A Cry for Help

People often misunderstand

What mental illness looks like.

They see the scars,

The tears,

The isolation,

The exhaustion,

And assume it's attention.

But they don't see

The pain beneath it.

They don't see the depression

That makes getting out of bed

Feel like climbing a mountain.

They don't see the anxiety

That keeps the mind racing

Long after the world has gone quiet.

They don't see the grief

For the life that was lost,

The person you used to be,

Or the dreams that slipped away.

They don't see the fear

That lives inside a nervous system

That no longer feels safe.

They don't see the trauma

Begging to be heard

After years of silence.

They don't see the loneliness

Of feeling disconnected

Even in a crowded room.

They don't see what it feels like

To be misunderstood,

To have your pain dismissed,

Or your struggles minimized.

They don't see the hopelessness

That whispers nothing will ever change.

They don't see the helplessness

Of feeling trapped inside emotions

You cannot escape.

They don't see the shame

That convinces you

That you are somehow flawed.

They don't see the guilt

That weighs heavily on your heart,

Making you blame yourself

For things that were never your fault.

When life feels impossible,

And every breath feels heavy,

You aren't looking for attention.

You're looking for relief.

You're looking for safety

In a world that feels dangerous.

You're looking for control

When everything feels out of control.

You're looking for a way

To make the pain stop.

Sometimes hurting yourself

Isn't about wanting to die.

It's about desperately wanting

The suffering to end.

It's about emotions

Too overwhelming to hold alone.

It's about wounds

That were never allowed to heal.

It's about feeling broken down

By battles no one else can see.

Trauma has a voice.

Fear has a voice.

Pain has a voice.

Depression has a voice.

Anxiety has a voice.

Grief has a voice.

Sometimes those voices

Don't come out as words.

They come out as tears.

As panic.

As withdrawal.

As silence.

As behaviors people misunderstand.

What looks like giving up

May actually be someone

Fighting the hardest battle

Of their life.

Behind every cry for help

Is a person

Who wants to feel safe, loved, understood.

Who wants to know

They are not alone.

Who wants to believe

That tomorrow can be different.

And sometimes,

The bravest thing a person can do

Is not suffering in silence.

It's reaching out.

It's telling someone.

It's allowing another person

To help carry the weight.

Because healing begins

The moment someone realizes

They don't have to fight alone.

That being misunderstood

Does not make them invisible.

That feeling broken

Does not mean they cannot heal.

That hope can still exist

Even in the darkest moments.

By Amy Cutting

Courage, Growth, and Success

There was a season

When fear walked beside me

And simply getting through each day was enough.

I moved carefully through life,

Guarding a wounded heart

That had endured more pain than it deserved.

 

Abuse taught me to doubt myself.

It taught me to stay quiet.

It taught me to believe

That my voice didn't matter.

But deep inside,

A small part of me refused to give up.

 

That part became courage.

 

Courage wasn't loud.

It wasn't fearless.

It was taking one small step forward

Even when I was terrified.

It was speaking up

When my voice trembled.

It was believing

That I deserved better.

 

With time came growth.

 

I learned that my worth

Was not determined by how others treated me.

I learned that boundaries

Were not selfish.

I learned to say "no."

I learned to trust myself.

Most importantly,

I learned to choose peace over chaos.

 

And then came success.

 

Not the kind measured by money alone,

But the kind measured by freedom.

The kind measured by healing.

The kind measured by waking up

And finally feeling safe.

 

I built a business.

I wrote books.

I found my voice.

I gained independence.

I created a life

That once felt impossible.

 

The abuse became part of my story,

But it did not become my ending.

 

Today, I stand stronger

Than I ever thought I could be.

Not because life was easy,

But because I kept going.

Because I chose courage over fear,

Growth over staying stuck,

And hope over giving up.

 

I am living proof

That what tried to break you

Does not have to define you.

Sometimes the greatest success

Is simply becoming the person

You were always meant to be.

By Amy Cutting

No!

 

I once said "yes"

When I wanted to say "no."

I carried other people's burdens

And forgot I was allowed to say "no."

 

I feared disappointing others,

I feared being disliked.

So I sacrificed my own happiness

To keep everyone else HAPPY!.

 

Then one day I discovered

A simple word so small,

Yet powerful enough

To change it all.

 

No to guilt, fear, and people

Who only appeared

When they wanted something

 

No to being used and abused

No to ignoring me

To fit someone else's rules.

 

At first it felt uncomfortable,

Like learning something new.

But with every boundary,

My confidence grew.

 

Now saying "no" is not being angry,

It's not selfishness or pride.

It's simply self-respect

Standing by my side.

