<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" ?><!-- generator=Zoho Sites --><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><atom:link href="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/feed" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><title>Phasing Out of Trauma - Blog</title><description>Phasing Out of Trauma - Blog</description><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs</link><lastBuildDate>Wed, 08 Apr 2026 06:22:48 -0700</lastBuildDate><generator>http://zoho.com/sites/</generator><item><title><![CDATA[Weaving Grace's 1 Phase Closer to Full Healing]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/weaving-grace-s-1-phase-closer-to-full-healing</link><description><![CDATA[<img align="left" hspace="5" src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Closing Phase 1.png"/>At the close of Phase 1, something sacred happens—women begin to tell their stories. In safe, compassionate community, silence breaks, voices rise, and healing begins. What was once hidden starts to transform into truth, connection, and the first steps toward lasting freedom.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_9vbGBfubRbqJSLk0SVYe1w" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_XRI4uP5rT82-Sk5TU0qFjg" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_iaFppXBfTNqiLhd2PN_ahA" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_zrSBh2S9QBesuLxGYz74_g" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true">Holding Space for Their Amazing Gains!</h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm_1Jmajp6qmpFJW_p--JYntg" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_1Jmajp6qmpFJW_p--JYntg"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 1110px ; height: 740.00px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-fit zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Closing%20Phase%201.png" size="fit" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_lJuIDg3tTyurDRV5pZnRfg" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-center zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p style="text-align:left;"></p><div style="text-align:left;"><p>There is a sacred moment that happens at the end of Phase 1—one that cannot be rushed, forced, or manufactured. It is the moment when a woman begins to tell the truth of her story out loud. Here at Phasing Out of Trauma, we never expect to hear the polished version. We always encourage woman to go beyond the minimized version. And because we've all held our own experiences, it's always safe to move past version shaped by what others could handle, and into what really happened.&nbsp;</p><p><br></p><p>At the end of our Phase 1 Study journey, we hold space for each other to hear their stories. And when it happens, we enter the sacred space of empowerment. Because the trauma these women have held silenced their voices. It fragmented their experiences. It convinced them that what happened to them either too much to hold or not enough to matter. Because trauma tangles our memories, buries our voice, and teaches us to survive by staying quiet. But healing begins here in Phase 1 when God enters the story intentionally, and together with Him the pieces of our whole start to come back together—when what was once hidden is gently, courageously brought into the light.</p><p><br></p><p>At the end of Phase 1 in Phasing Out of Trauma, we invite women to begin telling their story in a way that feels safe, honoring, and paced. Not everything. Not all at once. Just what is ready. And what I have witnessed in these moments just last week was been nothing short of holy.</p><p><br></p><p>One incredible woman stood before us and shared her story with a clarity, structure, and depth that felt like listening to a <span>TED Talk</span>. There was power in her voice—not because her story was easy to hear, but because she had begun to see it differently. She made connections between moments in her life that once felt isolated and confusing. She could trace the thread—how early wounds had woven themselves through later experiences—and for the first time, she wasn’t just reliving it… she was understanding it. And in that understanding, there was empowerment. You could feel it.</p><p><br></p><p>Another woman showed us a different kind of courage.</p><p><br></p><p>She named, in real time, how hard it was to even be there. How difficult it felt to admit where she was. How even in a room filled with safety, compassion, and vulnerability, there was still a voice inside her that feared judgment. That wanted to stay hidden. And yet—by saying that out loud—she broke through it.</p><p><br></p><p>Her honesty became the doorway.</p><p><br></p><p>What followed was raw. Sacred. Unfiltered. She shared parts of her story that had been held tightly for so long, and as she offered these pieces of her story to her fellowship group, I could feel the room hold her—not with shock, not with pity, but with understanding. With reverence. That is what happens when a story is received with care. It transforms not only the one who tells it, but the space around her.</p><p><br></p><p>And then there was another woman, who spoke with a coherence we had never heard from her before. Not because her story had suddenly become simple, but because something within her had softened. She gave herself space. She gave herself grace. She extended mercy inward in a way she hadn’t been able to before. And as she spoke, you could hear it—the difference. The gentleness. The ownership. The beginning of integration.</p><p>These are the moments that remind me: healing is not about fixing a person.</p><p><br></p><p>Healing is about restoring our voice.</p><p><br></p><p>Because when a woman tells her story in a safe, compassionate environment, something profound happens in her brain and body. What was once fragmented begins to organize. What was once overwhelming becomes nameable. What was once carried alone is now witnessed. And in that witnessing, the story begins to lose its power to isolate—and instead becomes a pathway to connection, meaning, and healing.</p><p><br></p><p>We are not meant to carry our stories in silence.</p><p><br></p><p>We are meant to tell them. Not with an intention to relive the pain—but to reclaim the narrative stolen by others who abused power and authority in our lives. Before we closed our time together, I offered the women a small glimpse of what comes next. A preview of how their stories might begin to read at the end of Phase 2—after they’ve had time to heal their impressions of God, to come to know Him for who He truly is, and to begin seeing their lives through a different lens. A lens not shaped by trauma alone, but by truth. By presence. By a God who sees.</p><p><br></p><p>Because the story does not end in Phase 1. It begins there. And as it unfolds, what was once a story of survival slowly becomes a story of redemption.</p><p>I am deeply overwhelmed—in the best way—to be invited into these spaces. To sit in the presence of women who are choosing, day by day, to face what they’ve carried and to begin again. It is an honor I don’t take lightly.</p><p><br></p><p>And if you are reading this while holding your own story—still untold, still heavy, still uncertain—I want you to know this:</p><p><br></p><p><span style="font-weight:bold;">You do not have to carry it alone.</span></p><p><br></p><p>When you are ready, there is a place for your story too. And it would be an honor to walk with you.</p></div>
<p></p></div></div><div data-element-id="elm_-MYyE_VySWGJmcCdahgAdg" data-element-type="button" class="zpelement zpelem-button "><style></style><div class="zpbutton-container zpbutton-align-center zpbutton-align-mobile-center zpbutton-align-tablet-center"><style type="text/css"></style><a class="zpbutton-wrapper zpbutton zpbutton-type-primary zpbutton-size-md zpbutton-style-none " href="/cohort-inquiry" target="_blank"><span class="zpbutton-content">Join our Fellowship Wait List Here!</span></a></div>
</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Mon, 30 Mar 2026 20:41:05 +0000</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Trusting God with Our Full Healing]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/trusting-god-with-our-full-healing</link><description><![CDATA[<img align="left" hspace="5" src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Jesus I Trust in You.png"/>A powerful reflection on learning to trust God not just in crisis, but for full healing. Through personal story and the Litany of Trust, discover how surrender, even in doubt, leads to restoration. Jesus, I trust in You.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_DROyM2XzRP6yGkyCW5AJ9A" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_bbCZ9O9wSZGNqxAXJ_mXSw" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_OQbVnDisQNiCttr5LM_tmg" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_CX0626RiT2SDEmIuLwv8wQ" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true">For the Moments of Doubts</h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm_n1lN9nTGZTnemIosX3s1bQ" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_n1lN9nTGZTnemIosX3s1bQ"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 500px ; height: 750.00px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-medium zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Jesus%20I%20Trust%20in%20You.png" size="medium" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_eiGxq69XS2uE31Y-TgA1zA" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-left zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p></p><div><p></p><div><div><p></p><span>There is a quiet moment that comes in healing—one that doesn’t announce itself, but you feel it. It usually comes after you’ve prayed your way through a crisis, after you’ve done what you know to do, after you’ve survived something you weren’t sure you would make it through. The storm begins to settle, and instead of relief, there is a deeper question waiting for you.<br><br><span style="font-style:italic;">"Now what?"</span><br><br> For many of us, this is where we realize that we’ve learned how to trust God to get us through—but not necessarily to make us whole.<br><br> I remember the first time I recognized this in my own journey. I knew how to call on God when everything felt like it was falling apart. I knew how to cry out, how to surrender a moment, how to ask Him to step in when I had nothing left. And He always did. He met me there—in the pain, in the chaos, in the places where I could no longer hold myself together.<br><br> But when the immediate crisis passed, I would slowly gather the pieces of myself back up and carry them on my own again. I trusted Him to rescue me… but I didn’t yet trust Him to heal me completely.<br><br> There is a difference. Partial trust says, “God, help me survive this.” But deeper trust whispers, “God, I give You all of it.” And “all of it” is where things get tender. It’s the parts we’ve learned to live around. The patterns that helped us cope. The beliefs we quietly carry about ourselves—that we are too much, not enough, unworthy, or somehow beyond repair. It’s the places we’ve adapted so well that we don’t even realize we’re still hurting. Full healing asks us to bring those places into the light—not with pressure, but with permission. To let God sit with us there, longer than we’re used to letting anyone stay.<br><br> This is where trust begins to feel less like a concept and more like a choice. And it’s not a choice we make once and move forward. It’s one we make every day. Sometimes every hour. Sometimes every minute. Because sometimes we are living through a moment-by-moment crisis.<br><br> There have been seasons where I could not see what God was doing at all. Seasons where His silence felt louder than His promises. Seasons where I wrestled with Him—not because I didn’t believe in Him, but because I didn’t understand Him. And yet, something in me kept returning.<br><br> Not with certainty.<br> Not with strength.<br> But with fragments.<br><br> "<span style="font-style:italic;">Jesus loves me</span>.<br><span style="font-style:italic;">I am His beloved."</span><br><br> These weren’t phrases I could just declare with confidence. They were memories—memories of two incredible women who came alongside me during my post-abortive healing journey and my healing from sexual abuse. They became the hands, the face, and the heart of Jesus to me. I remembered them in these other painful times of my life not just because of what they said. Because of how they said it. Because of the peace they carried. Because of the way they accompanied me through very hard painful things, and saw the created me - not the traumatized me.&nbsp;<br><br> Through them, I began to believe—slowly, quietly—that I was called to more than just survival. And somewhere in that process, I found the courage to whisper a prayer I didn’t fully understand, but desperately needed: <span style="font-style:italic;">“Jesus, I trust in You.”</span><br><br> Those words became an anchor. And what a gift it was to later find them echoed in the <a href="https://sistersoflife.org/litany-of-trust/" title="Litany of Trust" rel="">Litany of Trust</a> from the Sisters of Life—a prayer I have returned to over and over again. This litany has found me through so many different paths, through so many different people, at exactly the moments I needed it most.<br><br> I have sung it.<br> I have chanted it.<br> I have pleaded it.<br> I have held it silently in the deepest parts of my heart when I couldn’t form another word.<br> I have cried it out for others. And spoken it over situations I could not understand.<br> I have held it as a declaration when everything felt uncertain.<br><br><span style="font-style:italic;">"Jesus, I trust in You."</span><br><br> I’ve prayed it in hospital rooms, in chapels, on retreats, and in parking lots. There is something sacred about giving voice to those words in the middle of uncertainty—not because everything suddenly makes sense, but because we are choosing to remain in relationship with God even when it doesn’t.<br><br> Trust is not the absence of fear, doubt, or anxiety. Trust is the belief that those fears will be met by something greater. That we will not face them alone. That we will be carried through them—shoulder to shoulder—with strength and resilience.<br><br> The litany doesn’t rush us past our fears. It names them. It brings them into the open. One of the deepest fears it uncovered in me was the fear of being unlovable. I've sat in at various ages and stages of my life truly wondering the following thoughts, and I have an idea that some of you reading this struggle with these same things. Have you ever asked:<br><br><span style="font-style:italic;">"How could anyone love me?<br> Accept me?<br> See me as worthy?"<br></span><br> As I write this now, my heart is filled with compassion for the younger versions of me who lived trapped inside that belief for so many years. The Litany of Trust also confronts the fear of being left with less. Because trusting God often means letting go of the world’s definition of “enough” and learning to pursue what is actually good for our soul. And that can feel terrifying.<br><br><span style="font-style:italic;">"Will He provide?<br> Will I be okay?<br> Will I lose everything?"<br></span><br> And still, we return:<br><br><span style="font-style:italic;">"Jesus, I trust in You".<br></span><br> There is also the fear that healing itself will cost us more than we can bear. Because real healing requires us to revisit the pain. To sit with the grief. To acknowledge the anger, the sorrow, the injustice. I know what it’s like to avoid that. To say, <span style="font-style:italic;">“I’m okay.”</span>&nbsp;To insist, <span style="font-style:italic;">“I don’t need help.”</span>&nbsp;To hold everything together with white-knuckled strength.<br><br> But healing came when I stopped holding it alone. When I allowed God to sit with me in it. To hold the pain with me. To begin transforming what I thought would always define me.</span></div>
