Writer’s Note: About a year ago, I landed in the hospital after four nights of not sleeping for a total of even one hour. I was then placed on a suicide hold. It was the final suicide hold I was put on before I made the decision to take my healing journey into my own hands. What follows is a journal I wrote with pen and paper during my suicide hold.
I wouldn’t inflict the extreme torture of Complex PTSD on anyone. No one deserves to feel like this – perpetually hating, punishing, and castigating myself – all while pretending like nothing is wrong with the rest of society. Even in sleep, there is no solace – the insomnia, night terrors, and sleep paralysis are often worse than my pain during the daytime.
What does Complex PTSD feel like to me?
It is a daily solitary confinement sentence in a shrinking prison cell of my own mind and body. The tiny walls close in on me, and the claustrophobia sets in.
It is daily reruns of excruciatingly painful traumatic flashbacks, unable to exorcise them from my psyche.
It is my family and friends who love me and just want to see me happy. They know my worth, but I can’t see it.
It is seeing the goodness in everyone else but being blind to anything good in me.
It is never forgiving myself and consistently punishing myself while being wracked with constant anger and rage at both everything and nothing at the same time.
It is never having hatred for another human being but hating myself with a fiery, burning passion.
It is not allowing myself to believe I have trauma because, on the outside, I live a blessed life and should have no reason to feel so miserable and afraid.
It is seeing a neurologist because I’m confused as to why my body is experiencing such unusual symptoms, and I need to rule out disease.
It is not knowing who I am anymore and wanting to return to the light I had before it was almost completely blown out.
It is protecting myself in isolation but enduring further anxiety and depression from the isolation.
It is throwing away the clothes that remind me of my trauma because I can’t bear to look at them.
It is looking in the mirror and not being able to recognize myself or believe that I am real.
It is constantly reliving the past, unable to focus on the present or the future.
It is losing the academic ambition and creativity I had growing up and not knowing how to get it back.
It is having involuntary face and body tics while violently yelling things to shake off the flashbacks that are infiltrating my mind.
It is trying every form of treatment without results, only to have even worse side effects.
It is compulsively repenting to God and reciting Bible passages I memorized so I can be forgiven for how awful I am.
It is desperately trying to hold onto the hope that there is a loving God out there, even after the years of spiritual abuse that shook my faith to the core.
It is waiting to die so I can finally be at peace.
It is vomiting randomly because my body can’t take the pain.
It is developing random bruises on my body for no reason other than the extreme stress and hypervigilance I am under.
It is receiving 25 different diagnoses over many years from professionals ignorant about trauma, being degraded, dehumanized, and feeling like a disgrace to society because I am “mentally ill.”
It is putting my trust in medical providers and them taking advantage of my vulnerability.
It is seeking help to understand my symptoms, being laughed at and told, “That’s not normal.”
It is trying so many different medications, nothing working, and experiencing even deeper side effects, like increased suicidal ideation, weight gain, akathisia, and medication-induced psychosis.
It is going out of my way to be kind and loving to everyone I meet, no matter how much torture I am in on the inside.
It is not offering that same kindness to myself.
It is walking down the street and seeing the faces of my past tormentors on strangers’ faces.
It is not being able to say “no” even when I am uncomfortable because I want to please everyone and get their approval.
It is being terrified of everyone and everything and feeling inferior, even to the water bottle sitting on my desk.
It is experiencing constant panic attacks at random times, even in public.
It is being drawn to abusive personalities because I think that’s the way I deserve to be treated.
It is turning my camera off during Zoom meetings so my coworkers don’t notice that I’m dissociating or experiencing trauma responses.
It is experiencing sleep paralysis that is so painful I’m terrified to go back to sleep.
It is setting 15-minute alarms when I sleep to wake me up from the night terrors, taking a few minutes to catch my breath, and then setting another 15-minute alarm for the next set of night terrors.
It is being raped by demons in my sleep, slammed against the walls of my apartment by evil entities, and being given CPR by four police officers, feeling all this physically but not being able to distinguish reality from fiction.
It is experiencing narcolepsy, falling asleep involuntarily in the middle of my daily tasks.
It is believing that those who relentlessly criticized, controlled, mocked, and hated me were right about me. It is seeking their approval and working to “fix” the things about me that anger them so much.
It is internalizing others’ negative emotions about me and making them my own.