 

Because every time I say "no"

To what harms my soul,

I say "yes" to peace,

Freedom,

And becoming whole.

 

By, Amy Cutting

Living With CPTSD

 

My body remembers
what my mind tries to forget.

The yelling.
The fear.
The walking on eggshells
inside a house that never felt safe.

Even now,
years later,
my nervous system still reacts
as though danger is standing
right behind me.

I jump at loud voices.
I overthink simple conversations.
I apologize too much
for things that were never my fault.

People see me smile,
but they do not see
the panic hiding underneath it.

They do not see
how exhausting it is
to constantly scan the room,
reading faces, tones, and moods
just to feel safe.

CPTSD lives inside my body
like a storm that never fully leaves.

It shows up
in sleepless nights,
racing thoughts,
flashbacks,
nightmares,
and the fear
that something bad
is always about to happen.

Sometimes I feel trapped
between the past and the present,
trying to convince myself
that I survived
while my body still believes
I am stuck there.

Trauma taught me
how to survive,
but it never taught me
how to rest.

So I carry the weight
of hypervigilance
everywhere I go.

I struggle to trust.
I struggle to relax.
I struggle to believe
I deserve peace.

There are days
where emotional overload
feels unbearable,
where my thoughts become loud
and my heart races
for reasons I cannot explain.

And yet—
despite all of this—
I am still here.

Still healing.
Still learning.
Still fighting
to become someone
beyond the pain.

Because CPTSD
may explain my scars,
but it does not define my worth.

I am more
than what happened to me.

I am the little girl
who survived.
The woman
who kept going.
The voice
that finally learned
how to speak.

And even on the days
where fear feels heavy,
I remind myself
of something trauma tried
to make me forget:

I deserve peace too. 💜

My Best Friend, Heather

 

A best friend is a gift,

A treasure rare and true.

And when I count my blessings,

Heather, I think of you.

Through laughter and through struggles,

Through good days and the bad,

You've been there beside me,

The best friend I've ever had.

You listen without judging,

You care without demand.

You always seem to know

Just when to lend a hand.

You've celebrated victories,

And helped me through the pain.

You've reminded me of sunshine

When all I saw was rain.

True friendship isn't measured

By money, time, or fame.

It's measured by a loyal heart,

And yours has stayed the same.

Thank you for your kindness,

Your patience, and your care.

Life's journey feels much brighter

Simply because you're there.

So here's to you, dear Heather,

For all the things you do.

A wonderful best friend,

And a blessing through and through.

 

-Amy Cutting

Trapped in the Past

 

My body still remembers what my mind tries to forget

fear, shame, and panic

tears that roll down my face

fear of being forgotten

 

Some days I feel lost, abandoned, and stuck

Haunted by the past 

The hate, anguish, and want for revenge

Being overwhelmed with wanting freedom

 

Freedom from fear 

Freedom from hate,

Freedom from the grief I carry!

The pain I hold deep within

 

lack of forgiveness, 

lack of justice, 

lack of feeling safe in my own skin,

as though I can't move forward 

 

But, I do anyways!

 

By Amy Cutting

Forgiveness

 

I forgave

Not because they deserved it,

And not because I forgot.

Some wounds leave scars,

Some memories remain,

But I grew tired of carrying

The pain.

They can keep the drama,

The lies, and the blame.

I no longer need to play

Their game.

I've got dreams to chase,

Books to write,

A business to build,

And a future that feels bright.

I spent too many years

Living in fear.

Now I'm choosing peace

Over tears.

Forgiveness wasn't saying

What happened was okay.

It was choosing my freedom

And walking away.

The greatest gift I gave myself

Was finally letting go.

Not for them—

But so I could grow.

 

-Amy Cutting

From Surviving to Thriving

 

There was a time

When survival was my greatest accomplishment.

Not success.

Not confidence.

Not happiness.

Simply making it through another day.

 

I survived abuse that tried to convince me

I wasn't enough.

I survived people who silenced my voice

And expected me to remain small.

I survived the fear,

The manipulation,

The heartbreak,

And the loneliness that followed me for years.

 

There were days I doubted myself.

Days I questioned my worth.

Days I wondered if I would ever escape

The life I had been given.

But somewhere inside me,

A small spark refused to die.

 

That spark became courage.

And courage became change.

 

At thirty-seven,

I began learning lessons

Many people learn much earlier.

Not because I was incapable,

But because survival had occupied

The space where growth should have been.

I learned how to budget.

How to manage my money.

How to trust my own decisions.

How to stand on my own two feet.

How to build a life

That belonged to me.

 

I learned that being an adult

Wasn't about having all the answers.

It was about showing up,

Making mistakes,

Learning,

Growing,

And refusing to quit.