</div><div><span><br></span></div><div><span>Saying “<span style="font-style:italic;">Jesus, I trust in You”</span> does not mean you suddenly have perfect trust. It doesn’t mean everything makes sense. It doesn’t mean the pain disappears. It doesn’t mean you immediately believe everything will be okay.Sometimes it simply means:<br><br><span style="font-style:italic;">"Help my doubts.<br> Meet me here.<br> Stay with me."</span><br><br> Trust, I’ve learned, is not the absence of questions. It is the decision to stay, even when the questions remain. To believe God is still working when you cannot see movement. Still present when you cannot feel Him. Still good when life does not feel good. And maybe the hardest part of all—<br><br> Trusting that He is not just walking you through something … but shaping something within you that you cannot yet see.<br><br> I didn’t know God was shaping a ministry in me when I began my healing journey. I didn’t know that my honesty and vulnerability would one day help others find healing. That my story would become part of someone else’s survival. That the words<span style="font-style:italic;"> “Jesus loves you”</span> would carry weight in ways I once needed them to.<br><br> But God knew.<br><br> And if you’ve been there—tested, exhausted, feeling like you have nothing left—you are not alone. What feels impossible to us is never impossible for Him. Full healing requires us to release not only our pain—but our timeline.<br><br> I didn’t want the process I walked through. I didn’t want to revisit the pain. I didn’t want to pursue justice. I didn’t want the losses that came with it. It felt like everything was being taken. But it wasn’t loss. It was restoration—just not on my timeline. Trusting Jesus in my healing meant letting go of control and choosing, step by step:<br><br><span style="font-style:italic;">"Jesus, I trust in You."</span><br><br> Not just for relief. But for restoration. Not just to get through. But to become whole. There is a sacred kind of wrestling that happens here. The kind Jacob knew. The kind that doesn’t end in defeat—but in transformation. God is not intimidated by your trauma. He is not overwhelmed by your thoughts. He is not offended by your doubts. He does not rush you. He does not shame you. He does not turn away.<br><br> He stays.<br><br> And He invites you—gently, patiently—to trust Him with more. Not all at once. But little by little. And sometimes trust looks like nothing more than staying present for one more moment. Breathing one more prayer. Whispering through tears:<br><br><span style="font-style:italic;">“I don’t understand… but I’m still here.<br> Jesus, I trust in You."</span><br><br> Because the truth is—even when you cannot see Him working, He is. He is in the slow places. In the unseen shifts. In the healing that doesn’t announce itself, but quietly takes root. And over time, what once felt impossible begins to soften. What once felt permanent begins to loosen. What once felt broken begins to be restored.<br><br> Not because you forced it. But because you trusted Him with all of it. And maybe that is what full healing really looks like—Not a life without pain, but a life where you are no longer carrying it alone. A life where you can finally say—not just with your words, but with your whole being:<br><br><span style="font-style:italic;">"Jesus, I trust in You."</span></span><p><strong></strong></p></div>
<p></p><p></p></div><p></p></div></div><div data-element-id="elm_KSBymJBdp-bJtytFr4Wuxw" data-element-type="buttonicon" class="zpelement zpelem-buttonicon "><style></style><div class="zpbutton-container zpbutton-align-center zpbutton-align-mobile-center zpbutton-align-tablet-center "><style type="text/css"></style><a class="zpbutton-wrapper zpbutton zpbutton-type-primary zpbutton-size-md zpbutton-style-none zpbutton-icon-align-left " href="https://sistersoflife.org/litany-of-trust/"><span class="zpbutton-icon "><svg viewBox="0 0 24 24" height="24" width="24" aria-label="hidden" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><path d="M13 6C13 5.44772 12.5523 5 12 5C11.4477 5 11 5.44772 11 6V9H7C6.44772 9 6 9.44772 6 10C6 10.5523 6.44772 11 7 11H11V18C11 18.5523 11.4477 19 12 19C12.5523 19 13 18.5523 13 18V11H17C17.5523 11 18 10.5523 18 10C18 9.44772 17.5523 9 17 9H13V6Z"></path></svg></span><span class="zpbutton-content">Pray the Litany Today</span></a></div>
</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Wed, 18 Mar 2026 23:27:46 +0000</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[When Toxic Thoughts Take Root]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/when-toxic-thoughts-take-root</link><description><![CDATA[<img align="left" hspace="5" src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Armor of God.png"/>This guided meditation invites women to put on the Armor of God and confront the toxic thoughts that often follow trauma. Each piece of armor reminds us of the truth of who we are in Christ and helps us replace shame, fear, and doubt with faith, peace, and hope on our healing journey.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_K1EepykwTc-UW0N8IFAHtw" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_i42WkVvPTxKMbw__jR3SaQ" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_2ks9YMnTTgOaZT2CHFWvCg" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_vzSZAUCZTumTbFHoV-eSEQ" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><span>Letting God Transform the Lie</span></h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm__eeFxPim80ODOemtYqRs2A" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm__eeFxPim80ODOemtYqRs2A"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 1110px ; height: 740.00px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-fit zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Armor%20of%20God.png" size="fit" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_wwl43alsQhmnneVhZkRVFA" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-left zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p></p><div><p>There are moments in life when a thought settles into the mind and refuses to leave. It may begin quietly, perhaps after a painful conversation, a betrayal, a loss, or a memory that surfaces when you least expect it. A woman may find herself lying awake at night replaying something someone once said to her—<em>You’re not enough. You should have known better. You ruined everything.</em> Over time those thoughts can begin to feel like truth, even when they are not. They begin to shape how she sees herself, how she walks into a room, how she receives love, and even how she approaches God. What began as a moment of pain can slowly become a script that repeats in the background of everyday life.</p><p><br></p><p>Many women encounter these toxic thoughts in very ordinary moments. A mother may hear them when she feels she has failed her children. A woman rebuilding after divorce may hear them when she wonders whether she will ever be loved again. A survivor of abuse may hear them when shame tries to rewrite her story and convince her that what happened to her defines who she is. Even in workplaces or churches, women can carry the quiet weight of thoughts that whisper that they are invisible, unworthy, or somehow less than others around them. These thoughts can become exhausting companions, showing up in moments of vulnerability and feeding on fear, regret, and shame.</p><p><br></p><p>One of the most healing practices we have discovered is not trying to fight these thoughts alone, but learning to invite God into them. Instead of pushing the thought away or pretending it is not there, a woman can bring it into prayer and simply say, “Lord, this thought is here again. Will you sit with me in it?” There is something deeply disarming about allowing God to hold the thought with you. When the lie is no longer hidden or carried alone, it begins to lose some of its power. The presence of God changes the space around the thought. What once felt overwhelming begins to soften when it is held in His light.</p><p><br></p><p>This is where the meditation on the Armor of God becomes meaningful. The armor described in Ephesians is not simply a symbolic list of spiritual tools; it is a way of remembering truths that steady us when our minds are under siege. As a woman slowly reflects on each piece—the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit—she is gently replacing the lie with something stronger. Each piece represents a truth about who God is and who she is in Him. When those truths are embraced, the toxic thought begins to lose its authority. It no longer stands alone in her mind; it is now surrounded by truth.</p><p><br></p><p>Imagine a woman who carries the lingering belief that she is somehow broken beyond repair because of what she has endured. When she sits with God in that thought, she may begin to remember that righteousness was never something she had to earn—it was given to her. The breastplate of righteousness reminds her that her worth does not depend on perfection. Another woman may carry the belief that she will never find peace again after trauma or betrayal. The shoes of peace remind her that God does not ask her to stand in chaos forever; He prepares a path where peace becomes possible again, step by step. The shield of faith reminds her that even when she cannot yet see the outcome of her healing, God has already been faithful in ways she can remember.</p><p><br></p><p>Over time, something beautiful begins to happen. The lie that once felt immovable starts to loosen its grip. What once echoed loudly in the mind begins to fade as the truths of God become more familiar and steady. The sword of the Spirit—the Word of God—becomes the moment when a woman is able to gently speak truth back to the lie. Not with anger or force, but with quiet confidence. She begins to recognize that the thought that once controlled her does not belong to her story anymore.</p><p><br></p><p>Perhaps the most surprising part of this journey is what God does with the thought once it has been surrendered. God does not simply remove the pain and discard it. Instead, He transforms it. What once felt heavy and shameful can become a place of wisdom, compassion, and strength. A thought that once said <em>you are unworthy</em> may return as a new understanding that <em>you are deeply loved despite everything you have carried.</em> A memory that once felt like proof of failure may become a testimony of resilience and grace.</p><p><br></p><p>In the language of faith, this transformed understanding can become a <strong>rhema</strong>—a personal word from God that speaks directly to the heart. It is not just a general truth anymore; it is something that has been lived through, wrestled with, and redeemed. It becomes a message that a woman can hold onto the next time a toxic thought tries to return. Instead of being caught off guard, she can remember what God has already revealed to her.</p><p><br></p><p>In the meditation we practice, we imagine that this rhema—this personal truth—is placed on the belt of truth like a small reminder carried into the future. The belt of truth becomes a place where the lessons of healing are held close. Each time a lie returns, she can reach for what God has already spoken and remember that the lie has already been answered.</p><p><br></p><p>Healing from toxic thoughts rarely happens in a single moment. It is often a slow and patient process of allowing truth to take root where lies once lived. But when God is invited into the process, the battlefield of the mind begins to change. The thoughts that once controlled a woman’s story no longer get the final word. Instead, they become the very places where God reveals something precious—something good and pure that was hidden beneath the pain all along.</p><p><br></p><p>And the next time a toxic thought comes crashing into her life, she will not face it empty-handed. She will stand in truth, surrounded by grace, holding the quiet assurance that the same God who transformed that thought once before is still walking with her now.</p><p><br></p><p></p><div><p>Transforming toxic thoughts is something we help women learn to do during every phase of their healing journey with us.</p><p><br></p><p>We begin confronting these thoughts in <strong>Phase 1</strong>, where women are introduced to the truth that they are not defined by their trauma and that healing is possible. In <strong>Phase 2</strong>, we challenge the belief that God caused their suffering, helping women recognize that trauma is the result of human brokenness—not the will of a loving God. In <strong>Phase 3</strong>, women are invited to reconnect with emotions they may have been taught were too much, too inconvenient, or unacceptable. Instead of suppressing those feelings, we learn to acknowledge them honestly and bring them into safe spaces where they can be processed.</p><p><br></p><p>This work continues as we <strong>Sit With Our Trauma</strong>, the first stage of healing. During this time, women begin learning to name what happened and recognize how trauma has shaped their thoughts and beliefs. We then move into the second stage of healing, <strong>Processing Our Trauma</strong>, where deeper transformation begins to take place. Here we confront the shame that has shackled many of us for years and prevented us from recognizing our belovedness in Christ. We learn that anger is not a forbidden emotion meant to be suppressed, but an important signal that something unjust has occurred. When guided by wisdom and grounded in truth, anger can help us pursue justice, establish boundaries, and restore what has been wrongfully taken from us.</p><p><br></p><p>During this phase of healing we also learn to challenge the false beliefs trauma has planted in our minds—beliefs about our worth, our safety, and even about God Himself. We begin to grieve the full weight of what we have lost: not the minimized version of our story that others may have expected us to accept, but the honest and complete reality of our experience.</p><p><br></p><p>Finally, as we move into the last stage of healing, <strong>Moving Beyond Our Trauma</strong>, our relationship with these thoughts begins to change. By this point, many of the deeply ingrained beliefs have already been confronted and replaced with truth. What remain are the sudden, sharp thoughts that try to stop us in our tracks—the intrusive reminders that attempt to derail our pursuit of health, joy, and the life God intends us to live.</p><p><br></p><p>By <strong>Phase 17</strong>, women are learning to recognize these thoughts as they arise and take them captive in the moment. Rather than allowing them to dominate our minds or dictate our choices, we are able to pause, identify the lie, and respond with truth.</p><p>This meditation is one way to begin practicing that process.</p><p><br></p><p>As you put on the <strong>Armor of God</strong>, consider how each piece of the armor speaks directly to the lies and toxic thoughts you have battled throughout your healing journey. The <strong>Belt of Truth</strong> confronts deception. The <strong>Breastplate of Righteousness</strong> protects your identity and worth. The <strong>Shoes of Peace</strong> ground you in stability rather than fear. The <strong>Shield of Faith</strong> deflects accusations and doubts. The <strong>Helmet of Salvation</strong> guards your mind. And the <strong>Sword of the Spirit</strong>, the Word of God, equips you to challenge falsehood with truth.</p><p><br></p><p>Over time, you may begin to recognize which pieces of this armor you most need to remember you are wearing when those thoughts come crashing in.</p><p><br></p><p>Healing from trauma is not quick or effortless. It requires honesty, courage, and compassion toward ourselves. It requires speaking our stories—sometimes first to ourselves, and eventually to others who are safe enough to hear them. It involves tears, acknowledging the weight we have carried, and recognizing how deeply those experiences have affected us.</p><p><br></p><p>Most of all, healing requires <strong>time</strong>.</p><p>Time to cultivate safety.<br> Time to learn how our bodies and minds respond to trauma.<br> Time to slowly transform survival responses into healthy responses within safe relationships and environments.</p><p><br></p><p>And it also requires grace for ourselves in the moments when we are not safe. Trauma responses are not failures—they are evidence that our bodies learned how to survive.</p><p><br></p><p>You were not weak.<br> You were surviving.</p><p><br></p><p>If you do not yet have a safe community of women to walk with you through this healing journey, we invite you to join us. Whether by attending one of our groups or allowing us to help you start a group in your community, we would be honored to walk alongside you.</p><p><br></p><p>Because your story matters.<br> Your healing matters.<br> And you are worth the journey.</p></div>