It is hating hearing my own name being said out loud.
It is walking into a room where people are laughing, and I think that they’re laughing at me.
It is masking my pain so well that people are shocked to learn the depth of my suffering.
It is regularly typing things into search engines like, “What is the percentage success rate of jumping in front of a train?”
It is wishing someone would just stab me in the side so the blood would be visible, and I could be taken away to heal the wounds that I have no idea how to heal.
It is not allowing myself to pursue the hobbies I enjoy that allow me a moment of freedom and peace.
It is being terrified of social situations.
It is thinking that everything is my fault and blaming myself for everything, even when I am the victim.
It is forcing myself to get out of bed when I just can’t.
It stops me when I laugh or smile and prevents me from experiencing it because I don’t think I deserve it.
It is throwing away my TVs and not allowing myself to listen to music because I feel guilty experiencing joy.
It is believing that the top three most evil human beings to ever exist were Hitler, Stalin, and me.
It is believing every compliment is given with an ulterior motive.
It is being angry at myself because my brain and body are stuck at a younger age in their survival mechanisms from when I was first targeted.
It is wishing that someone – anyone – would empathize with the level of pain I’m in.
It is trying desperately to explain it to them, but not being able to put it into words.
It is constantly dissociating in the middle of conversations or work, not understanding why I can’t focus.
It is believing that people are out to get me, that I’m constantly being watched, analyzed, and criticized.
It is wanting to live in hiding and isolation so that no one notices my flaws or even thinks about me.
It is physically and emotionally punishing myself with self-harm.
There’s so much more I could say, but there really is no other way to describe the pain of Complex PTSD besides absolute psychological torture. I really want to believe that the symptoms I am experiencing are not problems that are wrong with me but a result of what happened to me, but it has been difficult to find someone who can help me and understand me. I think it is time I take this into my own hands.
I have fought so hard for so long, and I’m lucky to be still alive and fighting. It’s so difficult to heal from this, but I’m making the decision now to begin trusting in my innate ability to heal myself, no matter how long it takes or how painful it is. Healing is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I refuse to believe the lies that it isn’t possible to heal from complex trauma symptoms. I was told I would have to manage these symptoms for the rest of my life, but I will 100% heal from this. I will never land in the hospital again. I refuse to give up and let the pain overtake me.
I’m not weak. I can do this. I’ve spent years bending over backwards to offer forgiveness, love, and kindness to others regardless of the extreme torture I was in on the inside. I have so much love to give to everyone except for myself. There’s no reason why I can’t give that to myself. There is no reason I can’t overcome this. Everyone else is walking free and living their lives. Why shouldn’t I be able to do the same? I will never again allow another human being or institution to have control over my life, my thoughts, my belief systems, or who I am. No one but me knows and understands my full story.
I am going to figure this out. There will be a day when life will be easier. I will live with peace, joy, and freedom without even trying. It will be effortless. I will find my confidence again. I will rekindle the light I had. It’s what every human being deserves, and that includes me. I have to first believe this myself – that I am worthy, that I am capable, that I deserve to exist. Then, I will share how I did it with others. I will encourage them to believe the same things about themselves.
You were always good enough, Natalie. It was all lies. Keep fighting.
My name is Natalie, and I am a survivor of about 13 years of absolute psychological torture from Complex PTSD symptoms that manifested as crippling anxiety, depression, obsessive compulsive symptoms (in the form of religious and moral scrupulously), extreme dissociative symptoms, insomnia, sleep paralysis, night terrors, and narcolepsy. For the longest time, I thought I was inherently “messed up” and broken beyond repair. I spent about a decade running around in circles in the medical system trying to figure out what was “wrong” with me and how to “fix” it, managing all this while attending school and holding full-time jobs. I thought the way I felt in my body was “normal” because I had no sense of what the other side was.
♡ What is Complex PTSD? ♡
Complex PTSD symptoms come from severe, prolonged, and numerous incidents of trauma, typically of a relational nature. Symptoms can come from any type of trauma, though, and the trauma doesn’t necessarily have to stem from childhood — adults can develop CPTSD as well. Humans are social creatures, so the things that happen to us really can affect our nervous system, and the body reacts accordingly. The types of trauma that cause CPTSD can affect the brain long term and shrink the size of the hippocampus, causing many of the symptoms of CPTSD. I decided to go public with my story to be a voice for the voiceless. I believe everyone has the power to tell their story if they wish, and it is up to them if, when, and how they choose to do so. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I kept quiet about mine. There are too many survivors being told CPTSD is a lifelong sentence, and they are not being given the tools they need to overcome their symptoms.
