A handful of years ago, just before my divorce and shortly after being diagnosed with PTSD, I found myself sleeping on the couch in our house. Insomnia was my constant companion, so I passed the time watching TV, hoping to distract my restless mind. One night, I ended up glued to a show about plane accidents—a strange choice, considering it was a triggering subject for me. Yet, I couldn’t turn away.

At some point, my soon-to-be ex-wife commented that I probably shouldn’t be watching it, knowing how much it could affect me. What struck me as odd then—and still does now—is that she either didn’t believe in my diagnosis or didn’t fully grasp its reality. Her opinion on the matter no longer holds any weight, but it highlights something crucial: how far I’ve come since then.

People often talk about Post-Traumatic Stress, but what they rarely mention is Post-Traumatic Growth. Post-Traumatic Growth (PTG) refers to the positive psychological changes that can emerge after a crisis or traumatic event. PTG doesn’t deny the deep distress that trauma brings, but it suggests that adversity can lead to profound transformations in how we see ourselves, others, and the world around us.

I became particularly interested in this concept after hearing comedian Neal Brennan discuss it. He said, “Post-Traumatic Growth—this is something that no one seems to talk about. Where you can… get over shit and you are not a sellout… you are not a bitch for not being aggrieved anymore.” His words hit home.

It’s true—some people seem to cling to their trauma stories, telling them over and over, letting them define who they are. I’ve been there. I’ve had relationships that left me deeply scarred. One partner, in particular, made suicide threats and attempts, leaving me in constant fear, stress, and pain. That trauma followed me into future relationships, where even the slightest conflict would trigger memories of past chaos. Though I didn’t often voice these stories, they replayed in my mind daily, becoming a part of my identity—someone broken by trauma.

In many ways, it was easier to stick with that story than to rewrite it. There’s a strange comfort in feeling sorry for yourself, in having something external to blame for your emotional struggles. But eventually, I realized that staying in that mindset wasn’t serving me anymore.

Over time, I grew. I learned more about myself—lessons that I might not have grasped without the trauma. I became better at recognizing warning signs in others, managing the fear that triggered me, and setting boundaries that protected my well-being. I now understand how people can fall into the depths of despair, but I also know that I can handle their pain without feeling responsible for saving them. Life, I’ve discovered, can be happy again.

At some point, retelling my ‘Trauma Story’ no longer served a purpose. Instead of helping me heal, it kept me trapped in a cycle of fear and self-pity. It made me feel broken, and I wondered if I was sharing it just to seek attention or validation.

When I shifted to telling my ‘Growth Story,’ everything changed. It felt empowering—like I had finally moved past the fear. Life was good again, and I had something positive to share. The story was no longer just about pain and recovery; it became about growth. I hated the idea of having Post-Traumatic Stress, but I love the concept of Post-Traumatic Growth.

I believe that choosing which part of the story to focus on can make all the difference in how we continue to live with our experiences. Moving forward, when I share my stories of past struggles, I’ll make sure that my Growth takes center stage.

Do you have stories of Post-Traumatic Growth? I’d love to hear them.