Bless you, Stacey Patton. My salty-tear-burned eyes just happened to catch the title of your post, and I just kept reading to the end because I couldn't not. Thank you for posting this when you did, for it's as if God Herself was giving me the salve I needed in the moment I needed it. I can breathe again. Bless your double space-loving self. 💜🙏
I don't remember the last time I read a list of advice that is actually really, really good. Now I can say it was June 25, 2025: my late grandma's birthday. She died when I was 7, and remembering her before cancer is remembering when it was safe to be soft. Thank you, Stacey, truly. Healing from PTSD is a real lifelong project, and so worthwhile.
This was not the day to read this. Feeling shocked, recognized and validated is just setting me up for a big long bout of ugly crying, and I am OUT of Kleenex. I think I'll cry while I hide from the parental unit in the post-gardening marathon shower.
I'm going to re read this often in the coming days.
It's like a puzzle piece that sets up filling in a bunch of other pieces.
I see all of you who resonate with these words, and I send you all my softness, because I wear my heart on my sleeve and always have,. ( It collects bruises there, sure but it also collects a lot of love, so there is that.) I have softness to spare.
You don’t have to toss the armor. Just take the softness I give and unwrap it in a place and time in which you feel safe to do so. Pat it all over, and pad your shield with it. It should aid in the hard times. It’s my gift to each of you. I promise I have plenty to share- look! Mine’s grown back again already. Take it with love and care.
Oh my. I read this following a significant session with my therapist. Thank you a million times. From the small soft place in my heart, thank you Dr. Patton, thank you.
This article hit close to home. My friend Jesse once described me as, "a wrecking ball with a soft marshmallow center." So I guess the softness is still in there somewhere, but I don't usually reserve any of that for myself.
Words of wisdom, Dr. P. I know it took tremendous strength and character to overcome what life handed you at a tender age; may everyone who needs it listen to your advice. Self care is the best care.
One of your ways of being gentle with ourselves struck a bit of a recognition on my part. Several months ago I noticed that when I had an itch, or my eyes were burning from allergies, I would practically ATTACK the itch, and rub my poor eye lids ridiculously hard,almost as though I were punishing myself. Once I noticed what I was doing I resolved to be gentle with myself. It was remarkable to me how very difficult it was at first to remember there was no need to treat myself harshly. Now I am in the habit of gently rubbing/smoothing the irritant, and don't have to hurt myself at all. It's a good lesson. Thanks for the other tidbits as well.
It's almost has I was reading about myself. every detail. I read your text while feeding my boy. It was one of the rare occasions when I wasn't just sitting there, clenching my teeth, worries running through my mind. Unconsciously, I always go back to wondering… what if?
The thoughts I've been having lately are darker than ever. The world is cruel, and life didn’t wait to slap me in the face. I had to be strong young. Too young.
Of course I feel the need for him to be strong, too! But it’s not fair of me to ask. He’s only three months old.
I’ve never let my guard down completely, but recently something happened… I started talking to a counselor. I didn’t want to, of course, but the nurse said it would be good for me. “It’s worth it,” she said.
She was right.
The truth is, I want to be soft. I want to be emotionally mature. I want to be gentle with myself, so that one day, he learns to do the same.
Lately, it seems like the things I need just fall into my lap. My son. The nurse. This text.
It’s almost as if life is trying to apologize to me... I feel lucky.
It’s hard to let go when it’s all you’ve ever known.
thank you SO much for this...I actually miss the softness in myself, but sometimes I am just unable to find a space where I can access it...I went through a long period where I couldn't even cry anymore...it was like I was frozen inside...I knew I was carrying tons of grief and pain inside but I didn't have a single place where I felt safe or warm enough to release the tears...in order to cry and release emotions, you need to feel a certain safety and warmth where you are...and I simply couldn't find that for a long time. When I was finally able to cry again it was like a blessing...I felt my humanity returning. I hope we can create more spaces in this world where we can simply BE...be ourselves, be soft...be human. Beautifully human.
Once, I thought my mama was soft because she is a giver. Once, I was strong - in the way I thought "strong" was - a taker, who would never take anything. Then I went to Jesus. He made me into the me that is soft in the way that is gentle, peaceful, merciful, full of grace and love and hope... the me He gave me is a me that prays every woman will find the truth about herself, the truth only Jesus can truly inspire or explain. Thankful to be saved and thankful for the softness that Jesus stirred in my spirit when He blessed me with His Holy Spirit.