♡ My Story ♡
In general, I endured multiple types of traumas throughout my formative years, including numerous situations of both individual and large-group interpersonal cruelty, some of which caused me to have to switch environments. Due to what I was going through, my body couldn’t fathom what was happening, and my nervous system shut down. I felt guilty for simply existing. I saw danger everywhere, operated in a panicked survival mode, and lived in fear, anxiety, and isolation. I did my best to appear “normal” on the outside, keep a smile on my face, and control what was happening on the inside, distracting myself with extreme workaholism and doing nice things for others. I took active steps to keep branching out in confidence again, but these traumas kept piling onto each other and overlapping, so I couldn’t fathom what was going on. I wasn’t ready to give up yet, though, because I knew my family and friends would be distraught if I did.
The most difficult and heartbreaking part of my story is that the two communities I set out to seek healing in — religion and the medical system itself — caused further trauma when some religious leaders, congregation members, and medical professionals chose to take advantage of my vulnerability for their own motives. In most of these situations, I didn’t even realize I was a victim until outsiders pointed it out for me and that my vulnerability made me a target of malicious people. Each future situation of being targeted was just salt on the wound of the original incident.
As an empath, I absorbed the negative emotions of others as if they were my own, and I did not know how to release them from my body. In my solo healing process, I had to quite literally disappear from everyone and everything to protect my vulnerability and allow myself to process what I had been through during my formative years using my own mind and body without the persuasion or invasion of others.
♡ My Struggles to Find Answers ♡
What I went through all those years was so severe, and my symptoms and physical body reactions as a result were so excruciating that I went as far as to see a neurologist, concerned that my symptoms were the result of some sort of nervous system disorder. However, he returned with no paperwork in his hands to inform me that there was nothing wrong with me but that I was simply completely traumatized, and my body reacted accordingly. I finally realized that my symptoms were not the result of an inherent mental or physical illness and began to take a trauma-based approach to my healing after many years of believing that I was “sick” for the rest of my life. My true progress began when I finally rejected the lies that were told to me that I would have to “manage my symptoms” for the rest of my life and made the decision to believe that I was fully capable of healing from my excruciating pain, even if others did not believe in me. I still do have tough days and moments, but I have gotten to a place where I am consistently living a quality of life that provides peace and comfort in my mind and body since I have given myself the tools to overcome my tough moments when they return.
Many CPTSD survivors receive numerous diagnoses before ever hearing anything about complex trauma, and some are overmedicated to try and “fix” their symptoms, usually to no avail and with further side effects. I was told I would need to “manage my symptoms” and be on medication for the rest of my life. It was all lies. Today, I am on zero medications (including sleep medications) and am completely divorced from the disease management system.
♡ Finding My Own Healing ♡
I am excited to share many tips for natural, somatic, and holistic healing that have helped me overcome my complex trauma symptoms like extreme dissociation, excruciatingly painful flashbacks, severe sleep challenges, anxiety, hypervigilance, worthlessness, and more. I began to pursue unique methods of healing after many years of not seeing much progress through westernized care, and this was the catalyst for fast-tracking my healing. I have so many exciting tips to share related to grounding, nervous system regulation, somatic healing, and more to offer survivors other ways they can learn to regulate their nervous systems on their own without spending any money. I aim to help survivors overcome their feelings of self-guilt, blame, and humiliation and help them realize that their bodies had normal reactions to abnormal situations.
I am on a journey of rediscovering who I am at my core after letting so many other people infiltrate my mind for far too long. The five most important things to me in my life (in order of importance!) are: my health, my happiness, my family, my friends, and my creativity. My parents, my sisters, and my friends are my absolute rock and biggest cheerleaders. They were cheering me on all those years, fully believing that I was capable of overcoming my excruciating pain, even when I did not believe so myself. While I was repeatedly able to forgive others and extend the olive branch, I was never able to forgive myself. My loved ones kept telling me that there is nothing I need to feel humiliated about and that I should be able to see what everyone else sees in me. I have finally given that kindness to myself and have started to see what other people saw in me all along. I am so glad I didn’t give up when my pain felt unbearable.
