Surviving the Shadows of October: The Courage of Trauma Survivors

YOU SURVIVED OCTOBER: A Letter to Fellow Survivors

October is over. If you're reading this and you made it through, I want you to know something: You are brave. You are courageous. You survived.
For those who don't understand, October isn't just a month of changing leaves and pumpkin lattes. For survivors of satanic ritual abuse and mind control, October can feel like walking back into hell. The triggers are everywhere—the imagery, the celebrations of darkness disguised as harmless fun, the dates that hold significance in ways most people will never comprehend. The internal programming that activates. The body that remembers even when the mind tries to forget.

This October was one of the hardest I've experienced in a long time. The last several weeks nearly broke me. I want to be honest with you about how hard the last half of October was for me. Then when I thought the worst was over, a sister's birthday and the anniversary of my mother's death loomed larger than life this year for some reason. There were days I didn't know if I could keep going. Days when the weight of the trauma felt so crushing that just breathing seemed like too much to ask. Then memories came in waves—relentless, disorienting, pulling me back into places I've fought so hard to leave behind.

The dissociation was profound. I felt like I was pushing against a resistance that I haven't felt for awhile. Some days I felt like I was watching my life through thick glass, unable to fully be present, unable to feel safe in my own skin. My system was going through another night of the soul, but what felt like having a break down actually was in reality breakthrough. Parts of me processed awful past experiences that were manageable, although the internal conflict was tiring. I was thankful that I didn't go into crisis. Parts that were still held in darkness came forward and even though I questioned whether things would get better and I wondered if my suffering had any meaning at all, what helped me was to remember that in the past I questioned those same things and things did get better. But here's what I needed to remember—and what I need you to remember too:

Your suffering matters. My suffering matters. Our survival matters.

The Horrific Effects of Trauma During October

Let me speak plainly about what many of us experience during this month, because I think it's important to name it: The body keeps the score. Even if your conscious mind doesn't remember specific dates or events, your body does. Your nervous system does. You might experience:

• Inexplicable panic attacks or anxiety that seems to come from nowhere

• Increased dissociation or losing time more frequently

• Nightmares that are more vivid and disturbing than usual

• Physical pain or illness without medical explanation

• Overwhelming fatigue—the kind where even getting out of bed feels impossible

• Heightened startle response and hypervigilance

• Internal system chaos if you're a survivor with DID/OSDD

• Intense suicidal ideation or self-harm urges

• Feeling like you're "going crazy" or losing your grip on reality
  

Programming activates. For those of us who experienced mind control and programming, October can trigger:

• Compulsions you can't explain

• Internal commands or voices becoming louder

• Feeling pulled toward destructive behaviors

• Loyalty conflicts and guilt for "betraying" your abusers by surviving and healing

• Feeling like you're being watched or that "they" will find you

• Body memories and physical sensations tied to specific rituals or abuse
  

The world may not understand. While others are celebrating Halloween and enjoying the season, you're fighting for your life in ways that are invisible. You can't explain to most people why you can't go to the costume party, why you avoid certain stores, why you're barely functioning. The isolation intensifies the pain.

You Are Worth the Fight

Even though there are times when the fight it takes to get through hard seasons feels unbearable, I want to assure you—and remind myself—of this truth: You matter. You are worth the fight it takes to survive. Your life has value that extends far beyond what was done to you. You are not defined by the abuse you endured. You are not less worthy of life, love, peace, and healing because of what you survived. The fact that you're still here, still breathing, still fighting—even when you're not sure you want to—is extraordinary. I know it doesn't always feel that way. I know there are days when survival feels like a curse rather than a victory. I know the exhaustion of waking up and realizing you have to face another day, fight another battle, carry this weight one more mile. But you're doing it. And that takes a kind of courage most people will never have to summon.

Things Did Get Better Before—They Can Again

Here's what gives me hope, even in the darkness: Things got better before. I've been in this dark place before—more times than I can count. There have been other Octobers, other anniversary dates, other seasons where I was convinced I wouldn't make it through. But I did. Somehow, I survived. And not only did I survive, but the intensity eventually lessened. The sun came out again. I found moments of peace, even joy. That doesn't mean the trauma disappeared or that the healing journey became easy. It didn't and it's not. There are setbacks and hard seasons and months like October that knock us to our knees. But if I made it through before, if things got better before, then there's reason to believe they can get better again. And the same is true for you. You've survived 100% of your worst days so far. Think about that. Every single time you thought you couldn't go on, you did. Every time the darkness felt like it would swallow you whole, you found a way through—or the light found you. That pattern matters. Your resilience matters.

Hope Isn't Toxic Positivity

I want to be clear: I'm not offering you toxic positivity or dismissing the very real pain you're in. I'm not saying "just think positive" or "it could be worse" or any of that garbage that minimizes trauma. What I'm offering is this: Hope grounded in experience. Hope that acknowledges the pain but refuses to let it be the only truth. Yes, October was brutal. Yes, the trauma is real and the effects are devastating. Yes, there are days when survival feels like too much to ask. And also: You are brave. You are fighting. You are worth fighting for. Things have gotten better before. Your suffering is not meaningless. You matter. Both things can be true at the same time.

To Every Survivor Reading This

If you survived October—even barely—I'm proud of you. If you're still here reading this despite the programming that told you not to survive, you are an act of rebellion. If you made it through this month by the skin of your teeth, crawling, dissociated, barely holding on—you still made it through. That counts. That matters. You matter. The fight it takes to survive hard seasons is exhausting, and I won't pretend otherwise. But you are worth that fight. Your life has meaning beyond the trauma. Your survival is not in vain. I needed to tell myself that this October. Maybe you need to hear it too. November is here. October is behind us. That doesn't mean the triggers disappear overnight or that healing suddenly becomes easy. But it does mean we made it through another hard season. And if we can do it once, we can do it again.

For me, I'm holding onto this truth: My suffering matters. Things will get better. I have survived hard times before, and that gives me hope that I will have the desire to live again. I'm choosing to believe that the dark times don't last forever, even when they feel eternal. I'm choosing to remember that I am more than what was done to me. I'm choosing to fight for the life I deserve, even on days when I'm not sure I want it. And I'm inviting you to choose that too—not because it's easy, but because you're worth it. You survived October. That took extraordinary courage. Don't let anyone—including yourself—diminish that victory. You are brave. You are a survivor. You matter. And I'm glad you're still here.

You don't have to fight alone. You are not alone in this.

Written by Sharri Burggraaf an overcomer who will keep overcoming. October 2025.