The Purple Phoenix Collective

I created a Facebook group chat for more serious conversations around trauma. ⚠️ Trigger Warning: This space may include discussion of trauma, abuse, and difficult experiences. This is a space for those who feel ready to go deeper—sharing, processing, and being witnessed in a more direct way. Please be mindful, respectful, and aware of your own capacity before engaging. You are always allowed to step back. Your safety comes first. https://m.me/ch/AbYbAxMysbHkQ1E5/?send_source=cm:copy_invite_link

What archetypes are overactivated or suppressed in you? I’ve been diving into the work of Carl Jung and doing some real shadow work lately. Not the pretty kind—the honest kind. Looking at who I actually am vs. who I’ve been comfortable being. I’m starting to notice which archetypes I live in… and which ones I’ve buried. Quick breakdown: Innocent (hopeful), Seeker (searching), Sage (wisdom), Everyman (belonging), Lover (connection), Jester (play), Hero (courage), Outlaw (rebel), Magician (transformation), Caregiver (nurturing), Ruler (control), Creator (expression), Mother/Father (guidance), Child (vulnerability), Trickster (disruption), Warrior (boundaries), Orphan (grief), Mystic (spirituality). If I’m being real… Overactivated: Caregiver, Mystic, Creator, Lover, Seeker → I feel deeply, give a lot, search for meaning, and try to create connection out of everything Suppressed: Ruler, Warrior, Outlaw, Jester → structure, boundaries, power, play… harder for me → I soften too much, overgive, stay in depth instead of stepping into authority or lightness And then there’s the Shadow—anger, control, selfishness, instinct. The parts I was taught weren’t acceptable… but are actually necessary. I’m realizing this isn’t about becoming one archetype. It’s about integrating all of them. Becoming whole. So I’m curious— Which archetypes feel strongest in you? And which ones are hiding in your shadow? 👇

“I can create safety, piece by piece” 🪺🕊️

Free support circle for trauma survivors Sat April 4 @ 7 pm EST: There are parts of you that learned to stay hidden. Not because they’re bad— but because it wasn’t safe to be fully seen. Your anger. Your needs. Your intensity. Your voice. Those parts don’t disappear. They go underground… and start showing up as triggers, patterns, and reactions you don’t always understand. This circle is a space to turn toward those parts. Not to judge or fix them— but to meet them. Through guided discussion, we’ll explore questions like: – What part of you did you learn was “too much”? – What triggers you—and what might it be pointing to? – What do you judge in others that you might carry too? – What would it feel like to stop fighting yourself? This isn’t about becoming better. It’s about becoming whole. Come as you are. ☯️ https://us06web.zoom.us/j/5546111406?omn=89521248230

I love nature metaphors. Today I’m contemplating the waterfall. Trauma can feel like standing under a powerful waterfall that never shuts off. It’s loud. It’s constant. It hits you so hard you can’t think straight, can’t breathe, can’t orient. And after a while, your body just… adapts. You tense up. You brace. You live like that pressure is normal. Even when the waterfall isn’t there anymore, your nervous system still thinks it is. So you either avoid anything that feels like “too much”… or you keep putting yourself back under it, trying to prove you can handle it this time. Healing, for me, hasn’t been about forcing myself to stand in the intensity. It’s been about stepping out of it. Learning what calm actually feels like. Letting my body realize it’s not under attack anymore. Letting emotions move through me like water instead of crashing down all at once. You don’t have to live under the waterfall forever. You can step to the side. Sit by the water. Feel it without it drowning you. And slowly, your body starts to believe you’re safe again.

Trauma can make you go inward. At some point, it was safer to be in your head than in the world. So you built something internal—rich, deep, imaginative. You learned how to self-soothe, analyze, escape, survive. And there’s nothing wrong with that. That inner world probably saved you. But over time, it can become a cave. You start living more inside your thoughts than in your actual life. You isolate. You overthink instead of reaching out. You convince yourself you’re fine handling everything alone. And slowly… you disappear a little. Stepping out of the cave doesn’t have to be dramatic. It’s small, uncomfortable, real-world actions: Text someone you’ve been thinking about but haven’t reached out to. Tell someone you trust, directly, “I could use some support right now.” Let yourself be seen, even just a little. Say yes to something instead of automatically withdrawing. Spend time around people without performing—just exist. You don’t have to abandon your inner world. Just don’t let it be the only place you live.

Bought some binoculars. Following through on a New Year’s resolution. Birdwatching and being out in nature used to be very important to me, but they got associated with trauma. I’m going to start reconnecting with the natural world in small doses with my partner, and try to make new memories.

I know what it’s like to literally walk through flames. And rise from the ashes. I have lost everything in two house fires. The last one left me homeless for months. It was only eight days after the fire that I found out my sister Leah had lost her battle with addiction. It’s not true that God only gives us what we can handle. Some kinds of pain can swallow you whole. That’s when I died and was reborn as Wavy Purple. Indestructible, wise, strong, creative, spirituality aware, emotionally connected, my authentic self. My forest had to burn down before something more beautiful could grow ☯️

Something I’ve been realizing lately: My shadow isn’t just the “dark” parts of me. It’s the parts I had to ignore to survive. It’s the instinctual, primal part of me that doesn’t ask for much… so I forget it’s even there. Until I don’t. Until it shows up in ways I can’t ignore—burnout, disconnection, impulsive decisions, that quiet feeling of “something is off.” It’s my anger too. The kind that protects me. The kind I’ve softened, rationalized, or pushed down because I care about people and don’t want to hurt anyone. But anger isn’t the problem. Ignoring it is. It’s also my “too muchness.” The intensity, the depth, the way I feel everything and want real, meaningful connection. At some point that felt like a liability, so part of me learned to shrink, to second-guess, to pull back after showing up fully. And then there’s the part of me that doesn’t even want to heal sometimes. The part that’s tired. That craves chaos because it’s familiar. That doesn’t fully trust safety yet. That part exists too. None of this makes me broken. It makes me human. I’m starting to see my shadow less as something to fix and more as something I need to actually pay attention to. Feed. Listen to. Work with instead of against. Because the truth is—your shadow doesn’t go away just because you ignore it. It just waits. And it will find a way to be seen. The question is whether you meet it with awareness… or let it run the show from behind the scenes. 🖤

Some versions of you saved your life. You can honor them… without staying trapped inside them.