I know what I’ve survived. I know the work I’ve put in to overcome it. I know that I still chose to keep a smile on my face and be kind in the face of it all. In reality, it’s because I didn’t want another person to go through even one ounce of the suffering I was in. I am finally living a life of consistent peace and contentment, and I am sharing my story from the other side. My story is not a story of defeat but a story of victory.
♡ Embracing My Life of Freedom ♡
I have enjoyed embracing the free spirit I always was and adopting a simpler life to focus on the things that are meaningful to me. I am still healing every day. I believe our healing is a lifelong process. I made the decision to escape my version of the rat race (big city life) and move to my happy place. I am catching up on many hours of much-needed rest and spending lots of time outdoors. I am reconnecting with the people I lost while I was in isolation. I invited the passion that saved my life growing up—dance—back into my life. I am passionate about fighting for other survivors in any way I can.
I hope that by sharing my story, I can convince other survivors that there was never anything wrong with them to begin with and that they are capable of living healthy, happy, and fulfilled lives. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did not become a voice for the voiceless and share how I overcame it. I aim to live my life in love of both others and myself, understanding that everyone has a story of their own. I am grateful to the CPTSD Foundation for giving me an opportunity to share my story.
“My story isn’t sweet and harmonious like invented stories. It tastes of folly and bewilderment. Of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.” ~ Hermann Hesse
Hi Natalie Rose, Your words once again are so powerful. Thank you for sharing your experience. To know that you kept fighting to feel better inspires me to do the same. I have been tired and pretty much depleted lately. Healing (emotionally and physically) from complex trauma and all that it brings with it is exhausting.
Right now, today – the last day of 2024 – I’m focusing on doing things that nourish me. I hope I can eventually have peace in my body and mind. When I was a little kid I, too, was a free spirit. My spirit got crushed through the years, but I want to reclaim it. I want to feel like ME again. Thanks for sharing your story and showing your readers that healing is possible.
Hi Ann!
It’s wonderful to see you again. I hope you had a happy holiday season and a restful New Year’s Eve, even though I know the distress you’re feeling likely feels unbearable at times.
I’m so glad to hear that you’re taking time for yourself to regulate your nervous system and rekindle the spark you had in childhood. It takes strength to not let your past experiences hold you back but to instead choose to overcome them. When you feel isolated at times, remember that there are others like you who are also working to overcome their symptoms, so you don’t have to feel alone. I truly believe you can do this!
Wishing you peace, safety, and prosperity in the new year. Keep fighting! ♡
Thank you for sharing Natalie and I am so sad to hear how much you suffered at the hands of others and how that is now perpetuated by the struggle to not show yourself the kindness, compassion, forgiveness, and love that you have shown others. Many of the things you wrote I unfortunately can easily empathize with. One program that I found very helpful was a week that I spent at Onsite trauma workshops located in Tennessee. I highly recommend it and it helped me in so many ways and place me on a viable path of recovery.
Hi David,
Thank you for taking the time to leave a comment and letting me know that my story resonated with you. Cultivating self-compassion after experiencing trauma can be very challenging, so it’s inspiring to hear that you have worked hard to develop compassion for yourself. I’m glad the workshops in Tennessee were beneficial for you. I hope you continue to find helpful resources on your journey. Stay strong, and I wish you all the best in the new year!
Your words had resonated with me after days of stuffing down my feelings in order to get by, appear normal at work and escape the pain. Masking never got me anywhere but it’s a solid coping mechanism I had developed growing up when no one nurtured me emotionally or showed interest for who I truly was. My very identity has been altered and stunted and yet there was always a part of me I knew and recognized deep down inside, the part I could only experience in privacy as a child, that starved tendril of my self. As a new year’s resolution I want to engage with my recovery more consistently and i want to allow myself to explore and experience my pleasure and joy.
Thank you for calling out Cptsd for what it is: extreme torture of the mind, body and soul.
Hi Ellie,
I’m so sorry to hear about the pain and suffering you’re going through right now. For many years, “fake it ’til you make it” was my motto as I concealed what I was truly feeling inside. It’s not easy to pretend that everything is okay when it isn’t.
