Journal Prompts for When You’re Disconnected (And Don’t Know Where You Went)

 

Journal Prompts for When You’re Disconnected (And Don’t Know Where You Went)

You don’t always notice when it’s happening. You just start to feel off. Not tired like you need a nap. Tired like nothing’s clicking. Your body’s not with you. Food feels weird. Everything feels too loud or too far away. You stop doing what helps and start tolerating what doesn’t. That’s usually the sign. You’ve started leaving yourself again.

These prompts aren’t meant to fix that. They’re here to meet you in it. For the in-between. For when you’re not fully gone, but not fully here either.

1. How do I start to disappear without even realizing it?

This isn’t always about checking out completely. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes you’re smiling, working, replying to texts, and you’re already gone. This is where you name the signs before they get loud.

Affirmation: I’m allowed to notice what I need, before it gets loud.

2. Where do I keep losing myself and pretending it’s normal?

You know the places. The people. The settings where you shrink or go silent or disconnect on autopilot. This is where you stop pretending it’s fine just because it’s familiar.

Affirmation: I don’t have to stay where I keep going missing.

3. If I chose myself today, what would I do differently, even a little?

Not in theory. Not long-term. Just today. One small thing. A pause. A boundary. A different tone. A better meal. Something that puts you back in your own corner, even briefly.

Affirmation: I don’t have to earn staying with myself.

4. When I feel gone, what actually brings me back, not ideally but honestly?

Forget the ideal version. What’s real? What helps? Water? Music? Movement? Silence? You’ve come back before. Name the thing that works, not the thing that sounds good.

Affirmation: Coming back doesn’t have to be dramatic. Just honest.

Hope it lands where it’s needed.

-Maria

Recognizing the Hidden Effects of Abandonment Trauma

 When you have been abandoned emotionally, physically, or both, it leaves marks that are not always visible at first.

You might not have called it abandonment.

 You might have simply known this:

 The love, safety, and care you needed were not there.

 And somewhere deep inside, that absence shaped the way you learned to survive.

Here are some early signs you might be carrying abandonment wounds, even if you did not realize it until now:

• You fear people leaving you, even when they have not given a reason.
• You shrink yourself to be easy or less needy.
• You struggle to trust that someone's love or care is real.
• You feel you have to earn your place in people's lives.
• You feel deep shame when you make a mistake.
• You either attach quickly or pull away before someone can hurt you.
• You have trouble asking for help or emotional support.
• You often feel like an outsider, even around people you know.
• You overwork, over-give, or over-perform to prove your worth.
• You fear being a burden, so you try to handle everything alone.

I have personally identified with every one of these signs at different points throughout most of my life.  You are not alone if you see yourself here. These patterns are not a reflection of who you are. They are the echoes of what you have been through.

Sometimes, the deeper wound underneath it all is this:

Not trusting others because, deep down, you do not fully trust that you are worthy of being loved in the first place.

 When you have been abandoned, it is easy to believe that love is something you have to earn, and almost impossible to believe it could just be given freely, without conditions.

If you recognize yourself in any of these signs, you are not broken, and you are not alone.

The truth is, abandonment wounds run deep.

They shape the way we see ourselves, the way we move through the world, and the way we connect with others.

 Understanding where these patterns come from is a powerful first step. You did not cause the wounds. But you get to decide what happens now.

You learned to survive what hurt you.  Now you are learning to survive what healing asks of you too.

This part is messy.

 It is supposed to be.

 Keep going.

You are already doing the hardest part, seeing it.

-Maria

This is where it began

The wound might look different for each of us, but the ache of abandonment has a way of echoing through everything.

My abandonment wound didn’t come from one moment.
It came from growing up without the people who were supposed to be there.

I had a place to stay, but it never felt like there was space for me.
The adults around me were wrapped up in their own stress, their own lives.
I wasn’t seen. I wasn’t nurtured. I was just… there.
Something to manage. Something to get through.

Not because they were cruel, but because they were overwhelmed.

And when you grow up in that kind of environment, you learn to take up less space.
You stop asking for things.
You start to believe that needing love or attention makes you a burden.

But even as a kid, I understood I was alone. And that kind of loneliness changes you.

It follows you.
It stays in your body, in your relationships, in the way you brace for someone to leave before they even do.
It teaches you not to expect much. It convinces you that you’re the problem.

You end up carrying it for years, believing you’re unworthy, unlovable, defective, or just too hard to care for.
You stop trusting anyone with the real you.
Not because you don’t want closeness, but because deep down, you’re still waiting for them to disappear too.

That’s where mine started.

But abandonment doesn’t always come from the same place.
It can come from a parent who was there but cold.
A partner who slowly stopped trying.
A family that expected you to smile and stay quiet instead of needing anything real.
It can come from being ignored until you stopped reaching out altogether.

Abandonment wounds are real. They don’t just go away.
They show up in how you protect yourself.
In how hard it is to ask for help.
In the way love feels complicated or unsafe.

You might see it in the way you:
• Apologize for needing anything
• Stay in situations that leave you empty
• Overthink every silence
• Feel safer alone, but still hope someone will stay
• Try to act like you don’t care, when deep down, you really do

If any of this sounds familiar, I want you to know:
You’re not the only one who felt forgotten.
You’re not too much.
You’re not a burden.
And none of this was your fault.

You’re allowed to:
• Be angry about what you didn’t get
• Stop trying to earn love
• Want softness, care, and consistency
• Show up as you are
• Heal without explaining every part of your story

Affirmation to hold:
I am not hard to love.
I don’t have to prove I’m worth keeping.
I deserve care, affection, and support.
The pain I carry matters. And I’m allowed to heal.

This is where mine began.
But wherever yours started, you’re welcome here too.
You don’t have to carry it alone.

Some wounds don’t go away just because we grow up. But healing is still possible. That’s where I am now.

-Maria