Let’s just be real: recovery from trauma isn’t linear, and it sure as hell isn’t symptom-free.
People love to pretend healing looks like morning yoga, green juice, and “letting it all go.” But most of the folks I’ve worked with wake up every day with flashbacks, anxiety, insomnia, or numbness still riding shotgun. The difference is they’ve learned how to drive anyway.
That’s what recovery is. Not erasure. Not perfection. Just getting to a point where your trauma doesn’t dictate every thought, decision, and breath.
You don’t live under it anymore.
You live with it.
Safety First—Literally
You can’t heal in chaos. You can’t unpack trauma when your nervous system is stuck in survival mode – when it thinks eviction, violence, or abandonment might be around the corner. That’s why safe housing matters. And no, not just “a roof over your head.” Safe housing means a door that locks, a space that’s quiet, affordable, and doesn’t come with verbal abuse or emotional landmines. It means being able to exhale without flinching.
Without that kind of safety, don’t expect someone to “work on themselves.” They’re too busy staying alive. According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), stable housing is one of the four key pillars of recovery alongside health, purpose, and community. Makes sense. Try healing from trauma while couch surfing, or worse, living with the same people who hurt you. You won’t.
If you’ve seen STRAW, the new Tyler Perry film, you probably saw this in action. That storyline didn’t just show stress; it showed what survival mode looks like when there’s no safe space to land. And it’s not fiction for a lot of people. It’s reality.
Until basic safety is in place, recovery can’t begin. Period
Structure Saves People—Even the Ones Who Look “Unmotivated”
Most people labeled “non-functioning” aren’t lazy. They’re maxed out. Overloaded. Fried. Executive dysfunction, dissociation, burnout—these aren’t character flaws. They’re symptoms. And no, a motivational quote isn’t going to fix them. But structure? It helps. Not rigid schedules or productivity cult nonsense.
I’m talking about basic scaffolding, just enough to keep someone tethered to the present.
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Knowing what day it is
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Having one small task in the morning
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Having a reason to take a shower that isn’t rooted in shame
Sometimes it’s a pet that needs food.
Sometimes it’s a peer group where someone notices if you’re missing.
Sometimes it’s just a 2 p.m. appointment that forces you to stay conscious until then.
These things matter. They don’t cure trauma, but they interrupt the internal chaos just enough to help a person take one more breath, one more step, one more day.
Structure is what gives the nervous system something to grip when everything else feels like quicksand.
Purpose Doesn’t Have to Be Big. It Just Has to Be Real.
Not everyone’s going to write a memoir, start a nonprofit, or build a business out of their pain. That’s fine. But people do need something—a reason to get out of bed. A plant to water. A friend who texts back. A song they want to hear again tomorrow. Recovery needs anchors. I’ve seen people stabilize faster from one meaningful volunteer shift per week than from five different meds. Not because the meds didn’t help, but because meaning gives structure something to hold onto.
STOP Throwing Labels at People. START Throwing Lifelines.
I’m not against diagnosis. It can help people understand what they’re up against. But a label alone doesn’t fix anything.
Staying someone is “BPD.” “CPTSD.” “Schizoaffective.”
Okay – there. You may temporarily feel better but, now what?
You can’t label someone into wholeness. You can’t pathologize someone into recovery. Connection heals people. So does dignity. And affordable medication. And not having to pick between therapy and groceries. Most people who “can’t function” aren’t broken. They’re unsupported. They’ve been trying to survive in a system that punishes instability instead of resourcing it.
Recovery = Management, Not Elimination
There’s a dangerous myth floating around that healing means your symptoms disappear. That if you’re still triggered or anxious or dissociating now and then, you must not be doing it right.
That’s not how this works.
Recovery doesn’t mean you stop having symptoms. It means you stop letting them run your life.
You learn what sets you off – and what helps you come back.
Maybe instead of spiraling for three weeks, you spiral for three hours, then take a shower and drink some water.
- The symptoms don’t vanish. They just lose their power.
- You start recognizing patterns. You build a toolbox.
- And yeah, you take more responsibility for your stability than anyone ever took for your safety.
That’s what recovery looks like. Not perfection, just more control than chaos.
And Here’s the Hard Part: You’re 100% Responsible Now
What happened to you wasn’t your fault. But healing from it? That’s fully on you.
- You’re not responsible for the abuse.
- You’re not responsible for the neglect, the betrayal, or the systems that looked the other way.
But you are responsible for what you do with it now. How long you let it steer your decisions, dictate your relationships, or shape your future is fully your responsibility.
This isn’t about blame. It’s about ownership.
You can’t build a different life while waiting for an apology that might never come, or wait on a rescuer who isn’t on the way.
You’re it.
And yeah, that’s heavy.
But it’s also the most freeing thing you’ll ever realize.
Final Word
Recovery is messy. It’s not tidy or photogenic. It’s not always visible to others, but it’s real.
It starts the moment you decide your pain doesn’t get to tell the whole story anymore.
And it keeps going every time you show up tired, triggered, and unpolished.
Safety, structure, and purpose aren’t luxury items. They’re not “self-care.” They’re survival tools.
They are what make healing possible in the first place.
And no matter what anyone else tells you, only you decide what your healing looks like.
Not the system. Not a diagnosis. Not a social media timeline or your favorite influencer.
Just you. On your own terms.
Photo by Simone Hutsch on Unsplash
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Dr. Mozelle Martin is a retired trauma therapist and former Clinical Director of a trauma center, with extensive experience in forensic psychology, criminology, and applied ethics. A survivor of childhood and young adulthood trauma, Dr. Martin has dedicated decades to understanding the psychological and ethical complexities of trauma, crime, and accountability. Her career began as a volunteer in a women’s domestic violence shelter as a hospital advocate, later becoming a Police Crisis Therapist working alongside law enforcement on the streets of Phoenix. She went on to earn an AS in Psychology, a BS in Forensic Psychology, an MA in Criminology, and a PhD in Applied Ethics, ultimately working extensively in forensic mental health—providing psychological assessments, crisis intervention, and rehabilitative support within prisons and jails. Dr. Martin is also pursuing advanced legal studies at ASU Law, focusing on internet/cyber-defamation and constitutional law to advocate for stronger protections against targeted professional attacks online. A published author and lifelong student of life, she continues to explore the intersections of forensic science, mental health, and ethical accountability in both historical and modern contexts.