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</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Wed, 11 Mar 2026 20:35:08 +0000</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[You Are More Than How You Present in the Moment]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/you-are-more-than-how-you-present-in-the-moment</link><description><![CDATA[<img align="left" hspace="5" src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/how I present in the moment.png"/>People often see only a moment of who we are. This reflection invites women recovering from trauma to recognize the deeper story beneath the surface—strength, pain, growth, and faith—while learning to bring compassion, honesty, and healthier expectations into their relationships.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_IDfki9noRBGszSQGtDeqLg" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_SqQ9E1tjSbKVQzLqLXsFzA" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_b5C39iRHTtif_4djULKC0g" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_qWkK3BJFR3-aYEnLd7SMZA" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true">A Phase 16 Reflection</h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm_pRJC5znvcJERznlYtgLzVQ" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_pRJC5znvcJERznlYtgLzVQ"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 500px ; height: 750.00px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-medium zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/how%20I%20present%20in%20the%20moment.png" size="medium" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_Hm_0LcAlSySWQyVauu3Dhw" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-center zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p style="text-align:justify;"><span>You are more than what people see, in this moment, in the moments of your past, and in the moments yet to come.&nbsp;<br><br></span><span>In our relationships, people rarely encounter the whole of who we are. Most often, they meet us in moments. A conversation at work, a quick exchange at home, a disagreement with a friend, a moment when we are calm and composed, or a moment when we are overwhelmed and struggling. From the outside, these moments can look like the whole story, but they are not. Much like an iceberg, what others see above the surface is only a small portion of what exists beneath it. Beneath the visible moment are the experiences, memories, fears, hopes, strengths, and wounds that have shaped the person standing in front of them. This reflection practice invites us to slow down and remember that we are always bringing far more into a moment than what others see, and just as importantly, we are often bringing far more into the moment than we remember ourselves.</span><br><span></span><span><br> This awareness begins by recognizing the positive qualities we consistently bring into our relationships. Many women who are recovering from trauma have spent years developing strengths that others depend on. You may be the person who remembers everyone’s birthdays, the coworker who helps keep projects organized, the friend who listens patiently when someone is in crisis, or the family member who quietly checks in when others are struggling. You may be the calm voice when others panic, the dependable one who always shows up, or the one who holds emotional weight for the people around you. These strengths are real and meaningful parts of who you are, and the reality is that you're holding an impossible burden. Even if you weren't recovering from trauma, everyday people who carry great strength are still human. We become tired. We miss deadlines. We forget things. We run out of emotional energy. Many women who are known for their resilience are quietly holding far more than others realize, and this can create a painful dynamic. When life becomes difficult, people often assume that the strongest person will be able to handle it. The belief that “she is strong, she can handle this” can lead others to step back at precisely the moment when support is most needed.<br><br> This often leaves women who have supported countless others standing alone when they are facing their own challenges. That is not to say that those surrounding them do not care. More often, people simply do not realize help is needed, and many trauma survivors have learned to survive by carrying their burdens silently. Unfortunately, admitting the need for support can feel uncomfortable or even impossible because they have built credibility out of being the dependable one, the capable one, the independent one, and they fear what others will think if they were to admit that in some moments they are the ones who need support, help, and compassion.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:justify;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:justify;"><span>Yet part of healing and moving beyond our trauma involves recognizing that asking for help is not a failure of strength. It is simply another form of courage. It is equally noble to be the person who asks for help as it is to be the person who offers it. And, it's equally dignified to be the person receiving assistance as the person giving it. Society has instilled in us that "charity" is a bad thing, a shameful thing, while the Bible tells us that "charity" is the highest form of love.</span></p><p style="text-align:justify;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:justify;"><span>When we begin acknowledging that we are carrying a great deal and that we cannot continue adding endlessly to our plates, we start creating healthier expectations within our relationships. We give others the opportunity to support us in ways they may not have realized were needed, and we understand why we're not living up to expectations - expectations that were unrealistic, implausible and inhumane.&nbsp;<br><br> Once we can recognize that our weakness are with us even when we act out of our strengths, our courageous, and our capabilities, we then have the mirrored understanding of how we respond during difficult emotional moments. Trauma survivors are often deeply familiar with times when they feel triggered, flooded with memories or emotions, or overwhelmed by circumstances that exceed their capacity in the moment. During these times we may react more strongly than we intended, say things we wish we had expressed differently, disappoint someone we care about, or feel as though we have completely lost our footing. These experiences can easily lead to shame, which often tells us that our worst moment reveals who we truly are.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:justify;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:justify;"><span>However, <span style="font-weight:bold;">trauma responses do not define our identity</span>. They are simply moments when our nervous system has been pushed beyond what it can manage comfortably. The same person who reacted strongly in a difficult moment is also the person who has handled many other situations with patience, compassion, and care. When we remember this broader truth, we begin to treat ourselves with grace, mercy, and compassion instead of judgment. This also allows others to extend that same grace to us. Learning to respond to ourselves with compassion is essential for staying out of shame and continuing to grow in resilience. When we can recognize that we are not our trauma responses, and that in the moment when we are acting out of character we're still bringing all of those moments when we have responded as our true selves, we can lay shame aside, and move forward in dignity.&nbsp;<br><br> One thing you'll hear us talk about a lot is how our trauma prevents us from feeling emotions. This reflection encourages us to track our emotional arcs. Trauma often leads people to shut down their emotional lives as a way to survive. While this may initially protect us from pain, it can also dull our ability to experience other emotions such as joy, excitement, serenity, or wonder. As healing progresses, emotions may begin returning in ways that feel unfamiliar. This practice helps remind us that the emotions we feel today exist within a much larger emotional story. When we feel excited about something new, we are also bringing with us the memory of times when we felt afraid or uncertain. When we experience calm or peace, we are the same person who once lived through chaos or confusion. When sadness surfaces, we are also the person who has known laughter, delight, and moments of deep connection. Recognizing this emotional range helps us reconnect with a fuller sense of ourselves and reminds us that it is safe to feel again. The person who once felt fear, joy, curiosity, grief, and hope unfettered and unfiltered before our traumatic experiences is still present within us today, and that person can help us regain the ability to feel fully again.<br><br> Another part of this reflection invites us to recognize that we carry all the stages and roles of our lives into each moment. We often define ourselves by who we are right now, but our identity is much richer than a single snapshot in time. The woman sitting at a desk feeling uninspired today may also be the bright-eyed child who once stared in fascination at the plasma ball during science class. The confident professional leading a meeting may still carry the memory of the nervous teenager who rehearsed what to say before raising her hand. The woman who runs marathons may remember the gangly adolescent who felt awkward running in front of other girls during physical education. A mother caring for her children today may also carry the memory of the frightened child who once hid from her own mother. Every stage of life contributes to the wisdom, empathy, and strength we carry forward. When we recognize this, we begin to see that each moment contains far more of our story than anyone else can perceive.<br><br> This reflection takes on special significance during Phase 16 of the Phasing Out of Trauma journey, where we begin focusing more intentionally on our relationships. During this phase, participants are invited to consider how they present themselves to individual people in their lives. One person may experience them as dependable and strong. Another may perceive them as guarded or distant. Someone else may see them as endlessly accommodating. Each perception reflects only a portion of the story. The practice encourages women to recognize that they bring far more into each relationship than what any single person can see. It also invites them to consider the equal and opposite truths that may exist within their experiences. Someone who appears strong may also carry deep vulnerability. Someone who seems independent may still long for support and connection. Someone who appears quiet may hold a rich inner life filled with thoughts, hopes, and ideas. Recognizing these truths allows women to make healthier decisions about how they wish to move forward within their relationships. In some situations they may discover that the strengths they have built in other areas of their lives can guide them here as well. In other situations they may recognize that certain dynamics are simply too complicated or overwhelming to address immediately. Healing does not demand rushing. It requires honesty and patience.<br><br> The reflection concludes by acknowledging that healing is a journey rather than a destination. It is not about becoming perfect or eliminating every difficult moment. Instead, it is about learning to see ourselves more truthfully and more compassionately. As we do this work, we recognize both the strengths we carry and the places that still need care. We learn to offer compassion to the parts of ourselves that are still growing. Throughout this process we are reminded that God remains present in every part of our story. He is present in moments of strength and in moments of struggle, in times when we feel confident and in times when we feel uncertain. The reflection practice invites each participant to create a personal statement that reminds them of these truths. It becomes a way to return to the deeper story of who they are as they continue moving forward in their healing journey.</span></p><p style="text-align:justify;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:justify;"><span>If you're ready to acknowledge the fullness of who you are, and to remember and bring forward the parts of you that your trauma has tried to take away, we invite you to <a href="https://youtu.be/0ioEeWEAMrc" title="work through this reflection with us on YouTube" rel="">work through this reflection with us on YouTube</a>. If you're not there yet, because you're still trying to hold space for your trauma story, we invite you to join us in a <a href="/groups" title="General Meeting in person or online by visiting here" rel="">General Meeting in person or online by visiting here</a>.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p></div>
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</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Fri, 06 Mar 2026 20:00:12 +0000</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[What Goes into Creating a Phasing Out of Trauma Workbook?]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/what-goes-into-creating-a-phasing-out-of-trauma-workbook</link><description><![CDATA[<img align="left" hspace="5" src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Refelctive Workbook Process.png"/>We create each Reflective Workbook through a layered process: identifying the healing theme, integrating trauma-informed body practices, developing guided prayers, and structuring weekly soul work calendars —ensuring spiritual depth, nervous system safety, and practical application move together.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_DmllClc9SFKutRLppWdbeA" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_VrYUy5dySQSA4Ykm6P7Zcw" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_pKAVn8xJQQ604EsDlEXb6A" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_Jx7JkabsQiiBcJtXhhCXvQ" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true">Prayer, Planning, and Preparedness</h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm_dGiMdcHxGSHtGcuE3Sdt9g" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_dGiMdcHxGSHtGcuE3Sdt9g"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 500px ; height: 333.33px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-medium zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
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                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Refelctive%20Workbook%20Process.png" size="medium" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_4qTP6rilQBKyvUl78GH-iw" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-center zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p style="text-align:left;"><span>When someone opens one of our reflective workbooks, they see a booklet of pages separated by tabs that are full of words to help them process their traumatic experiences.&nbsp;<br><br> But what they are actually holding is prayer, research, lived experience, theological discernment, nervous system science, and months (sometimes years) of refinement.<br><br> Creating a Phasing Out of Trauma Reflective Workbook is not simply about writing content. It is about building scaffolding for healing that is holistic, and addresses emotional, spiritual, relational, and neurological challenges one week at a time.<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;font-size:20px;">Here’s what really goes into it.</span><br><br> We Start With the Nervous System. and before we write a single prayer, question or reflection we ask questions to properly discern what is needed within this Phase. These questions include:</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>What happens in the body when trauma is activated?<br> Where are women likely to dissociate?<br> Where might shame surface?<br> What could feel overwhelming too soon?<br><br> Every section of our Reflective Workbook is made to regulate before it moves forward. That’s why we suggest women take the time during the early weeks of their Phase Study Groups to use grounding tools like breath work, relaxing imagery, and somatic awareness to help ground and center themselves reminding them they're safe. For example, in our activities section you’ll find practices like:</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Box Breathing, where they learn how to Box Breath while focusing on God being there for them.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Returning to the Refuge, where they take a mental break and imagine a safe, supportive and calming environmental space where God is approachable, and they can reset.</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Body Scan with Breath Release, where they can safely notice what is going on in their bodies without expectations, asking God to help them find greater relaxation and release.&nbsp;<br><br> We are mindful about these, because safety must come before activation. We believe that we must model taking the time to ground and center, so you'll see us incorporate these and other techniques into each of our meetings as well.<br><br> We never rush disclosure. We build capacity first.<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;font-size:20px;">We Build in Weekly Structure (So No One Gets Lost)</span><br><br> Trauma recovery can feel chaotic. Everyone is starting at a different place, with different tolerances for different things. We recognize that, and we don't ask women to follow a one size fits all approach. So we've built empowerment within our weekly structures, so each woman has some choice in what she spends her time on, yet there are communal experiences they can all unpack together within the Phase Study Group Setting.</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Each Reflective Workbook is meant to be completed within 2-3 months, and each week women are asked to read the assigned chapters within the Phase Work Book that the group is reading through together. This is the communal experience. Each chapter has a coresponding reflection page, that offers the women a chance to incorporate what the author has shared into their own lives, experiences, impressions and memories.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>We've then poured over YouTube to find videos that are accessible, from experts, and people who are talking about our trauma topics in order to pair each chapter with an appropriate video that helps to ground our women in both the psychological and spiritual aspects of the Phase they are working on. After they watch the videos, they're given a reflection page to complete again, to bring the message into their personal lives.<br><br> These are the 2 unifying aspects of our Phase Study Groups. Aside from these, we offer Trauma Informed Activities, and Spiritual Practices, and Soul Practices that they're encouraged to complete when they're ready, and as it makes sense for their experiences.&nbsp; None of these additional things are mandatory - and each can be entered into at each individual woman's own time.&nbsp; Many of these are things they will re-visit at different Phases, so there is no rush, no hurry and no pressure.</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>This is how we keep everyone together while honoring their own unique pace, and the safety they've cultivated with their bodies, prayer, God, their stories, encouraging them that as they continue with this process that safety will expand and what they couldn't do during one Phase is accomplishable in another.