***TRIGGER WARNING***
Some material in the following text could potentially be triggering. 

A poisonous state, a toxic infiltration into a previously calmed sense of one’s equilibrium.

To be shamed, is to stand diminished in the eyes of your loved ones, extended family, community, and society; the gut-wrenching unbearable icky experiential fog of… how does anyone even begin to describe the experience?

Shame is an experience most of us know, often it may be fleeting, and it could well be something that resides out of our awareness in our subconscious thoughts. But make no mistake about it, it can be life-altering for many. Shame is generally thought to be an emotional response to our having done an unacceptable act, something cowardly, something that is shunned by society, especially the forbidden or taboo. Feeling cast out of the welcoming graces of society, now there is a bit of a description. We learn the rules of acceptable and unacceptable behavior as we grow in family and community.

Shame is an emotionally painful experience that begs for a social or behavioral redo of our expressive deed

When we deviate from those rules, committing obvious transgressions against others, we know it and if we are of sound mind, we feel the pangs, the arrows of pain that go along with offending someone. Shame is an emotionally painful experience that begs for a social or behavioral redo of our expressive deed, and depending on the severity of our unacceptable behavior it can be simply overwhelming to the individual. That is shame; a human condition of society, and a means of keeping general order in a working human social system. It keeps people under control. A different topic for a different story is, there are those who know no shame.

When we are young, in our formative years many of us experience trauma at the hands of our caregivers as well as others. This is not a subject comfortable for many, something that might well bring a voice of condemnation for some to even speak of such things. Examples are a young vulnerable child who is treated poorly, spanked far too often and too severely, neglected, constantly hollered at, brow-beaten, or put simply, made to feel like a worthless rag doll in the eyes of those who are supposed to love them. These children often develop a ‘toxic’ shame along with a sense of guilt. An experience that just by their being present and alive elicits a reaction of deep traumatic distancing and distrust toward the caregiver and family and potentially the entirety of humanity. Cast out of Eden.

I am losing who I am trying desperately to find an escape from your venomous self-righteous rage

Trauma, A child needs love, to be welcomed, to see and feel a sense that she matters and that she belongs to a tribe familial and communal. They need to feel dignity, respect, kindness, compassion, understanding… empathy! They need to feel wanted, needed, nurtured… to be welcomed, that is love. In far too many families, children are taken for granted and are little more than a punching bag to take the abuse and rage, emotional and physical, that a parent has held hidden and pent up for their abuses bestowed upon ‘them’ in their childhood. The sins of the fathers come to visit each generation anew, and mothers. To hit a child, even if you try comforting yourself by calling it spanking, is a potential internalized trauma to the infant or vulnerable growing child, and all children are vulnerable. Plus, it teaches you to hit when you are not satisfied with another’s behavior, and they keep count. Internally the rage is felt within the child and that trauma experienced is more often than not registered as something is wrong “with me.” I’m not being loved, I must be bad or something about me is different otherwise… they would not be hitting me, raging at me, simply showing this venomous fury at me. Why the venom? Please love me is the cry that is longing to come out of so many in our society, underneath the masks, the persona, even and especially those now traumatized survivors as adults. Please stop abusing me emotionally, I am losing who I am trying desperately to find an escape from your venomous self-righteous rage. I am shutting down, tuning out my real self, and becoming what I need to be to survive… your robot. A false self, now robotized to being what you and others find acceptable.

The child doesn’t know shoot-from-shine Ola. Too much raging without an authentic reconnecting with loving strokes and reassurance of being loved, welcomed back into your heart, the child’s story becomes I am bad, something is wrong with me that you can’t love me, and I do not any longer trust you. Because, as I FEEL it, you don’t love me. They begin to take on a sense of having done something bad, no, even worse they become sure they ARE bad. Their very being becomes a condition that exudes toxic shame and guilt. My environment is a toxic poisonous state, and I am ashamed of who I am at my core. I am ashamed to be… me. THAT is TOXIC SHAME. To the core of our very being, we feel the discomfort and deeply troubling pangs and pain of shame; AND THAT is an abomination to humanity and God. Please love me, show me, tell me, again and again and again, forever, and always make me feel welcome. If you can’t authentically love me, why did you make me? Only for your physical gratification and pleasure in the moment? Now that should cause one to pause and feel shame, at the least, awakening to a mission of changing our ways. Realistically, isn’t that just life? Yes, and a part of life is growing, learning lessons, shame “should be” a great teacher. For many, it has become a perpetual living monster.

My journey of coming to terms with the psychological problems that profoundly interfere with a full life is a struggle that I can only hope will lessen in severity over time. With professional treatment and guidance, I am trying. But I did not do this to myself; I am one among millions and millions whose lives have been altered painfully by today’s and yesterday’s societal norms. These norms need to be brought fully out into the light of day and examined under a microscope of modern social science, with compassion and understanding. Spare the rod and spoil the child! Oh, my God, forgive them Father for they know not what they do, think, or say.