 

I started my own grooming business.

A dream that once felt impossible.

Each client,

Each wagging tail,

Each dog that trusted me,

Became proof that I was capable

Of building something meaningful.

 

Then I did something

I never imagined I could do.

I became an author.

 

Not once.

Not twice.

But four times.

 

The little girl who once felt unheard

Began filling pages with her voice.

The woman who spent years being silenced

Started telling her story.

Every chapter became an act of courage.

Every book became a reminder

That my past would no longer define me.

 

I walked away

From a dishonest and abusive marriage.

A decision that required strength

I didn't know I possessed.

Leaving meant choosing myself.

Choosing peace.

Choosing healing.

Choosing a future

Over a familiar pain.

 

And perhaps my greatest accomplishment

Was learning a single word.

 

No.

 

A word that once terrified me.

A word I was taught not to use.

A word that became the foundation

Of my freedom.

 

No to abuse.

No to manipulation.

No to disrespect.

No to sacrificing my happiness

For people who never valued it.

 

And yes—

Yes to boundaries.

Yes to healing.

Yes to independence.

Yes to dreams.

Yes to my own voice.

 

Today I live on my own.

I make my own choices.

I create my own future.

I manage my own home.

I write my own story.

 

I am not the frightened girl

Who spent years surviving.

I am a business owner.

An author.

A survivor.

A woman who fought for her freedom.

 

The abuse may be part of my story,

But it is no longer the ending.

 

Because after everything I survived,

I finally learned

How to thrive.

 

-Amy Cutting

Dear Younger Me

 

I know what it feels like to feel alone,

to sit in a room full of people

and still feel invisible.

 

I know what it feels like to ache quietly,

to carry pain so deep

it settles into your bones

 

I know what it feels like to feel hurt,

to trust with an open heart

and watch it break in your hands.

 

I know what it feels like

to cry yourself to sleep,

to wipe your tears

and pretend you are okay

when inside, you are unraveling.

 

I know what it feels like to feel abandoned,

to wonder why people leave,

why love sometimes feels conditional,

why the ones you needed most

could not hold you

the way you deserved to be held.

 

I was there.

I remember her.

I remember you.

 

I remember your trembling heart,

your silent prayers,

your longing to be loved,

your desperate hope

that someday, somehow,

life would feel softer.

 

I know what it’s like

to feel unwanted,

misunderstood,

forgotten,

to question your worth

because of wounds

you did not deserve.

 

I know what it’s like

to be tired—

not in body,

but in soul.

The kind of tired

that makes carrying tomorrow

feel impossibly heavy.

 

But I want you to know this:

I am here.

 

I am the arms wrapping around you now

when no one else did.

I am the voice telling you

what you always needed to hear:

 

You matter.

You are worthy of love.

You are not too much,

and you were never not enough.

 

I am here now,

and I will not abandon you.

I will sit with your sadness,

hold your trembling heart,

kiss every wound life left behind,

and remind you—again and again—

 

You made it.

Through heartbreak.

Through loneliness.

Through nights you thought would swallow you whole.

You made it.

 

And though I cannot change

what you lived through,

I can love you now.

 

So rest, little one.

You do not have to carry it alone anymore.

 

I am here.

I have always been finding my way back to you.

And this time—

I’m staying.

 

-Amy Cutting

Survival

 

I was never taught how to live,

Only how to survive.

To watch the room before entering,

To measure every word,

To prepare for storms

Even on sunny days.

 

I learned that silence was safer

Than speaking my truth.

I learned that fear could become a home,

And that walking on eggshells

Could feel normal

When it was all I had ever known.

 

My heart raced before danger arrived.

My mind searched for problems

Before they existed.

My body stayed ready to run,

Fight,

Freeze,

Or disappear completely.

 

Survival became my language.

Hypervigilance became my companion.

Anxiety became my shadow.

And exhaustion became the price

Of staying alive emotionally.

 

There were days

I thought I would never escape.

Days when the darkness felt endless.

Days when I confused surviving

With living.

 

But somewhere beneath the fear,

A small voice remained.

A voice that whispered,

"There is more than this."

A voice that refused

To completely disappear.

 

That voice became hope.

Hope became courage.

Courage became action.

And action became freedom.

 

I began to speak.

I began to heal.

I began to understand

That the things I endured

Were not reflections of my worth,

But reflections of what I survived.

 

Today I still carry scars.

Some visible.

Most unseen.

But I no longer carry shame

For the ways I survived.

 

Because survival

Was never weakness.

It was strength

Working overtime.

 

And now,

After years of merely surviving,

I am finally learning

How to live.

 

-Amy Cutting