&nbsp;<br><br> Healing is not random — it is paced. This helps participants move from: “I’m overwhelmed” to “I know what to do this week.” This predictability restores stability. And choice restores agency and empowerment - things that were often taken away and abused by people in leadership roles over them in the past.<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;font-size:20px;">We Pair Reflection With Regulation</span><br><br> Right from the beginning, the first Activity they encounter in our Phase 1 Reflective Workbook is Making This Your Time, and they're given several ways to ground, center, return to the hear and now, pause, and stop the work so that they control the flow, and stay in control of how they encounter their trauma along the way. We continue this process of pairing reflection with regulation, while building the tolerance to access deeper places within themselves as they move through the necessary psychological and spiritual scaffolding of the Phases.&nbsp;<br><br> For example:<br><br> If we invite them to explore where grief shows up in their story, we provide grounding practices so they can remain present.<br> If we ask them to explore shame topics, we include compassionate embodiment activities to restore peaceful processing.</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>When we come to the place where they're ready to unpack abuse, they are given protective prayer, somatic experiencing, and presence exercises.<br><br> We never leave someone in emotional exposure without offering containment. And we model this within each Phase Study Meeting, after we share we always ground and regulate before moving our meetings forward.<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;font-size:20px;">We Integrate Scripture Carefully — Not Aggressively</span><br><br> Too many women have had faith, and the Bible used against them to hold them in abusive and harmful relationships and family structures. Here within our Reflective Workbooks, scripture is never used to silence pain, it's always used as a way to show women that God doesn't avoid difficult conversations, experiences, and memories.<br><br> They are used to acknowledge our heritage, and to show how God walks alongside those who are suffering, and how He provides for them.<br><br> For example, when we introduce Psalm 40:2 (“He lifted me out of the pit…”), we present multiple translations and invite slow reflection rather than doctrinal correction. Our Phases are not courses in what the Bible teaches - they are more journeys through our shared trauma stories, and through the shared redemptive messages, promises, and covenants God has left for us.&nbsp;<br><br><strong><span style="font-size:20px;">We Beta Test Everything and We Join You in Your Study</span></strong><br><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Before any of our workbook gets in the hands of one of our members, we have worked through it ourselves to see how it feels - to test "is it accessible." If there is anything that feels off, sits with us wrong, or turns us off, it's re-worked. It doesn't stay part of our program. That means after all that collaboration, cultivation, curation of questions, prayers, scriptures, videos, activities, and practices, we're willing to start from scratch if it doesn't sit right with us. That's right - we'd rather start over than offer a woman something that does not serve her.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>When that happens, we take the time to fine tune, or re-work whatever came up lacking, and we test the new version, updated edition.</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Once we're happy that it provides what we're looking for, then we offer groups where we process and work through the materials again, right alongside the women who are reading it for the first time. We don't used canned responses from years ago, we give current, up-to-date answers that are real, raw and vulnerable to foster trust, respect, and to ensure integrity of our process.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br> Healing does not happen in isolation, so even though we've already worked through the materials before going through them again within a Phase Study Group, we get so much more out of the process when we complete it alongside our group!<br><br><strong><span style="font-size:20px;">Above All — We Pray</span></strong><br><br> Before printing.<br> Before handing it to a woman in crisis.<br><br> We pray.<br><br> Because these are not just worksheets.<br><br> They are invitations:<br><br> To re-enter the body.<br><br> To untangle distorted images of God.<br><br> To mourn what was lost.<br><br> To reclaim what was stolen.<br><br> To walk toward wholeness.<br><br> Each page carries the quiet hope that when a woman whispers,<br> “God, please see me,”<br> she will begin to experience that He already does.<br><br> When you open one of our reflective workbooks, you are not opening content.&nbsp; You are stepping into a carefully built healing container — one designed to move at the pace of your nervous system, honor your story, and restore your dignity. And we consider it sacred work.</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p></div>
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</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Sun, 01 Mar 2026 01:57:57 +0000</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Boundaries — The Architecture of Love, Safety, and Spiritual Freedom]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/boundaries-—-the-architecture-of-love-safety-and-spiritual-freedom</link><description><![CDATA[<img align="left" hspace="5" src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Phase 16 Boundaries.png"/>Phase 16 explores how healthy boundaries restore safety, attachment, and spiritual clarity after trauma. Boundaries are not walls — they are stewardship. When we honor our limits, we protect our nervous systems, strengthen relationships, and create space for love to thrive without self-erasure.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_GFF0QsSjR16JycusL6A0cQ" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_ZxnW47iCQFOgiTvXmNirrw" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_-GtaiPLwTFGetLESMKIF4w" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_YIwo3WrMRraqJGcIAhe45g" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><span>Phase 16: Relationships After Trauma</span></h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm_Uq7x1tNhkVDqt-sfFw1Yxw" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_Uq7x1tNhkVDqt-sfFw1Yxw"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 500px ; height: 500.00px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-medium zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
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</div><div data-element-id="elm_H2Ye_dlcR5SZwowkOU5hfg" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-center zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p style="text-align:left;"><span>When we begin talking about boundaries, most people do not feel empowered — they feel uneasy. For some, the word carries the weight of conflict. For others, it feels selfish, unkind, or even unspiritual. Many trauma survivors were never taught healthy limits; instead, they experienced either rigid control or total emotional chaos. So when we arrive at Phase 16 and begin exploring relationships after trauma, boundaries can feel foreign — or frightening.<br><br> And yet, <span style="font-style:italic;">boundaries are not walls</span>.<br><br><strong>They are doorways with hinges</strong>.<br><br> Trauma psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk teaches that trauma reshapes the nervous system. It changes how we experience safety, connection, and agency. Trauma is not simply an event that happened; it is an imprint on the body. When safety was repeatedly violated — emotionally, physically, or relationally — the body learned to adapt in order to survive. Some adapted by becoming hyper-attuned to others’ needs, scanning constantly for approval. Others adapted by disconnecting from their own emotions altogether. Some learned that “no” led to punishment. Others learned that having needs meant being too much.<br><br> Over time, survival patterns that once served to keep us safe with an individual, or in certain situations become hard wired into universal relational styles we use with everyone in every situation, and we rationalize it rather than pathologize it - because it's all we've known. People-pleasing begins to look like kindness. Over-giving masquerades as love. Silence becomes self-control. Avoidance becomes independence. But beneath these patterns is often a nervous system that never felt safe enough to differentiate where one person ends and another begins.<br><br> Boundaries restore that differentiation where we're able to recognize that we're not being kind to ourselves when we're going out of our way to make our boss's life easier at the detriment to our family. Where we can see that constantly buying our kids the newest toys, games, electronic does not fill their love tank and make up for our inability to spend time with them. We can recognize that stonewalling our beloveds isn't about giving us time to make up our minds, it's about controlling our calendar. They help us recognize that we are not called to be independent - we are called to agency and empowerment within interdependence on supportive people.&nbsp;<br><br> Boundaries help us answer a fundamental question trauma disrupts: What belongs to me, and what does not?<br><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>When we've grown up with Adverse Childhood Experiences, and when we've experienced trauma in pivotal years or our adulthood, and when we've had dysfunction in our families, it's easy to understand.&nbsp; Most of us can relate to someone in our families or at school or at work that doesn't seem to "pull their weight" and most of us can recognize the person who always "bails them out". We can also recognize the people in our lives who are "loners" and who don't work well in groups because they don't know how to ask for help, and those who just ride their coat tails and take credit they don't deserve.&nbsp; &nbsp;Why are these things so common in our experiences?</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br> Attachment theory deepens this understanding. Clinical psychologist Sue Johnson reminds us that human beings are wired for connection. We are not meant to be emotionally self-contained. We long for closeness, responsiveness, and reassurance, and as babies we do our best to achieve healthy attachment with the caregivers we have. But when attachment has been insecure or chaotic, boundaries feel risky, this could be something we experience very early in life, or it could be something that develops later in fundamental years as dysfunction grows or develops in our lives.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>This means, if someone grew up anxiously attached where they never knew if their needs would be met, and they had to perform to be affirmed and accepted, setting a boundary may feel like threatening the relationship itself. The internal message might sound like: If I say no, they will leave. If I disappoint them, I will lose them. If I create distance, I will be abandoned. This is not irrational thought - this thought comes from deeply stored, powerful memories of how people left, carried disappointment, and abandonment because they didn't live up to impossible or constantly changing standards of their caregivers or within their primary relationships.<br><br> Conversely, someone with avoidant attachment, who rather than getting needs met by caregivers was abused, or suffered further harm when they were near, may feel engulfed by closeness. For them, boundaries may not be missing — they may be rigid and defensive. The internal narrative becomes: If I let you in, I will lose myself. If I depend on you, I will be hurt. Again, this makes sense, as their definition of "love" is distorted by the unhealthy behaviors of caregivers and primary relationships from their past.<br><br> Healthy boundaries actually helps us heal our attachment styles, because they do not sever attachment. <span style="font-weight:bold;">They make secure attachment possible</span>.<br><br> When expectations are clear - meaning I know what you want from me, and I can clearly let you know what I need from you, when emotional responsibility is not blurred - meaning I am not condemned for how I feel, and I am free to feel it full, and when each person is accountable for their own behavior - meaning you're not "making me do anything" I'm choosing to do this because I respect my dignity or because I'm taking my mental and spiritual health serious, relationships become more stable.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Clarity reduces anxiety, we don't need to wonder and stay in panic, because of misunderstandings. Predictability reduces threat, we don't need to say "If you do this again...." and then be love bombed into taking it back. Mutuality increases trust, both parties agree to the boundary, and as the boundary is upheld, true trust forms.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Boundaries are not anti-connection; they are the conditions under which connection becomes safe. We set boundaries in order to open the door to vulnerability - boundaries tell the other person about our needs, and ask them to respect them, when we see people respect our needs, we're more likely to ask them to help meet them, and to support us in getting additional needs met down the line.&nbsp;<br><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><strong><span style="font-size:20px;">Boundaries and the Body</span></strong><br> Attachment styles are a neurological process, and we can see how insecure attachment styles can lead to poor boundaries based on emotional and cognitive feedback.&nbsp; It's fairly easy to see that poor boundaries negatively affect our mental and emotional states, but it goes beyond that. Neuroscientist Stephen Porges, through his work on Polyvagal Theory, explains that safety is not primarily cognitive — it is physiological. The nervous system is constantly scanning for cues of danger or safety. When boundaries are unclear, the body often remains in a low-grade state of alert. We brace for intrusion - yes, our bodies literally harden. We anticipate conflict - yes, we activate stress responses before the conflict ever occurs. We over-explain and apologize for existing - yes we physically diminish ourselves . Or we shut down to avoid overwhelm - yes we turn off biological systems, and stop healthy physical functioning.<br><br> A boundary sends a signal to the nervous system: <span style="font-weight:bold;">There is structure here. There is clarity. There is agency.</span><br><br> And agency calms the body, allows it to soften and release, allows it to rest an digest, allows it to return to proper hormonal function, metabolic function, and immune-function.<br><br> Without boundaries, relationships tend to swing between enmeshment - where we take on the emotional, phsyical and mental responsibilities of the other person, and we let them take on ours,&nbsp; and isolation where we refuse to let someone in because we've already decided they're not trust worthy, and we're just using them for personal gain, as a means to an end. With boundaries, relationships develop rhythm. There is room for closeness when desired and needed and space when warranted and agreed upon. There is room for honesty, vulnerability and discovery and respect for differences without condemnation. There is room for repair when rupture occurs, and recognition that ruptures are healthy as disagreements should happen in a natural flow of every relationship. This rhythm is what allows intimacy to deepen rather than collapse.<br><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><span style="font-weight:bold;font-size:20px;">Are Boundaries Spiritually Pleasing to God?</span></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Many fundamentalist Christian churches will tell you that to set a boundary is non-Christian. That we are called to die to self, and to take up the crosses the world gives us.&nbsp; However, we are told to love others as we love ourselves, and that God calls us to live a life of abundance, while we carry our own loads and bear the burdens of those around us.&nbsp; Let's look at how boundaries truly coincide with our Christian faith.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br> From a spiritual perspective, boundaries are not a modern therapeutic invention. They are embedded in creation. In Genesis, God separates light from darkness, land from sea, day from night. Separation is not rejection; it is order. It is differentiation that allows life to flourish. Even Christ modeled relational boundaries. He withdrew to pray. He did not heal every person in every town. He allowed others to misunderstand Him. He did not abandon His calling to satisfy every demand placed upon Him.<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;">Spiritual maturity is not self-erasure.</span><br><br> It is stewardship.<br><br></span></p><div style="text-align:left;"><span>Boundaries protect the life entrusted to us — our time, our energy, our bodies, our calling. They are not acts of hostility; they are acts of reverence. They acknowledge something deeply theological: we are finite. Love cannot flourish where there is chronic depletion, and ministry cannot thrive where there is quiet resentment. Healthy limits honor the dignity woven into us at creation. We are made in the image and likeness of God, but we are not God. We reflect Him; we do not replace Him.</span><br><span></span><br><span>We are invited to become more Christ-like, but <span style="font-weight:bold;">we are not called to become Christ Himself.</span></span><br><span><br></span></div>
