After more than a decade of searching for answers within the traditional medical model, I found myself with more questions than when I started. Eventually, I realized that understanding Complex PTSD (CPTSD) and its intricacies required insights from those who truly understand it: the survivors of complex trauma themselves.

Despite entering the mental health system over ten years ago, I didn’t learn about “complex trauma” or “Complex PTSD” until about three years ago. At 18, I received a PTSD diagnosis from a psychiatrist, five years after my prolonged trauma during high school had begun. This diagnosis came amid a confusing mix of various other diagnoses from different providers over the years, which further obscured an effective healing plan. Even when I worked with multiple providers who intended to collaborate, they often disagreed about my “mental illness” and the best approach to “fix” it. With all these conflicting and dehumanizing labels, I felt like a hopeless outcast in a society of “normal” people. Being burdened with nearly every possible diagnosis in the DSM resulted in a bewildering array of treatments for my “mental illness,” none of which actually addressed my root issue: trauma. There was never a need to complicate anything about it.

For years, I underwent tests, treatments, and psych meds in an attempt to alleviate my symptoms. Many times, the side effects from these treatments – especially the psych meds – were worse than the “condition” these providers were trying to cure. Unfortunately, it took me years to realize that psych medications were never the solution for my trauma-related struggles.

During most of my time in the mental health system, my mind felt very foggy. I was a disoriented, dissociated, and overmedicated young girl trying to navigate the challenges of my teenage years and young adulthood, which already come with their own drama. My experiences with misdiagnosis and overmedication will be the subject of extensive writing in the future, but for now, I’m providing context regarding the journey I’ve embarked to find answers. I have been subjected to nearly every possible treatment, all promising me peace and all ultimately failing me.

Putting the world on pause

Something had to change, and I realized that I had to spearhead that change. I embarked on a quest to understand the complexities of CPTSD. Inspired by Thoreau’s Walden, I put everything in my life on pause, moved to the countryside, and spent time in solitude. With this refreshed mindset, I immersed myself in the research and data surrounding CPTSD.

Moving to the countryside and eliminating stress naturally alleviated many of my symptoms. I had more time on my hands than I had ever had before. I focused on simple approaches to caring for my health, such as improving my nutrition, making lifestyle adjustments, exercising, and practicing breathwork and meditation. With this solid foundation in place, I felt ready to fully dedicate myself to unraveling the mystery of CPTSD while keeping my self-care as my top priority.

Stepping out into the world again

I bravely stepped out to do things I never thought I would do. Things that terrified me. I wanted to do these things, though, believing that they might bring me closer to understanding CPTSD, both for myself and for other survivors. Stepping out of my comfort zone greatly boosted my confidence. I became a guest contributor for the Complex PTSD Foundation, which gave me a voice after years of feeling unheard.

Being vulnerable in writing about my experiences has been incredibly liberating. While my pen flies, the rest of the world fades away. I allow myself to feel my emotions and let the seeds in my mind blossom into a beautiful garden on paper. I don’t have any professional writing experience beyond my school education, and I had never considered myself a “writer” before. When I write about my experiences, my thoughts can extend to about 8,000 words on just one topic – far beyond the suggested word count! This is all part of the healing process for me. I enjoy revisiting my writing, making it concise, and preparing it to present publicly. I don’t worry too much about achieving perfection; I believe that other survivors just want to hear a voice that is relatable and authentic. By the feedback I receive on my writings, I’ve come to realize that many CPTSD survivors are suffering in silence. I see that my words have offered them comfort and encouragement, letting them know that healing is possible.

Both online and in person, I’ve connected with survivor communities and engaged in one-on-one conversations with some truly extraordinary people. I have also started volunteering with local PTSD-related organizations to broaden my understanding of trauma and empathize with others whose experiences differ from mine, yet who have shared similar feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, and despair.

Through this journey, I’ve learned so much about my fellow survivors and continue to discover more daily. 

