Thoughts Over Coffee with Shanon from Surviving Childhood Trauma ☕️ Join me for a cup of coffee and some real talk about complex PTSD and trauma healing and recovery.
I have been unpacking the grief, fear, anxiety, frustration, and powerlessness I feel as I transition into my new place and it called for me to unpack some of my childhood fears with instability.
An Unwanted Change
My family and I lived at our last home for 12 years; the longest I have lived anywhere in my life. It was the home that felt safe for the first time in my life and where my healing journey began. It is where I lived when hubby and I tied the knot and where we brought our child home from the hospital.
Our move was not something we chose, it was the unfortunate side of renting; our landlord took their home back. I think that is the reason this emotional flashback from my childhood has unleashed itself on me relentlessly in recent months: the powerlessness feelings that came from this.
No Stability In Childhood
I first moved at the age of 3ish when my father brought me from California to Washington state and into the first apartment I remember. We lived there for about eight years and then my dad got a job and we moved.
The 2nd apt didn’t last too long, my dad lost his job and we were evicted. We moved in with his girlfriend and her kid. It was a 2bdrm and tight quarters, I slept in the dining room area. They split soon after and then we went to sleep in the living room of my aunt’s house.
It was shortly after that I made the decision to go back to California and live with my good grandparents, but that only lasted for two years. After the trial, resources and support failed us, and my rebellion was too much for them. I was shipped off to Illinois to live with my half sister and her mom.
In the 18 months I lived with them before my sister’s mom kicked me out at 17, she moved us five times between three different states.
I continued this pattern of a year here, a couple years there until I moved into my last home at age 31.
Recreating Safety
I never realized how deeply the lack of security or stability regarding not truly having a home as a child has affected me. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as safety in my home until it was disrupted by my former landlord’s letter of notice.
And now I am tasked with grieving that lost sense of safety while trying to recreate it, all the while clinging dearly to the fact that I can trust myself and I can keep myself safe.
On goes the journey 💪🏻❤️🩹🔥
Looking for Ways to Connect With Other Survivors and/or Receive Support as You Heal?
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