<div style="text-align:left;"><span>That distinction matters.</span><span>&nbsp;In many Christian spaces, we hear language like “less of me and more of Him.” While the sentiment aims toward humility, it can quietly distort into self-neglect. God does not desire the erasure of your personality, your wiring, your limitations, or your humanity. He created you intentionally. Christ is Redeemer, Savior, and Lord. You are not.</span><br><span></span><br><span>Part of spiritual growth is relinquishing the subtle temptation to become the redeemer, savior, or lord of the people around us. When we over-function, over-commit, and overextend in the name of service, we can unintentionally step into roles that were never ours to carry. We begin to believe that everything depends on us — that if we do not hold it together, no one will. That posture may look sacrificial, but it is often rooted in anxiety rather than trust.</span><br><span></span><br><span>Our lives are meant to point to Christ — not because we are striving to mimic Him perfectly, but because His work in us becomes visible. When people see transformation, peace, humility, and regulated strength in our lives, they grow curious about the source. But if what they see instead is exhaustion, irritability, martyrdom, and chronic over extension, the life we model does not look like good news.</span><br><span></span><br><span>Boundaries free us from playing God.</span><br><span></span><br><span>They allow us to say yes when we have capacity and no when we do not. They invite us to ask for help. They permit us to rest. They protect our nervous systems so that our love does not turn sharp and brittle. They keep our service aligned with calling rather than compulsion.</span><br><span></span><br><span>Perhaps the most Christ-like thing we can do is trust that we are not Christ.</span><span>&nbsp;When we live honestly — acknowledging our limits, honoring our bodies, refusing to over commit — our lives begin to look sustainable. They look peaceful. They look real. And that kind of life, grounded and wholehearted, becomes deeply compelling.</span><br><span></span><br><span>Not because we disappeared.</span><span>&nbsp;But because we finally showed up as who God actually created us to be.</span></div>
<p style="text-align:left;"><span></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><span style="font-weight:bold;font-size:20px;">What Exactly are Boundaries?</span><br><br> It is important to clarify what boundaries are — and what they are not. A boundary is not an attempt to control someone else’s behavior. It is not a silent punishment or a withdrawal meant to induce guilt. A boundary does not say, “You must change.” It says, “This is what I will do if this continues.” It centers responsibility where it belongs — with the self.<br><br> For example, instead of saying, “You need to stop yelling,” a boundary might sound like, “If the yelling continues, I will leave the room.” Instead of demanding emotional availability, it may sound like, “I need time to think before responding.” Boundaries focus on one’s own participation.<br><br> For trauma survivors, this shift can feel destabilizing. Setting a boundary may activate guilt, shame, or fear of abandonment. The body may react as though danger is imminent. This does not mean the boundary is wrong. It means the nervous system is recalibrating. It is learning that disagreement does not equal catastrophe. It is learning that love can survive clarity.<br><br> This recalibration takes practice. In Phase 16, we encourage starting small. Notice where resentment is building — resentment is often a signal that a boundary is needed. Notice where your body tightens before saying yes. Notice where you feel obligated rather than willing. Practice low-risk acts of honesty. Build tolerance for the discomfort that comes with change.<br><br> Healing is not becoming harder.<br><br> It is becoming clearer.<br><br> There is a paradox at the heart of boundary work: healthy limits increase intimacy. When boundaries are absent, hidden anger accumulates. Unspoken expectations fester. People begin keeping score. Over time, connection erodes under the weight of confusion and resentment. But when boundaries are present, relationships gain durability. There is room for difference. There is room for negotiation. There is room for repair.<br><br> Boundaries create the architecture within which love can rest.<br><br> Phase 16 invites us to examine our relationships not through the lens of obligation, but through the lens of safety and mutuality. It asks us to consider whether we are participating from fear or from freedom. It challenges us to recognize that saying no does not diminish our worth — it affirms it.<br><br> You are allowed to take up space.<br> You are allowed to protect your nervous system.<br> You are allowed to steward your life.<br><br> Healing does not mean becoming infinitely accommodating. It means becoming rooted enough to stand without collapsing and open enough to love without disappearing.<br><br> And rooted people love well.</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p></div>
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</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Tue, 24 Feb 2026 19:52:51 +0000</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[When You Feel Like You’re Floating Away]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/when-you-feel-like-you-re-floating-away</link><description><![CDATA[<img align="left" hspace="5" src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/EFT Meditation Cedarwood - Spikenard.png"/>When dissociation feels like floating, numbing, or disconnecting, your nervous system is protecting you. This EFT meditation uses HT7, PC6, GV20, Spikenard, and Cedarwood to gently ground, regulate, and restore presence—inviting you back into your body with safety and faith.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_7RLpbB6pQDSEcNn_LI7gWg" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_2xKwVN1FTsOGFctlW06Ghw" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_559hZfFcRhOuoZWejR5PqA" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_gt4Jv6IAQK6MT7UiX6x2Rg" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true">An EFT Meditation for Dissociation</h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm_q2zyIMqUbJos-w33jJ0roA" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_q2zyIMqUbJos-w33jJ0roA"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 500px ; height: 500.00px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-medium zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/EFT%20Meditation%20Cedarwood%20-%20Spikenard.png" size="medium" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_vldp_D9ZQ7WWSkq3u5bKaw" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-center zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p style="text-align:left;"><span>Sometimes dissociation is dramatic.<br><br> But most of the time, it’s quiet. It looks like staring at a wall and not remembering what you were thinking. It feels like someone just spoke to you and you can’t quite track their words. It sounds like, “I’m fine,” when inside you feel far away.<br><br> Dissociation is not weakness. It is not failure. It is not spiritual deficiency.<br><br><strong>It is protection.</strong><br><br> Your nervous system learned that when something was too much, too fast, or too overwhelming, the safest thing to do was to step back — or step out. To float. To numb. To disconnect. And while that response may have once kept you safe, there may come a time when you no longer want to live at a distance from your own life.<br><br> That is where gentle re-connection begins.&nbsp;</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><strong><span style="font-size:20px;">Why We Use EFT for Dissociation</span></strong><br><br> Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) combines light tapping on acupressure points with focused awareness and breath. It helps regulate the nervous system and create integration between mind and body. When someone dissociates, energy often shifts upward — into the head — while the body feels distant or muted. Tapping in these moments, and after these moments provides our nervous system with the following:<br><br> • Rhythmic sensory input<br> • Bilateral stimulation<br> • Body-based anchoring<br> • Present-moment awareness<br><br> It communicates to the nervous system, “I am here. I am safe. I can stay.”<br><br><strong><span style="font-size:20px;">The Additional Points We Included — And Why</span></strong><br><br> In this meditation, we intentionally expanded beyond standard EFT points to include three specific acupressure points that support grounding and reintegration.<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;"><strong>HT7 — Heart 7 (Spirit Gate)</strong></span><br><br> This acupressure point is called the Spirit Gate, and is located at the wrist crease. This point is traditionally used to calm anxiety, emotional agitation, and restlessness. Dissociation can sometimes be an escape from emotional overwhelm and HT7 helps us bring regulation into our emotional center so our bodies do not feel the need to “leave” in order to cope.<br><br> This point supports steadiness of heart and spirit, and allows us to be more aware of what our heart and spirit want to communicate to us.<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;">PC6 — Pericardium 6 (Inner Gate)</span><br><br> The Inner Gate point is located on the inner forearm close to the wrist. PC6 is deeply connected to panic regulation, nausea, chest constriction, and heart-mind alignment, tapping here tells our bodies we recognize we're in a state of panic, and that we are using our agency to bring back regulation so that our mind can accept what our heart is feeling.&nbsp;<br><br> Whether our dissociation is triggered by full blown panic and anxiety or a quieter plea that things should have been different, PC6 helps calm the physiological cascade from those ruminating thoughts.<br><br> It reconnects breath to body.<br> Heart to mind.<br> Presence to safety.<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;">GV20 — Governing Vessel 20 (Hundred Meetings)<br></span><br> Hundred Meetings is acutally a point that is often used in EFT meditations even though the training I've had in EFT does not include it as one of the standard points. It is located at the crown of the head, and helps us clear mental fog to bring stability when our awareness has become <span> scattered</span>. While some people worry that tapping the crown may increase dissociation, because we are using this point within this meditation and use several other points, it helps us recognize the feedback and messages from the entire body and supports integration — especially when paired with grounding breaths we use at the beginning and ending of the meditation.<br><br> The place of a Hundred Meetings helps bring clarity without overwhelm.<br><br><strong><span style="font-size:20px;">Why We Chose Spikenard and Cedarwood</span></strong><br><br> Essential oils are never magic — but scent is powerful.<br><br> Smell connects directly to the limbic system, where memory and emotion are stored. Used gently and safely, oils can support nervous system regulation, and adding additional sensory input in our spiritual practices help infuse this positivie memory into our minds more fully so they begin to be the memories that take up space, and are referred to rather than the traum memories of our past.&nbsp;<br><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><span style="font-weight:bold;">Spikenard (Nardostachys jatamansi)</span><br><br> Spikenard is distilled from the root of a Himalayan flowering plant. It has a deep, earthy, grounding aroma. Emotionally, Spikenard supports us and helps us settle when our shock responses have fired; regain a sense of calm when we've need to be hyper-aroused; it encouraging stillness rather than flight or fight; and it helps us soften to reground when there's been spiritual fragmentation.<br><br> The scent profile of Spikenard draws our awareness downward — back into the body. It is&nbsp; known historically to be associated with devotion and restoration, it carries a quiet invitation of “Return.”<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;">Cedarwood (Cedrus atlantica)</span><br><br> Cedarwood is stabilizing and strengthening. Emotionally and physically it supports and helps us with nervous system regulation; regain the ability to anchor scattered energy; provide us the agency to reduce anxious rumination; and helps us to create a sense of internal containment.<br><br> If dissociation feels like drifting, Cedarwood feels like roots.<br><br> Together, Spikenard softens and Cedarwood grounds.<br><br><span style="font-weight:bold;font-size:20px;">Safety Matters</span><br><br> This practice is slow and invitational.<br><br> You are always in control.<br><br> Please remember:<br><br> • Perform a patch test before first time topical use, don't use essential oils on the skin if you have sensitive skin, it's perfectly fine to apply them to a post-it or cotton ball.<br> • If you experience severe dissociation, loss of time, or trauma-related flashbacks, share this information with a licensed therapist, and use this as a complementary practice, not as a replacement for therapeutic advice.<br> • If you become overwhelmed at any time during the meditation, stop tapping, open your eyes, name five things you see, and place both feet firmly on the floor.<br><br> This meditation supports healing but is not a substitute for professional mental health care.<br><br> If you are in crisis, contact local emergency services or 988 (U.S.).<br><br> You Are Not Broken<br><br> Dissociation once protected you.<br><br> Your body did what it needed to do.<br><br> Now, gently — with safety, pacing, and compassion — you can learn to stay.<br><br> Stay in your breath.<br> Stay in your body.<br> Stay in your story.<br><br> And perhaps most importantly —<br> Stay connected to the God who sees you even when you feel far away.<br><br> “<span>With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.</span>” — Zephaniah 3:17b</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span><br></span></p><p style="text-align:left;"><span>To follow along with this meditation, <a href="https://youtu.be/h0kxIzkamRA" title="watch the YouTube video here." rel="">watch the YouTube video here.</a><br><br> You are not broken.<br> You are learning to return.<br><br> If this meditation supports you, we invite you to explore more trauma-informed resources inside Phasing Out of Trauma as we continue integrating faith, nervous system education, and embodied healing — Phase by Phase.</span></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p><p style="text-align:left;"></p></div>
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</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Mon, 23 Feb 2026 22:56:49 +0000</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Introducing Phase 16]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/introducing-phase-16</link><description><![CDATA[Phase 16 explores how healing reshapes our relationships. As trauma loosens its grip, we learn to love without abandoning ourselves, set healthy boundaries, release unsafe dynamics, and embrace connection rooted in mutuality, safety, and growth rather than survival.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_crgDXWZXQzyAK8CJ8XoKKg" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_-i3X1plhQ8SctCDAsCHwTA" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_em0UF0DeSZ2x7MsPS3WKhQ" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_jnK8trnnQE6vc2UwDaLxpg" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true">Relationships After Trauma</h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm_cwk7Bu57MD9NDleu9dc7lw" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_cwk7Bu57MD9NDleu9dc7lw"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 500px ; height: 333.33px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-medium zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