 

What I’ve learned about complex trauma survivors

What I’ve learned about us is that we never give up. Despite the limited and often misleading information available, we go to great lengths to find answers that help us understand why our minds, bodies, and psyches endure so much pain and how we can find relief. Unfortunately, we often find no real guidance, leaving us feeling like outsiders in this world, as if we are the only ones carrying this level of suffering.

What I’ve learned about us is that our pain can be so excruciating that we sometimes feel the only way to escape it is to end our lives. Yet somehow, we continue to hold on by a thin thread, refusing to give up hope in our search for answers.

What I’ve learned about us is that even a brief 10-second break from our suffering – just one moment of peace – can feel like a taste of heaven. However, these moments are so unfamiliar to us that when we experience them, we often feel uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and terrified. As a result, we quickly revert back to our comfort zone of constant anguish. This isn’t our fault; it is simply what we have known for far too long. 

What I’ve learned about us is that many of us entered the mental health system with good intentions and a desperate need for help, only to encounter further trauma from the very professionals who promised to protect us.

What I’ve learned about us is that many people around us – both within the medical system and outside of the system – often misunderstand our experiences due to ignorance and lack of awareness about trauma. As a result, they tend to label us as troubled, crazy, mentally ill, or disturbed, without taking the time to listen to our struggles beyond their preconceived judgments. This lack of understanding often leads us to isolate ourselves even further.

What I’ve learned about us is that many of us have always felt like we never belonged in society. We see ourselves as black sheep, lost in the crowd, never truly fitting in. This feeling stems from our uniqueness; we were never meant to conform to the masses.

What I’ve learned about us is that we look beyond the superficial aspects of life. We prioritize self-actualization and care deeply about the experiences and suffering of those around us. This profound introspection often overshadows our interest in the trivialities that others get caught up in, which is another reason we struggle to fit in. 

What I’ve learned about us is that we are detail-oriented. We notice the small things in life – the beauty of a rainbow after a storm, a lone dandelion in a vast field, or a gentle breeze brushing against our cheeks, remining us of the freedom we once had before encountering the harsh realities of the world. 

What I’ve learned about us is that we often carry a deep sense of self-guilt, viewing ourselves as some of the most despicable people on the planet. In truth, we possess some of the purest hearts, and there was never a reason to feel guilty in the first place; we were always doing our best with the knowledge we had at the time. 

What I’ve learned about us is that we believe we’re “not normal,” but it is actually those who have harmed us who are abnormal.

What I’ve learned about us is that, regardless of how we were treated, we choose not to repeat that cycle of abuse. We don’t seek revenge for what has been done to us. Instead, we heal our pain privately and face our experiences with love and kindness when interacting with the world.

What I’ve learned about us is that we go about our daily lives – working, raising children, and managing the stressors of everyday life – while masking intense pain and pretending that nothing is wrong. We care more about the people around us than we do about ourselves. Out of this deep compassion, we neglect self-care in order to take care of others.

What I’ve learned about us is that we’re incredibly strong. In fact, the word “strong” doesn’t even begin to capture our resilience. We are impenetrable fortresses built from the mightiest oak.

As of today, I am nearing the end of my quest to understand my own suffering after more than a decade of seeking external solutions. I now live a peaceful and content life in my happy place. I have resolved most of what my body held onto for so long and am focused on rebuilding my confidence and creating the life I’ve always dreamed of.

Over the past year, I have dedicated myself entirely to healing – an endeavor that, unfortunately, has not resulted in financial compensation, but whose results are worth more than any amount of money in the entire world. I am excited to continue writing about my experiences, hoping that sharing them will help other survivors. 

If my words resonate with you, keep on fighting. I see you. I hear you. I believe you, and I believe you will conquer. If you keep working to rediscover who you are at your core and reject the lies from your past, you will achieve your beautiful dream of freedom and a peaceful life.


To my readers who have been following my journey: I am excited to share that I have created a personal blog called “Little Cabin Life.” This blog chronicles my healing journey, where I share my experiences and the things I am doing to support my recovery. You’ll also find tips that have been helpful to me along the way. If you’re interested in following my story, please feel free to visit www.littlecabinlife.com.

Cover Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

 

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