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The Invisible Isolation of Trauma Healing: When "I Forgive You" Isn't Enough

  • Writer: lisakinglpc1
    lisakinglpc1
  • Nov 6
  • 3 min read

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Trauma healing is often portrayed as a linear journey—a clear path from woundedness to wholeness. But the reality is far more complex, especially when the people who hurt us are still a part of our lives, or still exhibit the very behaviors that caused the pain in the first place.


This is where the true isolation of healing sets in. You’ve done the hard work. You’ve processed the pain, acknowledged the wound, and maybe even had the difficult conversations. You may have even received an apology. Yet, when you witness that person’s continued lack of self-awareness or growth, it feels like an anchor being dropped into your progress, and the wound re-opens.


The Scar Tissue that Still Aches


We often learn to let go of the expectation that people will change for us. We tell ourselves, "I can allow them to be who they are." This is a crucial step for peace. But accepting someone’s behavior doesn't mean it ceases to impact you.


Think of a physical scar. The wound has technically healed; there’s a protective layer of scar tissue over it. But that doesn't mean the area is invincible. Sometimes, a simple bump or touch can send a flash of pain, a visceral reminder of the injury underneath.

Similarly, in trauma healing, that "scar tissue" of emotional growth can still ache when rubbed raw by the familiar, hurtful behavior of those who wounded us. The issue isn't a lack of forgiveness on your part; it's the continued, active presence of the source of the pain.


Understanding Our Own Limitations


This is the deeply personal and often isolating truth of trauma recovery: we have limitations.


We cannot assume that because we’ve grown stronger, we are immune to the environments or people that once broke us. For survivors of chronic or complex trauma (CPTSD), continued exposure to triggering behavior doesn't just hurt emotionally—it can physically dysregulate the nervous system.


Our body, which spent so long in a state of fight, flight, or freeze, registers the old pattern as a current threat. That familiar environment or dynamic is a direct line back to that state of hyper-arousal or dissociation. Your nervous system is screaming a truth your heart might want to ignore: This is not safe for me.


Boundaries as Self-Preservation, Not Punishment


This is the moment we must turn to boundaries.

Boundaries are not walls built to keep people out; they are structures built to protect the precious, fragile healing happening within you. They are not about loving someone less; they are about loving yourself more.


Setting a boundary is an honest recognition of your own limitations. It's the moment you stop waiting for the other person to change and take responsibility for your own well-being. This might mean:


Limiting time spent together.


Avoiding specific topics that invite the old, toxic dynamic.


Stepping away from the relationship entirely.


This self-preservation can feel incredibly lonely. Your loved ones, who don't share your history or your dysregulated nervous system, may not understand why you're not "over it" yet, or why you need to distance yourself. They don't see the internal struggle or the quiet labor of regulating your own peace.


But your recovery is not about making sense to others; it’s about making peace with yourself.


The Courage to Build a New Village


The hardest part of this realization is often facing the need to create a new support system. It doesn't mean you don't love the people who hurt you, or that you haven't forgiven them—it simply means they cannot safely be the people you need them to be in this phase of your life.


You have the right to be around people who are consistent, safe, and respectful of your healing journey. You have the right to protect your peace. Choosing to step away from a source of repeated wounding is not a failure; it is an act of courageous, clear-eyed self-love.


Your healing is the priority. Be kind to the scar tissue that still aches, and build your life in a way that allows it the space to finally settle and strengthen.


©Lisa King, MS, LPC

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