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                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/images/Phase%2016%20Blog%20image.png" size="medium" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_aM7YsyQ-TMOm1ksz6C-XOA" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-center zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p style="text-align:left;"></p><div><div style="text-align:left;"><div><div><div><div><div><div><br><p>Healing does not end when the flashbacks quiet or when the nightmares soften. It does not even end when forgiveness begins. Healing continues into our relationships. Phase 16 is where trauma recovery meets real life. It is where the internal work begins to show up in conversations, boundaries, friendships, dating, marriage, parenting, church, and community. It is often here that women realize some relationships will grow, some will shift, and some will end — and all of it requires courage.</p><p><br></p><p>Trauma does not only wound our bodies and memories; it shapes how we attach, trust, withdraw, pursue, over-function, or disappear. Many of us learned to over-give to stay safe, stay silent to avoid conflict, rescue others to feel valuable, accept crumbs because we feared abandonment, or become fiercely independent because dependence once hurt. When survival becomes our relational strategy, it can be difficult to tell the difference between love and fear. Phase 16 gently invites the question: Am I loving from wholeness, or from survival? That question alone has the power to shift an entire relational landscape.</p><p><br></p><p>One of the greatest myths trauma survivors carry is the belief that setting boundaries is mean, selfish, un-Christian, or unloving. But boundaries are not punishment, and they are not walls. They are clarity. They are the difference between supporting and rescuing, forgiving and tolerating harm, being available and being consumed. Even Jesus walked away from crowds. He did not answer every demand. He did not entrust Himself to everyone. Boundaries are not a lack of love; they are love with wisdom.</p><p><br></p><p>As healing deepens, relationships often reveal themselves more clearly. You may discover a friendship that strengthens as you become more honest, a partner who respects your growth, or a community that truly supports healing. You may also discover that someone preferred the unhealed version of you, that a dynamic only worked when you stayed small, or that a relationship was built on imbalance rather than mutuality. Growth exposes truth, and truth can feel both freeing and heartbreaking. It is okay to grieve relationships that cannot grow with you. It is okay to release dynamics that cost you your peace. It is okay to choose safety.</p><p><br></p><p>One of the most difficult lessons in this Phase is recognizing that you are not responsible for someone else’s healing. You are responsible for your honesty, your growth, your boundaries, and your repentance when needed. You are not responsible for forcing someone else to change, managing their emotions, convincing them of your worth, or carrying what they refuse to heal. Mature love is not enabling, controlling, or fixing. Mature love stays open and kind, but it does not abandon itself in the process.</p><p><br></p><p>As trauma loosens its grip, healthy relationships begin to feel different. There is mutuality instead of imbalance, repair after conflict instead of silent resentment, emotional safety instead of hypervigilance, space for individuality instead of enmeshment, and freedom to say no without fear. You may find yourself laughing more easily, relaxing in rooms you once scanned for danger, sharing without rehearsing, and resting without bracing. These shifts are not accidental. They are the fruit of the work you have done.</p><p><br></p><p>Phase 16 is not only about what you leave behind; it is about what you step into. It is about friendships that nourish, community that celebrates growth, and moments — perhaps sitting at the beach with trusted friends — where you are no longer scanning for threat but simply enjoying connection. It is about rediscovering ease, belonging, joy, and choice. It is about realizing that you are no longer surviving relationships; you are participating in them.</p><p>This phase is quiet but powerful. It does not always come with dramatic declarations. Instead, it shows up in smaller, braver decisions — speaking honestly, stepping back when needed, leaning in when safe, choosing relationships that reflect growth rather than fear. When you begin to relate from wholeness instead of survival, everything changes. And that is healing.</p></div>
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</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Wed, 11 Feb 2026 23:12:40 +0000</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Lectio Divina: Listening for God’s Word in the Present Moment]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/lectio-divina-listening-for-god-s-word-in-the-present-moment</link><description><![CDATA[<img align="left" hspace="5" src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/images/Psalm 112-7 NABRE.png"/>This post introduces Lectio Divina and explains why Phasing Out of Trauma uses multiple Bible translations. Using Psalm 112:7, it shows how Scripture speaks uniquely into fear, trust, hope, and receiving God’s care in real life.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_Ubgsec4tQgWZq4ZwLPg49Q" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_2HRkIAoFSlqKdQUMa9UB4A" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_hHxQGMm8RouC4U5Ejn8REQ" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_8gNHq-BWT2qKQ6auvMoBaA" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true">Can the Bible Really Speak to You?</h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm_dTD4j82GTwMMWAIYs7f02w" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_dTD4j82GTwMMWAIYs7f02w"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 500px ; height: 333.33px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-medium zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Lectio%20Divina%20logo.png" size="medium" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_98stja2iShORNk4MJrufaA" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-center zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p></p><div style="text-align:left;"><h2><br></h2><p>Lectio Divina is an ancient Christian prayer practice rooted in the belief that <strong>God is still speaking through Scripture</strong> — personally, presently, and relationally. Rather than approaching the Bible for information or instruction, Lectio Divina invites us to listen. We read slowly. We notice what stirs. We allow a word or phrase to meet us where we are, trusting that God knows what we need to hear <em>today</em>. At <em>Phasing Out of Trauma</em>, we are incorporating Lectio Divina as a gentle, trauma-informed way of praying with Scripture — especially for women who may feel overwhelmed, disconnected, or unsure how to approach prayer in the midst of real life.</p><p><br></p><p>Scripture is rich, layered, and alive. As we start this journey of healing, it can be overwhelming to look at chunks of Biblical text, so in Phase 1 we introduce Lectio Divina using single scripture verses, and encourage women to read it as it's translated across multiple translations. we understand that no single translation can hold the <strong>full range of meaning, tone, and invitation</strong> contained within a verse if it could we wouldn't have the need to have so many different versions of the Bible.</p><p><br></p><p>When women are navigating trauma recovery, grief, uncertainty, or difficult news, they are often living in <strong>very specific emotional and spiritual moments</strong>. One translation may resonate deeply, while another may feel distant or inaccessible. By praying with <strong>multiple translations</strong>, we allow Scripture to:</p><ul><li><p>speak in different emotional registers</p></li><li><p>emphasize different aspects of the same truth</p></li><li><p>meet each woman in the <em>here and now</em> of her lived experience</p></li></ul><p>This practice does not dilute Scripture — it <strong>reveals its fullness</strong>. It honors the reality that God’s Word can speak comfort, courage, steadiness, hope, or care depending on what is needed in the moment.</p><hr style="margin-left:0px;margin-right:auto;"><h2>Psalm 112:7 as a Living Example</h2><p>As we walk through Phase 1, we are given multiple verses to contemplate using Lectio Divina, after accepting God's willingness to pull us out of the mire and slim and mud of the pits our trauma has cast us into, we next encounter&nbsp;<strong>Psalm 112:7</strong>, a verse that speaks honestly about life as it is — not as we wish it were.</p><p><br></p><p>Across translations, Psalm 112:7 acknowledges that <strong>bad news comes</strong>. It does not deny fear or difficulty. Instead, it turns our attention to the posture of the heart in the midst of it.</p><br></div>
<p></p></div></div><div data-element-id="elm_RoN_4MmOXUSIwG61cOyX5Q" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_RoN_4MmOXUSIwG61cOyX5Q"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 1024px !important ; height: 1024px !important ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-original zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/images/Psalm%20112-7%20NABRE.png" size="original" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_Rar6bkW3l2VqNV6Hb7K8mw" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-left zptext-align-mobile-left zptext-align-tablet-left " data-editor="true"><p></p><div><p></p><div><div><p><span style="font-size:16px;">Here’s what emerges when we listen closely to <strong>Psalm 112:7 (NABRE)</strong>:</span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">“They do not fear bad news; their hearts are firm, secure in the LORD.”</span></strong></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The NABRE uses the words <strong>“firm”</strong> and <strong>“secure”</strong>, which point less to emotion and more to <strong>structure</strong>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">This is not about <em>feeling</em> unafraid. It’s about having something inside that <strong>does not collapse</strong> when bad news arrives. In trauma-informed language, this reads as: internal steadiness; groundedness; the presence of an inner anchor. The NABRE suggests that fear may still exist — but it does not dismantle the heart.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The phrase <strong>“secure in the LORD”</strong> is key. Security here is not tied to outcomes, explanations, or relief from suffering. It is relational. The heart is secure <em>because of where it is held</em>, not because the situation has changed. This matters deeply for women in recovery, because: circumstances may still be unstable; answers may still be absent; healing may still be unfolding. Yet security is possible <em>now</em>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The NABRE’s tone is calm, almost understated. It does not use emotionally charged language. It doesn’t rush toward hope or confidence.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">Instead, it names a <strong>quiet, settled orientation</strong>: the heart is firm; the heart is secure; the anchor is the Lord. This makes the NABRE especially resonant for: women further along in recovery;&nbsp;moments when calm has been earned slowly; seasons where faith is less expressive and more embodied.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">More than any other translation, the NABRE presents trust as a <strong>place</strong> rather than a feeling.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The heart is not bracing itself.<br> It is not striving.<br> It is <em>standing</em>.</span></p></div>
</div></div><p></p></div></div><div data-element-id="elm_CQ9oJQUgjdSSn4HYf4AhCA" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_CQ9oJQUgjdSSn4HYf4AhCA"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 1024px !important ; height: 1024px !important ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-original zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Psalm%20112-7%20Doucay-Rheims.png" size="original" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_nIBgy7PumC_2g6yVzSBiBg" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-left zptext-align-mobile-left zptext-align-tablet-left " data-editor="true"><p></p><div><div><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The <strong>Douay-Rheims</strong> translation carries a <em>distinctly different spiritual tone</em> than the others, and it’s especially tender for women in early or fragile stages of healing.</span></p><blockquote><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">“He shall not fear evil tidings: his heart is ready to hope in the Lord.”</span></strong><br><span style="font-size:16px;"><em>(Psalm 112:7, Douay-Rheims)</em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><em><br></em></span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span></blockquote><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The phrase <strong>“ready to hope”</strong> is the heart of this translation. This does <em>not</em> say:&nbsp;that hope is already present;&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">that fear is gone; that confidence has been achieved. Instead, it names <strong>capacity forming</strong>. The Douay-Rheims honors the moment when a person cannot yet say <em>“I hope”</em>, but can say:</span></p><blockquote><p><em><span style="font-size:16px;">“I am becoming able to hope.”&nbsp;</span></em><span style="font-size:16px;">For trauma recovery, this is profoundly merciful.</span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br> “Ready” implies preparation, gentleness, and timing.&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">This translation recognizes that hope:&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">is not forced;&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">cannot be commanded;&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">often comes after a long season of endurance.&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">The heart is being made ready — not rushed.&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">This is why this translation speaks so clearly to&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">women early in healing,&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">moments just after bad news, and&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">seasons where faith feels thin but not absent.<br><br></span><span style="font-size:16px;">The Douay-Rheims still names <strong>“evil tidings.”&nbsp;</strong></span><span style="font-size:16px;">Bad news is real. The threat is real.&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">But the emphasis is not on eliminating fear — it is on <strong>what is quietly growing underneath it</strong>.&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">Hope is emerging <em>in the presence of fear</em>, not instead of it.</span></blockquote><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The phrase <strong>“in the Lord”</strong> anchors this hope. This is not optimism. It is not wishful thinking. It is not positive reframing. The Douay-Rheims frames hope as <strong>relational</strong> — something that rises because the heart is turning toward God, even before it knows what will happen next.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">More than any other translation, the Douay-Rheims captures a <strong>threshold moment</strong> in the spiritual life.</span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><span style="font-size:16px;">Not despair.<br> Not peace.<br> But the sacred in-between.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">It is the moment when the heart says:</span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><em><span style="font-size:16px;">“I am not there yet — but I am turning toward life.”</span></em></p></blockquote></div>
</div><p></p></div></div><div data-element-id="elm_jC5sqUUOuhgYDGmEzidPYQ" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_jC5sqUUOuhgYDGmEzidPYQ"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 1024px !important ; height: 1024px !important ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-original zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Psalm%20112-7%20NIV.png" size="original" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_iS4udlE7--GZipouGrZ4jg" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-left zptext-align-mobile-left zptext-align-tablet-left " data-editor="true"><p></p><div><p>The <strong>NIV</strong> sits right in the middle of this verse’s emotional spectrum — and that’s actually its gift. It holds <strong>endurance and trust together</strong> without drifting too far toward either calm resolution <em>or</em> fragile emergence.</p><blockquote><p><strong><br></strong></p><p><strong>“They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the LORD.”</strong><br><em>(Psalm 112:7, NIV)</em></p></blockquote><p><br></p><p>The word <strong>“steadfast”</strong> is doing the heavy lifting here. This is not a momentary state. It implies something <strong>maintained over time</strong>. In contrast to: NABRE’s&nbsp;<em>settled security and&nbsp;&nbsp;</em>Douay-Rheims’ <em>hope beginning to form&nbsp; <span style="font-style:normal;">t</span></em>he NIV speaks to <strong>staying power</strong>. It names the kind of faith that: shows up again tomorrow;&nbsp;keeps choosing God;&nbsp;holds steady even when the situation hasn’t changed.&nbsp;For trauma recovery, this resonates deeply with <strong>midlife perseverance</strong>.</p><p><br></p><p>The NIV doesn’t say the heart <em>is</em> secure. It says the heart is <strong>trusting</strong>. That verb matters. Trust here is: active chosen and practiced. This translation acknowledges that trust is something we <strong>do</strong>, often repeatedly, especially when fear tries to reassert itself. This makes the NIV especially fitting for women who are carrying responsibility; supporting others while healing themselves; and&nbsp;continuing to function in the middle of unresolved pain</p><br><p>“They will have no fear of bad news” in the NIV does not read as denial — it reads as <strong>refusal to be governed by fear</strong>. This isn’t: “Fear never arises.”</p><blockquote></blockquote><p>It’s: “Fear does not take the lead.”&nbsp;The NIV allows fear to knock — but not to move in.</p><p><br></p><p>Stylistically, the NIV is plainspoken and grounded. It avoids elevated or poetic language. That makes it particularly accessible for everyday prayer, group settings and women who feel distanced from “religious” language. Spiritually, it communicates:&nbsp;<em>“This kind of trust can live inside ordinary life.”</em></p><p><br></p><p>The NIV acts as a <strong>bridge</strong> between the other translations. It’s more active than NABRE. It is&nbsp; more established than Douay-Rheims. It is less interior than NRSV. It is less relationally explicit than NLT.&nbsp;</p></div>
