In regard to PTSD, I've heard so many times - from both survivors and clinicians - once you're broken you can't be fixed (Three Ways Trauma Affects Your Brain). Really? I find that hard to believe. And now, there's proof that's all a bunch of baloney.

Recently a survivor wrote me a note about the fact that she was beginning therapy, finally. "I know there's a lot to do," she wrote, "Do you have any tips for how to approach the work of posttraumatic growth?" Do I have tips? You bet I do.

"I live in such a fog!", Ophelia said to me last week. "I can't see my way out of it." Boy, do I remember that feeling! Ophelia lives overseas and we work on her PTSD recovery via Skype. She's terrifically motivated, open to trying new approaches and honest about her healing experience. The PTSD fog, I've learned, is universal. I myself waded through it for decades until is was so thick I felt its swirl around me was more real than the world in which everyone else lived.

That pesky conundrum: to forgive or not to forgive in PTSD recovery? I recently interviewed a psychologist who had a terrific approach to forgiveness. She said that it can be done at any time according to any process dependent on the perspective of the survivor. Why do I love that position? Because unlike others who say, "You must forgive before you can heal!" it leaves the decision in the hands of the person in which it belongs: you.

It may be a new year but old trauma topics continue to be relevant! I’ve written before about how important it is to move slowly in recovery. A few years ago, I worked with a client, Anna, who refused to heed this advice. When she had a small success in healing, she took that as license to go full speed ahead – and always slammed herself into a wall, had a meltdown and had to start over again. I’m no stranger to this cycle. I, too, had to learn to take myself down a notch or two from warp speed. It makes total sense that we do this. After trauma speed can be comforting as it stops us from spending too much time in situations or uncomfortable places in our minds. Plus, the road to healing is long and frustrating, which makes you just want to get it over with fast! Instead of recapping what it means to pace yourself in recovery, today I’m mulling over what it means to pace yourself in your emotions.

When I was struggling with PTSD one of the things that I always hated about birthdays and new years were how they brought me face to face more than usual with the passage of time. More than that: They forced me to acknowledge the fact that I was losing days and months and weeks and years of my life to symptoms I could no more control than I could understand. What I'm trying to say is, new years celebrations always made me feel more sad and anxious than usual.

Before your PTSD diagnosis, when you’re struggling with PTSD symptoms, you know exactly what to do: You have to figure out what’s wrong. If you’re proactive about chasing down answers and fortunate enough to find a professional who recognizes the signs of PTSD and diagnoses you with posttraumatic stress disorder, your next challenge is deciding how to approach recovery. Since there is no single way to heal, it’s up to you to know your options.

During my own PTSD decades (yes, I struggled for 25+ years!), one of the toughest things for me was having to be around other people when I felt horrible, depressed, anxious, angry, sleep-deprived and just generally dysfunctional.

When I first started my PTSD recovery I read a slew of books and articles about how trauma recovery is supposed to happen. Many of the theories, dating all the way back to the late 1800s (check out Charcot and Janet if you want to do some research), spoke about the need to 'integrate' the trauma by being able to tell your story. Huge road block: I couldn't tell my story. Did that mean I wouldn't be able to heal?

Why do senseless things happen to people who are just doing their best to move through life being good? You can be productively contributing to society, helpless and young, older and learning to evolve on the continuum of your own private journey here on earth -- it doesn't seem to matter what kind of person you are, trauma randomly selects you to scoop up in the siphon of its cyclone. Why?