Car accidents

Medical trauma (hello, MS diagnosis)

Domestic violence Losing someone you love suddenly

Going through addiction—yours or someone else’s

Spiritual or religious abuse

Surviving a natural disaster or major life event

Feeling abandoned or betrayed by someone who should’ve protected you

Sometimes, the trauma isn’t what happened—it’s what never did. Never feeling safe. Never being comforted. Never being seen.

So how does it affect you?

In every way. Your relationships. Your sleep. Your self-worth. Your body. Your work. Your sense of joy. You start avoiding things just to avoid feeling. You second-guess your memories. You carry shame that was never yours to begin with.

And healing? It isn’t a straight line. Some days, I’m strong. Other days, I’m not. But every day I get up, pour my coffee, love my people, and try again. That counts.

I want you to hear me loud and clear: you are not broken.

If any of this hits close to home, know this—you are not “too much,” “too damaged,” or “too sensitive.” You’re a survivor. You lived through something hard, and your brain and body are just trying to keep you safe the only way they know how.

Therapy helps. Writing helps (it’s why I blog). Talking helps. Letting yourself feel helps. Healing doesn’t mean forgetting or pretending it didn’t happen. It means learning to live with the memory instead of in it.

And if you love someone with PTSD—be gentle. Ask questions. Don’t push. Just show up.

For me, writing is therapy.

It’s how I sort through the mess in my head and heart. I’ve kept journals since I was little. I was writing long before I had the vocabulary for what I was feeling. And now? I share it. Because maybe someone else is walking around thinking they’re crazy, when really—they just need someone to say, “Me too.”

So here I am. Saying it. Me too.

If you’re fighting this fight, I see you. Keep going. You’re not alone.

XOXO, Jani