<p></p></div></div><div data-element-id="elm_2TUt0sBxeFeFpYqGqphlNA" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_2TUt0sBxeFeFpYqGqphlNA"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 1024px !important ; height: 1024px !important ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-original zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Psalm%20112-7%20NRSV.png" size="original" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_mqKs3KVyzjvN7U_XplJ08A" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-left zptext-align-mobile-left zptext-align-tablet-left " data-editor="true"><p></p><div><div><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The <strong>NRSV</strong> is the most <em>spare</em> and <em>unembellished</em> of the translations we are using, and that restraint is exactly where its strength lies—especially for moments of shock or impact.</span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><br></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">“They are not afraid of evil tidings; their hearts are firm, secure in the LORD.”</span></strong><br><span style="font-size:16px;"><em>(Psalm 112:7, NRSV)</em></span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span></blockquote><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">Like the NABRE, the NRSV uses <strong>“firm”</strong> and <strong>“secure”</strong>, but the tone is different. Where the NABRE feels <em>settled</em>, the NRSV feels <strong>resolved</strong>. There is no emotional padding here. It offers no softening language. No explanation. This is faith that stands <strong>without commentary</strong>. For trauma recovery, this matters in moments when words feel inadequate,&nbsp;emotion is frozen or explanation would feel intrusive.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The NRSV gives permission to simply <em>stand</em>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The phrase <strong>“evil tidings”</strong> is stark. It does not minimize the seriousness of the news. The NRSV acknowledges what just happened&nbsp;is not just inconvenience or a&nbsp;mild disruption, rather this is news that changes things.&nbsp;And yet, it immediately shifts to the heart’s condition. This translation is uniquely suited for <strong>the first moment after hearing bad news</strong>, when the body is still, the mind is catching up and the heart needs something solid to orient toward.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The NRSV does not describe how the person feels. It describes <strong>where the heart is positioned</strong>. “Secure in the LORD” here speaks of alignment, anchoring, and orientation.&nbsp;This is not reassurance. It is <strong>placement</strong>. Even if fear is present, the heart is not drifting.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The NRSV leaves space. It does not try to comfort. It does not promise ease. It does not tell us what to do next.This makes it especially appropriate for grief that is still wordless. shock that has not yet turned into emotion and prayer that is mostly silence.&nbsp; In trauma-informed spirituality, this is deeply respectful.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">If the Douay-Rheims is <em>movement toward hope</em>&nbsp;and the NIV is <em>endurance through practice</em></span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><span style="font-size:16px;">the NRSV is:&nbsp;</span><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">holding steady when nothing else can move yet.</span></strong></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span></div>
</div><p></p></div></div><div data-element-id="elm_kd9qIt5Q4_AZrMbezEimCw" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_kd9qIt5Q4_AZrMbezEimCw"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 1024px !important ; height: 1024px !important ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-original zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
                type:fullscreen,
                theme:dark"><figure role="none" class="zpimage-data-ref"><span class="zpimage-anchor" role="link" tabindex="0" aria-label="Open Lightbox" style="cursor:pointer;"><picture><img class="zpimage zpimage-style-none zpimage-space-none " src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Psalm%20112-7%20NLT.png" size="original" data-lightbox="true"></picture></span></figure></div>
</div><div data-element-id="elm_yYXVFJhMV2NjbN46bfk5mQ" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-left zptext-align-mobile-left zptext-align-tablet-left " data-editor="true"><p></p><div><div><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The <strong>NLT</strong> completes the arc in a really important way. Where the other translations focus on the <em>posture of the heart</em>, the NLT shifts the weight of the verse toward <strong>God’s action</strong>.</span></p><blockquote><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">“They do not fear bad news; they confidently trust the LORD to care for them.”</span></strong><br><span style="font-size:16px;"><em>(Psalm 112:7, NLT)</em></span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span></blockquote><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The NLT is the only translation that explicitly names <strong>care</strong>. This changes everything. The emphasis is no longer on our firmness of the heart or our&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">steadiness of faith or even our endurance or resolve. It is on <strong>who is responsible</strong>. The NLT says:</span><em><span style="font-size:16px;">&nbsp;Trust looks like letting yourself be cared for.&nbsp;</span></em><span style="font-size:16px;">For women in trauma recovery, this is often the hardest step—and the most healing one.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">Unlike the other translations, the NLT makes God the <strong>primary actor</strong>. The heart is not just firm. Hope is not just forming. Trust is not just practiced.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">Instead, God is actively caring, He is presently attending, and currently holding what the we no longer have to carry alone. This speaks directly to exhaustion, burnout, and the limits of self-reliance.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">“Confidently trust” in the NLT does not read as bravado or certainty. It reads as <strong>permission</strong>. This is not having to say, “I’ve got this.”&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">It's being able to say “I don’t have to have this, because God has me.”&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">The confidence comes from <em>who</em> is caring, not from the strength of the one trusting.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">More than any other translation, the NLT frames trust as <strong>relational</strong> rather than internal. Faith here is not a private achievement inside the heart. It is a lived relationship where care flows <strong>toward</strong> the person. This is why the NLT naturally aligns with healing in and feeling supported by community,&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">arrival at a place of safety,&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size:16px;">being received and accepted as you are, not as your expected to be.&nbsp;Trust is embodied as <strong>allowing oneself to be met</strong>.&nbsp;</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">If we look at the translations together:</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">NABRE</span></strong><span style="font-size:16px;"> — the heart is stable</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">Douay-Rheims</span></strong><span style="font-size:16px;"> — hope is becoming possible</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">NIV</span></strong><span style="font-size:16px;"> — trust is practiced over time</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">NRSV</span></strong><span style="font-size:16px;"> — the heart stands firm in impact</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">NLT</span></strong><span style="font-size:16px;"> — care is received</span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The NLT does not replace the others.<br> It <strong>fulfills</strong> them.</span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><span style="font-size:16px;">It answers the unspoken question underneath all the previous translations:</span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><em><span style="font-size:16px;">What makes this steadiness possible?</span></em></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span></blockquote><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><span style="font-size:16px;">The answer:</span></p><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-size:16px;"></span><p><strong><span style="font-size:16px;">The Lord cares for us.</span></strong></p></blockquote></div>
</div><p></p></div></div><div data-element-id="elm_4LAwxuuFlkGTcLAqJGZdVw" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-left zptext-align-mobile-left zptext-align-tablet-left " data-editor="true"><p></p><div><h2>Listening Rather Than Striving</h2><p>We've just unpacked 5 translations for you, but you don't need all of that information to allow God to speak to you in the moment, there is a recgonition when the Good Shepherd speaks, we know His voice, and we hear it in our souls.&nbsp; When you practice Lectio Divina, you'll automatically gravitate towards the message He intends for you.&nbsp; And as you enter into this practice, we invite you to come back and re-read the translation(s) that have the words, phrases, or invitations He spoke over you today, and see if our interpretation of them resonates with where you are in your healing journey.&nbsp;</p><p><br></p><h2>Pray Psalm 112:7 With Us</h2><p>We invite you to pray Psalm 112:7 through our guided <strong>Lectio Divina video</strong>, which includes multiple translations and spacious silence for reflection.</p><p><strong>Watch the Lectio Divina prayer on YouTube</strong><br><span><a target="_blank" href="https://youtu.be/9n0JTa4LFNs">https://youtu.be/9n0JTa4LFNs </a></span><br></p><p>You are welcome to pause, return, or revisit this prayer as often as needed. Lectio Divina is not about moving forward quickly — it is about allowing God’s Word to meet you gently, in real time.</p><p><br></p><p>Lectio Divina reminds us that Scripture is not static.<br> It is living — and it speaks differently in different seasons.</p><p>Through this practice, we make space to hear God’s care unfolding <strong>here and now</strong>, one word at a time.</p></div>
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</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Fri, 06 Feb 2026 21:21:19 +0000</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Responsibility Beyond Trauma: From Survival to a Chosen Life]]></title><link>https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/blogs/post/Responsibility-Beyond-Trauma-From-Survival-to-a-Chosen-Life</link><description><![CDATA[<img align="left" hspace="5" src="https://phasingoutoftrauma.zohosites.com/Phase 15 Teaching Topic Image.png"/>This Phase Topic Teaching explores responsibility beyond survival, examining how agency, accountability, and forgiveness develop as trauma healing unfolds. Drawing from Scripture and trauma experts, it helps translate recovery into daily, embodied living.]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="zpcontent-container blogpost-container "><div data-element-id="elm_bJSMXssjTfSH67Mh43BXZw" data-element-type="section" class="zpsection "><style type="text/css"></style><div class="zpcontainer-fluid zpcontainer"><div data-element-id="elm_0NCwHPVaRFeYVRhZq1Okcw" data-element-type="row" class="zprow zprow-container zpalign-items- zpjustify-content- " data-equal-column=""><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_El8CZT8TSPOOHX6GkvL5ZQ" data-element-type="column" class="zpelem-col zpcol-12 zpcol-md-12 zpcol-sm-12 zpalign-self- "><style type="text/css"></style><div data-element-id="elm_AQPTnBIi27HjBxr4ZSnmDQ" data-element-type="image" class="zpelement zpelem-image "><style> @media (min-width: 992px) { [data-element-id="elm_AQPTnBIi27HjBxr4ZSnmDQ"] .zpimage-container figure img { width: 500px ; height: 750.00px ; } } </style><div data-caption-color="" data-size-tablet="" data-size-mobile="" data-align="center" data-tablet-image-separate="false" data-mobile-image-separate="false" class="zpimage-container zpimage-align-center zpimage-tablet-align-center zpimage-mobile-align-center zpimage-size-medium zpimage-tablet-fallback-fit zpimage-mobile-fallback-fit hb-lightbox " data-lightbox-options="
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</div><div data-element-id="elm_BcC9ayJwQIudsEmT-qCtPQ" data-element-type="heading" class="zpelement zpelem-heading "><style></style><h2 class="zpheading zpheading-align-center zpheading-align-mobile-center zpheading-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><span><span><span style="font-size:22px;"><strong>God's Invitation to Welcome Responsibility</strong></span></span></span></h2></div>
<div data-element-id="elm_ZAX6YTPuQQu-hosGdZNy9g" data-element-type="text" class="zpelement zpelem-text "><style></style><div class="zptext zptext-align-center zptext-align-mobile-center zptext-align-tablet-center " data-editor="true"><p></p><div><p style="text-align:justify;">For many women, the word <em>responsibility</em> doesn’t arrive as a neutral concept. It carries memory. It can echo voices that demanded too much before safety was ever established, or moments when blame was cloaked in moral or spiritual language and handed to someone who was already overwhelmed. Responsibility can feel like pressure added to a life that has long been shaped by endurance rather than choice.</p><p style="text-align:justify;"><br></p><div style="text-align:justify;"><p>In trauma recovery, responsibility has to be reclaimed carefully—not discarded, and never weaponized. When held rightly, responsibility does not crush the wounded. It restores dignity. It returns agency to women who learned how to survive without it, and it opens the door to something many have not experienced in a long time: the ability to choose their lives with intention rather than simply endure them.</p><p><br></p><p>This is why the question Jesus asks—<em>“Do you want to be made well?”</em> (John 5:6)—is so significant. It is not an accusation or a demand. It is an invitation into partnership. It honors suffering while also awakening agency. Responsibility, in this sense, is not about blame or earning healing; it is about responding to the possibility of restoration. And when a woman begins to answer that question for herself, responsibility becomes one of the clearest signs that she is no longer living only in survival, but stepping into a life that is being consciously—and courageously—chosen.</p><p><br></p></div>
<h2><span style="font-size:22px;"><strong>Responsibility Begins With the Choice to Heal — The First Act of Agency</strong></span></h2><h2></h2><h2></h2><p></p><div style="text-align:justify;"><p>For many women who enter <em>Phasing Out of Trauma</em>, the first meaningful responsibility they take is not moral or relational—it is internal. It is the quiet but courageous decision to show up. To name pain rather than continue burying it. To engage a process instead of enduring in silence. To stop waiting for rescue and begin participating in their own restoration. This choice may not look dramatic from the outside, but it is profound, because trauma so often strips people of agency, teaching passivity, hyper-adaptation, or disappearance as the safest ways to survive.</p><p><br></p><p>Healing begins when a woman makes a different kind of decision—one that may feel small but carries enormous weight. She decides, sometimes for the first time, <em>I will no longer abandon myself.</em> That decision is the first true act of agency. It is not about fixing everything or knowing what comes next; it is about choosing presence over absence and honesty over numbing.</p><p><br></p><p><span>This is why that earlier question Jesus asks carries so much weight. It is not about worthiness or pressure, and it is never coercive. God does not force healing on us, nor does He rush our readiness. Instead, He continually invites us—day by day, and often moment by moment—into participation. Taking responsibility for healing means choosing, again and again, to stay engaged in the journey: to return when we feel overwhelmed, to reach for support when we want to withdraw, to practice what restores us even when it feels slow. This kind of responsibility is not about getting it right; it is about remaining present. It is the doorway through which agency keeps returning, one choice at a time, as we continue walking the path of healing with God.</span></p><p><span><br></span></p></div>
