How Do You Heal When the Past Still Has a Keycard?
Dear Brewtiful,
A few months ago, I had a really negative experience with someone I considered an acquaintance—maybe even a friend. Unfortunately, they turned out to be quite sinister. Since then, I’ve made significant strides in my personal life.
I’ve moved on—turned things around, even. But I still get hit with waves of PTSD whenever I have to deal with them at work, or when certain memories resurface. Part of this stems from my OCD, my ego, and a deep-seated desire for justice. How can I cope with these feelings and keep moving forward?
Sincerely,
Triggered and Seeking Peace
Dear Triggered and Seeking Peace,
Let’s just say it: moving on doesn’t mean your nervous system got the memo.
Yes, you’ve made progress. You’ve rebuilt. You’ve survived something twisted and unspoken. And yet, there they are. Still in your orbit. Still triggering a version of you that feels like she’s trapped in an emotional fire drill. It’s rage. It’s fear. It’s injustice that doesn’t get tied up neatly—and you’re not crazy for feeling all of it.
Here’s what I need you to hear first:
Your feelings aren’t an overreaction. They’re a response.
To betrayal. To proximity. To a wound your body hasn’t stopped guarding.
Let’s unravel this gently.
1. PTSD Isn’t a Thought. It’s a Pattern Your Body Learned to Survive.
This is not just “thinking about it too much.” It’s hypervigilance coded into your breath, the way you freeze up at the sound of a Slack notification or tighten your jaw when you see their name. PTSD isn’t cured by clarity—it’s calmed by consistency. So be patient with your body. It’s trying to protect you, even if the danger is just a memory.
2. Justice Is a Beautiful Concept. But Sometimes You Have to Choose Peace Over Closure.
You want justice because what happened was wrong. And because they never really had to reckon with it. I get it. But here’s the quiet truth: sometimes justice won’t come in the form you want. And holding out for it can become its own form of captivity. So ask yourself: What would peace look like if justice never came?
Then build that life anyway.
3. You’re Not Angry Because You Haven’t Healed. You’re Angry Because You Still Have to See Them.
Proximity is its own kind of retraumatization. Healing is hard enough—but healing while still having to play professional chess across from the person who hurt you? That’s advanced-level resilience. If you can create boundaries, do it. If not, create emotional exits: headphones, short replies, a mantra. Something like: I do not owe this moment my peace.
4. Rage Is Intelligence. Channel It. Don’t Shame It.
Your anger is sacred. It’s your ego reminding you that you didn’t deserve what happened. That you’re worth defending. So channel it—into writing, art, therapy, movement. Don’t waste it on them. Use it to create a future so rich, they’re irrelevant.
5. Your OCD and PTSD Might Intertwine—But You Are Not the Loop.
When your brain starts spinning—why did this happen, why did I freeze, what should I have said—pause. Breathe. Remind yourself:
That’s the past trying to rewrite itself. I’m in the present now.
Grounding helps. Breath helps. Even cold water on your wrists.
Your job isn’t to stop the thoughts.
It’s to not believe them every time they scream.
6. You’ve Already Won. But That Doesn’t Mean You Won’t Still Bleed Sometimes.
You turned your life around. That’s the mic drop. That’s the power move.
But healing isn’t linear. Some days, you’ll feel like you’re thriving. Other days, one glance from them will unearth everything. This is still progress. You’re learning to hold it all—and keep living anyway.
Final Word?
You don’t have to forgive. You don’t have to forget.
You just have to reclaim your power inch by inch, moment by moment, until your nervous system trusts the world again. And that? That’s more radical than revenge.
You’re not just surviving. You’re alchemy in motion.
So keep going.
Not because you have to prove anything.
But because peace—real, earned peace—is still waiting for you. And you deserve every damn breath of it.
With unshakable softness and hard-won truth,
Brewtiful
