Where did you run to, so far away? I’m still here. And I still don’t belong.

The more I heal, the more alone and disconnected I feel.

The pieces of myself I’ve been stitching together don’t fit into the world I’m returning to.

I used to think healing would bring me closer to people. Lately, it feels like it’s pushing me further out.

My wife surprised me with a trip to get ice cream.I wanted to enjoy it—really, I did.But the crowded sidewalk, the noise inside, the bodies too close, disorganized register layout…It overwhelmed me.

I told her it was a nice surprise, but it was too much. Kindness feels sharp against my skin lately.

I’m scared. Scared that this life is becoming too much.

That my CPTSD will eventually swallow up the things we used to enjoy.

I’m afraid she’ll get tired of making room for me. She’ll want to order ice cream without making sure I face the door or need to stand in a certain spot.

Insurance made therapy unaffordable again.So now I sit with all of it—No outlet, no guide.Life is wearing on. I feel the progress I worked so hard for is waning. I want to close my eyes in the backseat of a car and never hear, “we’re home.” I won’t ever be home.