I’m glad that some of my experiences resonated with you and inspired you to take active steps toward caring for yourself and finding small moments of peace and joy. You are fully capable of experiencing these moments. I’m sending positive energy your way and wishing you all the best in the new year and beyond!
Wow, Natalie! This is the first time I’ve heard another survivor describe a similar experience with neurologic manifestations of CPTSD. My neurologist was very dismissive & implied it was “all in my head”. It was very disheartening to find how Western medicine–even the specialists–denies the mind-body connection. I learned about functional neurologic disorder from my psychiatrist & after truly doing the work of trauma recovery, these awful debilitating neurologic symptoms resolved. So sorry to hear you suffered something similar & thankful that you are finding healing on your journey. Happy New Year to us!
Hi Camille!
I’m intrigued to hear that we had a similar experience in seeking out a neurologist for help with our symptoms. I also have not yet met another survivor that did that! So, I appreciate your comment. It really speaks to how desperate we were for help.
Same thing here – my neurologist played a crucial role in helping me recognize the need for a trauma-based approach to my healing, but beyond his initial tests, he couldn’t provide much support. As I began looking for trauma-informed professionals within the mental health system, I sadly learned that many who advertise themselves as trauma-informed are often the opposite. I spent another couple of years taking backward steps instead of moving forward. It’s baffling how many “experts” and specialists are so misinformed about trauma, leading to harmful care for their patients. My progress happened exponentially this past year when I made the decision to face my demons on my own, listen to my intuition, and teach myself to regulate my nervous system. These symptoms were really nothing that any specialist or medication could “fix.”
To seek out a neurologist for your symptoms must mean that you underwent some horrific experiences, and I’m truly sorry for what you’ve been through. However, it sounds like your symptoms have resolved and that you are now living peacefully. And, yes, Happy New Year! I wish you the absolute best in 2025. Keep staying strong! ♡
Hi Natalie, thank you so much for sharing your story. I’m so sorry that you have had to endure such horrific experiences on your life. Your strength and resilience is astounding. That is true human achievement of the highest caliber. I truly hope that you are feeling good and hopeful and at peace on your life.
I have been searching desperately to find anything at all that could help me see a way forward in my situation. I have experienced multiple traumas and horrific abuse in a relatively short period of time. These experiences have threatened my life as I can’t see a way out of them and the round the clock torture (that you described) is unbearable. I resonate with all that you wrote. All of it. Knowing that you have emerged in a good way gives me hope tonight. I don’t know where to start but I know that it’s possible to heal because you have. That’s a starting point…because I truly didn’t know if it was humanly possible. Thank you.
Hi Steve,
Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m really feeling great these days. As I mentioned, I still have work to do and am laser-focused on my continued progress. It feels like the last lap of a marathon! If I had to estimate, I would say about 90% of my symptoms have been resolved, which is significant progress, considering I only started taking control of my situation a little under a year ago.
I’m truly sorry to hear that you are in so much pain from what you went through in a short amount of time. It saddens me that you can relate to all the things I wrote. I deeply understand what you’re feeling at this very moment. I want to encourage you that it absolutely *can* and *will* get better. Unfortunately, though, it does require effort. I suggest you start with baby steps in your healing journey. Initially, my baby steps included things like: 1) spending 5 minutes in the sunshine each day, 2) cutting out caffeine to improve my sleep, 3) practicing meditation and breathing exercises with five-minute meditation videos on YouTube, etc. I had to practically force myself to do these things at first. Now, a year later, these things are effortless for me, have become a part of my daily routine, and my body is capable of so much more at this point!
I’m currently in the process of creating a personal blog where I will share more specific healing tips that helped me a bunch. I plan to link it to my CPTSD Foundation author bio once it’s ready, so keep an eye on my posts for updates. Maybe it’s something you’d be interested in following along on.
Even though I don’t know you in real life, I could feel your pain through your words, and I want to encourage you that there is hope on the other side of this battle. It is entirely possible to get there! Please keep pushing forward and don’t give up on your fight. I hope to see you on my future posts!
Thank you for sharing your powerful journey, Natalie. Your strength and determination are truly inspiring. It takes immense courage to confront and heal from such deep pain, and your commitment to reclaiming your life so moves me. Remember, you are not alone on this path to healing. Wishing you all the best as you continue to find peace, joy, and self-love. Keep fighting!”
Thank you for your very sweet and kind comment, Stephen!!