My journey in life was a troubled one, and that is a, to say the least type of statement. Toxic shame ate out the core of who I should have been leaving me confused and forever seeking an answer to my problems. Why am I so different from others? What happened to me, and why? It is because I am bad to the bone, isn’t it? Depression, the full gamut of possible indulgences that calms or lessons a burdening, painful chronic anxiety, from drugs to sex to overeating to erratic behaviors, anything, and everything to calm the pain of anxiety and profound sense of detachment from others, feeling cast out. This is what traumas can do to a child. As I wrote above, cast out of Eden with the experience of a detachment from caregivers and EVERYONE. The need, the instinct of a human being is to cling to life, and the other main drive is to be connected with others, someone at least, to BELONG in community and tribe. To feel alienated to the point of severe despair, look around us today; look at the suicides that leave us baffled. Be baffled no more! What I’ve written here is the main crux of many wanting to take one’s own life. Imagine the depth of suffering required to transcend the basic instinct of humankind for self-survival. Think about that.

Triggers. One of my triggers is anger. When someone gets angry at me it leaves me in a state of utter crisis at times. Depression, panic, and that ugly toxic shame invades me like I have, no, like I am some sort of a monster that is nonhuman or something. In my eyes, EVERYONE feels the loathing toward me coming from the individual or group that is mad at me or dislikes me (my projection). My brain short circuits and I become a whimpering bowl of gelatin hiding in the corner. What the hell would cause an adult to ever feel that way? Trauma! Childhood traumatic experiences from a caregiver that left a child psychologically damaged, sometimes irreparably.

Another trigger. Psychoactive drugs of any kind. Let’s use marijuana as an example. I cannot use marijuana. If I do, I become paranoid, and beyond the typical expected hypervigilance from its usage. My unconscious, hidden emotional storehouse of pain from childhood awakens and I FEEL the trauma, the abuse acted upon me IN MY PRESENT MOMENT as if it were again happening in real life, even as the adult that I am now; A C-PTSD flashback experience. Think about that. See what we are capable of doing raising and ‘disciplining’ OUR children? I emphasize our children because when you stop and honestly think about it, they don’t belong to us! We do not own them as a piece of property or a slave. Our children, ourselves, along with all of life, belong to nature, to the universal God. They are entrusted to us to raise them and care for them as nature intended, both our kids and the animal life around us. I assure you that nature did not intend for us to abuse children and shatter their psyche leaving them struggling throughout life with psychic wounds whose scabs tear off every time we are raged at or bullied.

Briefly, trauma can come about at any age, but kids most especially are vulnerable to its effects. Especially if it is chronic, ongoing, and socially shaming at the same time. Bullying, our modern-day focus, and abuse of the day club. As long as there are abused children, there will be bullying. The low self-esteem effect from trauma causes others to lash out and hurt others. It is a downward social comparison. They find the weak ones, the vulnerable to pick on, to hurt with the same rage and vengeance that was done to themselves. Bullies are suffering inside along with their victims. It does indeed take a village to raise a child and a kind one. The extent of the bullying today is a clear sign our village is suffering the untold traumas from our past. Trans-generationally transmitted ‘unresolved traumas’ get passed down across generations. How do you stop bullying? Get the abuser of the bully to stop abusing him. Tell them you love them and show kindness and understanding. Maybe, just maybe one day he or she will start to see that love and stop treating others the way they were treated, abusively. Perhaps now showing respect, dignity, understanding, compassion, empathy, in other words… love. You can’t come to live and understand the concepts of love until you find SELF-LOVE toward your wounded inner child. Far too many of us are damaged by trauma and don’t have the remotest clue of our suffering. Until we awaken to the reality of our inner suffering and dysregulated rage, we will continue the cycle of life’s negative energy upon the world.

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

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Jesse Donahue

**  Copyright notice. All of my writings are copyrighted and registered with the Library of Congress.

My name is Jesse Donahue. In 2015, at the age of 58, I took up writing, and since then I’ve written two novels, poems, and essays about my journey struggling with CPTSD. The essays, 50+, were an adjunct to journaling in therapy to amplify my learning and self-understanding.

My writings, which include therapy notes, poems, novels, and essays, are all a part of my ongoing personal therapy. Many of my essays are in a stream-of-consciousness style, unleashing, sharing, and delving into energies that continuously process in my subconscious. My writings, initially, geared for me and my therapist’s eyes only, began with my exposing my thoughts, fears, and feelings (or the lack of) onto paper… a journal of therapy notes. Then, with fear overcome and via a personal decision of choice, I shared them here with the readers. My essays, most all, originate from my weekly therapy notes. My intent and desire is to encourage readers to recognize traits in themselves and find a therapist if they are willing and able to do so. If you are in therapy, ask your therapist to read them and discuss what pertains to you. For some, it can be a long and difficult process over extensive periods to awaken to the unconscious issues that have us acting out in life. Our behavior can seem like dancing to a buried, invisible energy that we are not able to directly see or confront. It is my sincere hope that my insights will assist the reader in the process toward reaching a deeper self-understanding. Bringing the unconscious out into the light of self-awareness, understanding, and acceptance fosters self-love and the process of change.

My published writings with the CPTSD foundation: *The Hidden Bugaboo. The Beganning. Twelve Days Without Coffee. Learned Helplessness. Cast Out of Eden by Toxic Shame. The Crumbs and The Banquet. What an Outside Appearance may Not Show. Obedience to the Light – Bombs or Love. Stepping Into the Shoes of Who You Are. Personal Honor, Integrity, Dignity, Honesty. Inspirational Tugging – Teachers. Codependency – Overriding the Monster of Self Hate. Surfing the Light Through the Darkness. We are but Storytellers. A Writer’s Brain – The Gift. The Highway of Worries. The Emptiness of Yesterday.