<h2><span style="font-size:22px;"><strong>The Trauma You Live With Was Not Your Fault</strong></span></h2><h2></h2><h2></h2><p></p><div><p style="text-align:justify;">Before responsibility can widen or deepen, one truth must be stated clearly and without qualification: <strong>the trauma you are living with is not your fault</strong>. Trauma does not arise from personal weakness or failure. It emerges from experiences where power was misused, boundaries were violated, protection failed, or harm was allowed to continue. Abuse, neglect, betrayal, violence, and injustice do not happen in isolation, and they do not happen without responsibility belonging somewhere outside the survivor.</p><p style="text-align:justify;"><br></p><p style="text-align:justify;">Trauma experts have been unequivocal on this point. <strong><span>Bessel van der Kolk</span></strong> reminds us that trauma is not defined by what is “wrong” with a person, but by <em>what happened to them</em> and how their body and nervous system adapted to survive. Survival responses—freezing, appeasing, dissociating, enduring—are not moral failures; they are biological and psychological strategies that kept a person alive. Naming this clearly is not avoidance of responsibility; it is the foundation of healing.</p><p style="text-align:justify;"><br></p><p style="text-align:justify;">Moral clarity matters because when responsibility is misassigned, harm multiplies. Survivors end up carrying guilt that does not belong to them, while those who caused harm—or benefited from silence—remain unexamined. This distortion does not heal trauma; it compounds it. Scripture itself refuses this confusion, reminding us that God “rescues the weak and the needy” and does not confuse the victim with the offender (Psalm 82:4). Healing requires that truth be told plainly.</p><p style="text-align:justify;"><br></p><p style="text-align:justify;">This pattern of misplaced responsibility is explored in <em><span>Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me)</span></em>, where the authors explain how human beings instinctively avoid accountability in order to protect their self-image. Denial, minimization, and rationalization allow harm to remain unaddressed and unresolved. For survivors, understanding this dynamic can be profoundly stabilizing—it clarifies that the weight they have carried was never meant to be theirs alone.</p><p style="text-align:justify;"><br></p><p style="text-align:justify;">This is why learning to distinguish <em>what is not yours to carry</em> is as essential as learning what is. Healing requires responsibility to be accurately placed—neither inflated through false guilt nor erased through denial. When responsibility is named truthfully, survivors are freed from self-blame, and the path forward becomes clearer, steadier, and grounded in reality rather than shame.</p><p style="text-align:justify;"><br></p></div>
<h2><span style="font-size:22px;"><strong>Taking Responsibility for How We Lived While Surviving</strong></span></h2><h2></h2><h2></h2><p></p><div style="text-align:justify;"><p>As safety and capacity grow, many women arrive at a tender and often surprising realization: <strong>survival shaped them</strong>. Not just internally, but practically. Trauma does not only leave memories behind; it leaves patterns. It teaches the body and mind how to get through what felt impossible at the time.</p><p><br></p><p>For some women, that meant learning to withdraw—to stay small, quiet, or unseen because visibility once felt dangerous. For others, it meant hyper-control: managing everything and everyone because unpredictability was terrifying. Some learned to people-please to preserve connection, to numb emotions to survive overwhelm, or to stay in a constant state of alertness because danger once arrived without warning. These behaviors were not random. They were intelligent, adaptive responses to unsafe environments. They helped women endure what could not be changed.</p><p><br></p><p>But what once protected can later begin to constrain.</p><p><br></p><p>As life becomes safer, the same patterns that once kept a woman alive may start to cost her intimacy, peace, or freedom. She may notice that she avoids conflict even when her needs matter, or that she stays guarded in relationships that are no longer threatening. She may realize that anger still flares quickly, or that shutting down has become automatic even when she wants connection. Healing does not require judging these patterns—it allows them to be seen clearly and compassionately.</p><p><br></p><p>This is where trauma-informed accountability becomes possible. <strong><span>Janina Fisher</span></strong> reminds us that many survival behaviors are <em>protective parts</em> of the self—strategies that developed when there were no better options. Healing invites curiosity rather than condemnation. A woman may gently say, <em>“This made sense then. It kept me safe. And I don’t want to keep living this way now.”</em> That statement alone marks profound growth.</p><p><br></p><p>This is also where accountability becomes liberating rather than punishing. <strong><span>Dana Coverstone</span></strong> describes accountability as alignment rather than self-attack. Simple accountability does not dramatize failure or demand endless explanation. It names what is true and chooses redirection. It sounds like honesty without humiliation and responsibility without collapse.</p><p><br></p><p>In trauma recovery, this means understanding <strong>why</strong> a behavior emerged while also acknowledging its <strong>impact</strong>—on oneself and on others. A woman may recognize that withdrawal once protected her, but now keeps her isolated. She may see that control once created safety, but now strains relationships. Accountability allows her to hold both truths at once. It creates space for change without erasing context, and growth without self-hatred. In that space, responsibility becomes not a burden, but a pathway forward—one that honors the past while making room for a different future.</p><p><br></p></div>
<h2><span style="font-weight:bold;font-size:22px;">How Responsibility Brings Health and Safety Into Our Relationships</span></h2><h2></h2><h2></h2><h2></h2><p></p><div style="text-align:justify;"><p>As responsibility deepens, it begins to take relational form. Healing is no longer something that happens only within us; it reshapes how we engage with others, how we repair what can be repaired, and how we protect what must be protected. This is where responsibility becomes practical, embodied, and deeply life-giving.</p><p><br></p><p>In this stage of healing, confession—rightly understood—becomes a tool for creating greater health, not a requirement for exposure. In <em><span>The Art of Confession</span></em>, <strong><span>Paul Wilkes</span></strong> reframes confession as an act of liberation rather than humiliation. Confession, he explains, is not about self-loathing or public self-disclosure; it is about truth that restores integrity and makes forward movement possible. For trauma survivors, this distinction is essential.</p><p><br></p><p>In supportive, safe relationships, confession can be a powerful way to own harmful actions and demonstrate change. A woman may name how survival patterns—withdrawal, control, reactivity, silence—have impacted others, not to punish herself, but to repair trust. Confession in these spaces sounds like honesty paired with responsibility: <em>This is how I showed up. This is how it affected you. And this is how I am choosing to live differently now.</em> When offered freely and received safely, this kind of confession strengthens connection and signals growth.</p><p><br></p><p>At the same time, trauma-informed responsibility recognizes that confession is not always meant for every relationship. Many women have histories of being exposed without consent, silenced when they spoke, or harmed further by sharing truth in unsafe spaces. Healing does not require continued vulnerability in relationships that remain dismissive, manipulative, or abusive. In those cases, confession may take a different and equally important form: self-confession.</p><p><br></p><p>Self-confession allows a woman to name, with clarity and compassion, where she has continued to tolerate harm, override her own needs, or remain in relationships that diminish her well-being. This is not self-blame—it is discernment. Naming these patterns creates the clarity needed to establish boundaries of protection. In this way, responsibility is expressed not through disclosure, but through limits. Through choosing distance instead of exposure. Through saying, <em>I will no longer place myself in harm’s way.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p>Used wisely, confession becomes a marker of maturity rather than vulnerability alone. It helps repair what can be repaired and safeguards what must be protected. It reflects a new kind of responsibility—one that honors growth, values safety, and actively shapes a healthier future. In this way, responsibility does not tether a woman to her past; it equips her to move forward with strength, wisdom, and integrity.</p><p><br></p></div>
<p></p><h2>What Trauma Experts Teach About Responsibility</h2><p></p><div style="text-align:justify;"><p>Trauma research consistently confirms what survivors already know in their bodies: <strong>responsibility cannot be demanded before safety exists</strong>. Accountability that arrives too early does not empower—it overwhelms. When the nervous system is still bracing for threat, responsibility feels like danger rather than choice, and expectation feels like pressure rather than invitation. Trauma-informed healing understands that responsibility must be <em>grown</em>, not imposed.</p><p><br></p><p><strong><span>Bessel van der Kolk</span></strong> has been clear that agency depends on regulation. A nervous system locked in survival mode cannot access meaningful choice. In states of fight, flight, freeze, or collapse, the body is focused on protection, not reflection. From this perspective, responsibility does not begin with behavior correction—it begins with restoring safety in the body. Only when the nervous system settles can a person truly choose, respond, and take ownership in ways that are life-giving rather than self-punishing.</p><p><br></p><p>Building on this, <strong><span>Janina Fisher</span></strong> emphasizes that healing requires learning to hold oneself accountable <em>without internal attack</em>. Many trauma survivors have highly developed inner critics that confuse responsibility with self-condemnation. Fisher teaches that shame shuts down learning, while curiosity keeps the nervous system open. In healthy healing, responsibility shows up first as awareness—<em>I notice this pattern</em>—then as compassion—<em>I understand why it developed</em>—and eventually as choice—<em>I can respond differently now</em>. Accountability, in this model, is a sign of integration rather than judgment.</p><p><br></p><p><strong><span>Tim Fletcher</span></strong> adds an important relational dimension to this conversation. Fletcher often speaks about responsibility as one of the clearest indicators that a person is moving out of emotional immaturity and into wholeness. In early trauma recovery, people may externalize responsibility entirely or internalize it excessively. As healing progresses, responsibility becomes more balanced. A person begins to own their emotions, reactions, and choices without taking responsibility for others’ behavior. This shift—owning <em>self</em> while releasing responsibility for <em>others</em>—is a significant marker of emotional health.</p><p><br></p><p>Similarly, <strong><span>Gabor Maté</span></strong> frames responsibility as inseparable from self-awareness and compassion. Maté teaches that trauma often disconnects people from their authentic needs and boundaries, leading them to override themselves in order to maintain attachment or safety. Healing restores the capacity to take responsibility for one’s inner life—emotions, limits, values—without shame. From this perspective, responsibility expands as a person reconnects with themselves. It becomes less about control and more about alignment with truth.</p><p><br></p><p>Taken together, these voices offer a consistent message: responsibility is not a prerequisite for healing; it is a <strong>product of healing</strong>. It forms as safety is established, expands as awareness grows, and matures as integration takes place. Trauma-informed responsibility is relationally supported, paced with capacity, and always separated from condemnation. It does not disappear in healing—it becomes one of the clearest signs that healing is actually happening.</p><p><br></p></div>
<h2><span style="font-size:22px;"><strong>Responsibility in the Present: The Life Being Chosen Now</strong></span></h2><h2></h2><h2></h2><p></p><div style="text-align:justify;"><p>As healing stabilizes, responsibility naturally begins to shift away from the past and toward the present. Earlier in the journey, much of the work centered on understanding what happened, naming harm accurately, and restoring safety. But as capacity grows, a different question starts to rise—not only <em>What happened to me?</em> but <em>How am I living now?</em> This is not a departure from trauma work; it is evidence that healing is taking root.</p><p><br></p><p>Scripture speaks plainly into this stage when it invites us to “test our own actions.” This is not harsh scrutiny or self-surveillance. It is an invitation to integrity. It reflects a growing ability to look honestly at our lives without collapsing into shame or defensiveness. Responsibility here is no longer about surviving the past; it is about stewarding the present.</p><p><br></p><p>This is the heart of <strong>Phase 15</strong>: <em>I can take responsibility for my maladaptive behaviors. I seek forgiveness in a way that honors me, honors God, and supports my continued healing.</em> By this stage, women are often able to see how trauma shaped certain patterns—reactivity, avoidance, control, emotional withdrawal, or numbing—and to name them not as character flaws, but as strategies that no longer serve the life they are choosing now.</p><p><br></p><p>Responsibility in Phase 15 may look like recognizing that anger once protected you, but now damages connection. It may mean acknowledging that people-pleasing helped you stay safe, but now erodes your sense of self. It may involve seeing how shutting down avoided pain, but now blocks intimacy. Taking responsibility does not mean condemning these behaviors; it means owning their impact and choosing differently with the tools and support you now have.</p><p><br></p><p>Forgiveness at this stage is also reframed. It is not rushed, coerced, or performative. Seeking forgiveness may involve repairing a relationship where it is safe and appropriate—naming harm honestly, taking responsibility without over-explaining, and demonstrating change over time. In other cases, forgiveness may be inward and spiritual: releasing self-condemnation, grieving what those behaviors cost you, and allowing God’s grace to meet you where growth is still unfolding.</p><p><br></p><p>Just as importantly, Phase 15 honors that forgiveness does not require reconciliation with unsafe people. Responsibility may instead look like setting firmer boundaries, reducing contact, or choosing distance where continued engagement would cause harm. In this way, responsibility honors not only others, but the woman herself—and the healing God is actively cultivating in her.</p><p><br></p><p>This stage of responsibility is formation, not punishment. Trauma recovery does not remove moral agency; it restores it. Responsibility becomes a sign of freedom—the growing ability to pause instead of react, to choose instead of repeat, and to live in alignment with values rather than survival instincts. As women move through Phase 15, responsibility becomes less about what trauma shaped, and more about who they are becoming as they move beyond it—grounded, discerning, and increasingly free.</p></div>
<h2><span style="font-size:22px;"><strong>Responsibility as the Path Into Fullness</strong></span></h2><h2></h2><h2></h2><p>Trauma teaches survival.</p><p>Healing teaches choice.</p><p>And responsibility, rightly held, allows a woman to step into the fullness of who God is restoring her to be.</p><p><br></p><p style="text-align:justify;">Jesus did not promise mere survival. He promised abundant life. Responsibility is not what chains us to the past — it is what anchors us in the present and opens the future.</p><p><br></p><h3><span style="font-size:22px;"><strong>Closing Reflection</strong></span></h3><h3></h3><h3></h3><p><em>I am not responsible for what was done to me.</em><br><em>I am responsible for how I live now.</em></p><p><em>With God’s help, I choose healing.</em><br><em>I choose integrity.</em><br><em>I choose life.</em></p></div>
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</div></div></div></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded><pubDate>Mon, 26 Jan 2026 23:32:06 +0000</pubDate></item></channel></rss>