Reflection & Prayer Prompts

For Those Affected by PTSD

Important Note

If you have PTSD, please use these prompts gently. Do not use reflection or prayer as a substitute for professional treatment. These prompts are not designed to process your trauma—they're designed to help you bring your experience to God and to hope.

If any of these prompts feel overwhelming or triggering, stop. You don't have to do this alone. Consider working with a therapist and perhaps revisiting spiritual reflection later in your healing journey.

If you are a loved one supporting someone with PTSD, these prompts are designed to help you process your own experience and seek God's strength for the road ahead.

For Loved Ones: Personal Reflection Questions

These questions are for spouses, family members, and close friends of someone with PTSD.

1. What has it been like to love someone with PTSD? Allow yourself to name the hard parts—the exhaustion, the loneliness, the confusion, the grief for the person they used to be. You're allowed to feel these things.

2. Where have you been carrying weight that isn't yours to carry? Have you been trying to fix them, prevent their triggers, or be their therapist? What would it look like to step back into a supportive role rather than a savior role?

3. What do you need that you haven't been asking for? Your needs didn't disappear because theirs are loud. What would refuel you? What support would help you keep going?

4. What boundaries might you need to set—not to punish, but to protect? Are there limits you need to establish for your own health? What would loving them AND loving yourself look like?

5. What hope do you have for them? For your relationship? Even in the hard, is there something you're holding onto? What does hope look like right now?

6. Where do you need God's help most? Patience? Strength? Wisdom? Healing for yourself? Name it honestly.

For Loved Ones: Guided Prayer Language

A Prayer for Those Who Love Someone with PTSD

God, this is hard. Loving someone who is suffering this way is harder than I expected. Some days I don't know what to say or do. Some days I feel invisible or shut out. Some days I'm exhausted and frustrated and I feel guilty for feeling that way.

Help me love well without losing myself. Help me support without trying to fix. Help me be present without carrying what isn't mine to carry.

Give them healing. Real healing—the kind that comes from specialized help that I cannot provide. Lead them to the professionals and the treatment that can actually help their brain recover.

Give me patience for the hard days. Give me wisdom to know when to press in and when to step back. Give me grace—for them and for myself.

And help me remember that my well-being matters too. Not instead of theirs, but alongside it. Show me how to take care of myself so I can keep showing up.

Amen.

A Prayer of Lament

God, this isn't how it was supposed to be. Something happened that shouldn't have happened, and now we're all living with the aftermath. They're struggling in ways they can't control. I'm struggling in ways I didn't anticipate.

I don't understand why this happened. I'm not sure I ever will. But I know you see us—both of us—in the middle of this.

Be with them in the flashbacks, the nightmares, the hypervigilance. Be their safety when everything feels unsafe.

And be with me in the loneliness, the exhaustion, the grief. Don't let this break us.

I believe healing is possible. Help my unbelief.

Amen.

A Prayer for Strength to Keep Going

Lord, I'm tired. Some days I wonder how long I can do this. I love them, but loving someone through this takes more than I have on my own.

Fill me back up. Give me your strength when mine runs out. Show me where I can rest, where I can find people who understand, where I can be refueled.

Help me remember that taking care of myself isn't abandoning them. Help me set the boundaries I need without guilt. Help me stay present without disappearing.

I can't heal them. I can't be their therapist. But I can be here. Help me do that well.

Amen.

For Those with PTSD: Gentle Reflection Questions

If you have PTSD, please approach these questions gently. You don't have to answer all of them. You don't have to answer any of them today. These are not therapy exercises—they're simply invitations to bring whatever you're carrying into God's presence.

Stop if anything feels overwhelming. Return to these when you're ready, preferably with professional support in place.

1. What has it been like to live with this? Not the details of the trauma—just the experience of living with its effects. The exhaustion, the fear, the numbness, the isolation. You can name it without reliving it.

2. What do you wish people understood about what you're going through? What do you need from the people around you that you haven't asked for or haven't received?

3. What does safety feel like to you? Is there a person, a place, a situation where you feel even a little bit safe? What makes it feel that way?

4. What hope, if any, do you have for healing? It's okay if the answer is "not much." God can handle your honest doubt. But is there any flicker of hope that things might get better?

5. What do you need from God right now? Not what you think you should need—what you actually need. Comfort? Presence? Answers? Permission to be angry? Protection? Name it.

For Those with PTSD: Gentle Prayer Language

A Prayer for When You Feel Broken

God, I feel broken. Something happened that I couldn't stop, and now I'm living with the pieces. I can't make my brain work the way it's supposed to. I can't stop the memories, the fear, the numbness.

I need you to meet me here—not in the person I wish I was, but in the person I actually am right now. The triggered one. The exhausted one. The one who doesn't know how to get better.

I'm told that healing is possible. I don't always believe it. But I'm asking you to show me the way. Lead me to the help I need. Protect me while I find it. Don't let me stay stuck forever.

Be my safety when nothing feels safe.

Amen.

A Prayer for Courage to Get Help

God, I know I need help. Real help—the kind I can't give myself. But it's hard to ask for it. It's hard to admit I can't fix this on my own.

Give me courage to take the next step. Help me find a therapist who understands trauma. Help me trust the process even when it feels scary.

And remind me that getting help isn't weakness—it's wisdom. It's what you want for me. You didn't design me to carry this alone.

I don't want to be stuck here forever. Help me find my way out.

Amen.

A Prayer for the Bad Days

God, today is a bad day. The memories are loud. The fear is heavy. I'm tired of fighting my own brain.

I don't need answers right now. I just need you to be here. Sit with me in this. Let me feel your presence even when I can't feel anything else.

Tomorrow might be better. Today I'm just trying to survive. That's okay, right? Just getting through the day counts.

Help me get through the day.

Amen.

Optional Journaling Prompts

For loved ones:

• Write about what you've lost since PTSD entered your relationship. What do you grieve?
• Describe a moment when you felt helpless. What did you learn about yourself in that moment?
• If you could say anything to your loved one without worrying about their response, what would you say?

For those with PTSD (approach gently):

• Describe a moment when you felt even a little bit safe. What made it feel that way?
• Write a letter to yourself from before the trauma. What would you want that person to know?
• If healing were possible, what would your life look like? What would be different?

A Final Word

Whether you have PTSD or love someone who does, please hear this: you are not alone. This is hard. It's supposed to be hard. You're not failing because it's difficult.

Healing is possible. It takes time. It takes professional help. It takes community. It takes grace—for yourself and for others.

God sees you in this. He's not distant from your suffering. He's not disappointed in your struggle. He's present with you, even when you can't feel it.

One step at a time. One day at a time. That's enough.