Bless you, Stacey Patton. My salty-tear-burned eyes just happened to catch the title of your post, and I just kept reading to the end because I couldn't not. Thank you for posting this when you did, for it's as if God Herself was giving me the salve I needed in the moment I needed it. I can breathe again. Bless your double space-loving self. 💜🙏
I don't remember the last time I read a list of advice that is actually really, really good. Now I can say it was June 25, 2025: my late grandma's birthday. She died when I was 7, and remembering her before cancer is remembering when it was safe to be soft. Thank you, Stacey, truly. Healing from PTSD is a real lifelong project, and so worthwhile.
This was not the day to read this. Feeling shocked, recognized and validated is just setting me up for a big long bout of ugly crying, and I am OUT of Kleenex. I think I'll cry while I hide from the parental unit in the post-gardening marathon shower.
I'm going to re read this often in the coming days.
It's like a puzzle piece that sets up filling in a bunch of other pieces.
Thank you.
I see all of you who resonate with these words, and I send you all my softness, because I wear my heart on my sleeve and always have,. ( It collects bruises there, sure but it also collects a lot of love, so there is that.) I have softness to spare.
You don’t have to toss the armor. Just take the softness I give and unwrap it in a place and time in which you feel safe to do so. Pat it all over, and pad your shield with it. It should aid in the hard times. It’s my gift to each of you. I promise I have plenty to share- look! Mine’s grown back again already. Take it with love and care.
I see you. I love you.
Oh my. I read this following a significant session with my therapist. Thank you a million times. From the small soft place in my heart, thank you Dr. Patton, thank you.
This explains so much to me. Thank you for sharing your clarity with us.
...As I minister to you/ I minister to myself/ Life can hurt you so/ 'Til you feel there's nothing left...
This article hit close to home. My friend Jesse once described me as, "a wrecking ball with a soft marshmallow center." So I guess the softness is still in there somewhere, but I don't usually reserve any of that for myself.
Words of wisdom, Dr. P. I know it took tremendous strength and character to overcome what life handed you at a tender age; may everyone who needs it listen to your advice. Self care is the best care.
"We slap labels on trauma and call it identity." Feeling very exposed. Printing this one for the work ahead. Thank you!
One of your ways of being gentle with ourselves struck a bit of a recognition on my part. Several months ago I noticed that when I had an itch, or my eyes were burning from allergies, I would practically ATTACK the itch, and rub my poor eye lids ridiculously hard,almost as though I were punishing myself. Once I noticed what I was doing I resolved to be gentle with myself. It was remarkable to me how very difficult it was at first to remember there was no need to treat myself harshly. Now I am in the habit of gently rubbing/smoothing the irritant, and don't have to hurt myself at all. It's a good lesson. Thanks for the other tidbits as well.
I feel inspired. Calm.
It's almost has I was reading about myself. every detail. I read your text while feeding my boy. It was one of the rare occasions when I wasn't just sitting there, clenching my teeth, worries running through my mind. Unconsciously, I always go back to wondering… what if?
The thoughts I've been having lately are darker than ever. The world is cruel, and life didn’t wait to slap me in the face. I had to be strong young. Too young.
Of course I feel the need for him to be strong, too! But it’s not fair of me to ask. He’s only three months old.
I’ve never let my guard down completely, but recently something happened… I started talking to a counselor. I didn’t want to, of course, but the nurse said it would be good for me. “It’s worth it,” she said.
She was right.
The truth is, I want to be soft. I want to be emotionally mature. I want to be gentle with myself, so that one day, he learns to do the same.
Lately, it seems like the things I need just fall into my lap. My son. The nurse. This text.
It’s almost as if life is trying to apologize to me... I feel lucky.
It’s hard to let go when it’s all you’ve ever known.
Thank you, Dr. Patton.
thank you SO much for this...I actually miss the softness in myself, but sometimes I am just unable to find a space where I can access it...I went through a long period where I couldn't even cry anymore...it was like I was frozen inside...I knew I was carrying tons of grief and pain inside but I didn't have a single place where I felt safe or warm enough to release the tears...in order to cry and release emotions, you need to feel a certain safety and warmth where you are...and I simply couldn't find that for a long time. When I was finally able to cry again it was like a blessing...I felt my humanity returning. I hope we can create more spaces in this world where we can simply BE...be ourselves, be soft...be human. Beautifully human.
Once, I thought my mama was soft because she is a giver. Once, I was strong - in the way I thought "strong" was - a taker, who would never take anything. Then I went to Jesus. He made me into the me that is soft in the way that is gentle, peaceful, merciful, full of grace and love and hope... the me He gave me is a me that prays every woman will find the truth about herself, the truth only Jesus can truly inspire or explain. Thankful to be saved and thankful for the softness that Jesus stirred in my spirit when He blessed me with His Holy Spirit.
Thank you for this much needed post.