Being a dad with CPTSD feels like starring in your own personal three-ring circus, except, of course, it’s not just a circus. It’s a high-stakes act with no safety net, and the crowd is loud and relentless. And when your daughter is soon to be 16? Well, now the lion’s escaped, chasing the lioness, while the elephant side-eyes you, throwing in some guilt for good measure, just to keep things interesting.
Balancing fatherhood with CPTSD is like life already throwing curveballs, then, bam! Here comes the teenage storm, mood swings and challenges that level up the chaos. It’s next-level circus mayhem.
Teenagers. One minute, you’re bonding over fries, and the next, you’re the villain for simply asking how her day went. It’s a constant juggling act between being a supportive, patient parent and not completely drowning in the emotional rollercoaster that comes with both your own struggles and the ones they’re navigating.
It’s exhausting.
Showing My Daughter How to Handle Big Feelings
But here’s what I’m learning: healing isn’t just something I do for myself. It’s something I do with her in mind. When I take a moment before reacting, when I say, “I’m feeling overwhelmed,” instead of bottling it all up until I snap, I’m showing her how to handle big feelings. I’m modeling emotional resilience, even if I’m doing it in sweatpants with half a bagel in hand.
She may not always show it (those AirPods are practically glued to her ears), but trust me, she’s paying attention. Teens have a sixth sense for emotions. And while I don’t share my trauma scrapbook with her, I do let her see that I’ve been through some stuff. Some days are tough. And being open about that doesn’t make me less of a dad; it makes me more human.
And yeah, I mess up. Regularly. I’ll snap, and I will misread the mood. I’ll forget that sarcasm isn’t the best response to a meltdown over math. But I always circle back. I apologize. I explain. I’ll try to do better next time. That’s not weakness; that’s trust-building in action.
How My Past Shapes My Parenting Choices
Then there are those little moments that make it all worth it: when she laughs at one of my terrible jokes or when we share a meal and she actually talks, really talks. When she surprises me with her insight, compassion, or goofiness. Those moments? They’re everything. They remind me that we’re not just surviving this; we’re building something real.
I’ve been lucky with my daughter. I can’t say I ever went through the “terrible twos” with her. Sure, she had her moments, but she wasn’t a difficult child. So far, she hasn’t been a terrible teenager, either. It’s still early days, but for the most part, she’s been pretty low-maintenance.
However, I’ve come to realize that some of the parenting choices I made were directly influenced by my own childhood experiences. I was probably too protective of her between the ages of 5 and 9, the same years when my abuse occurred. During that time, I struggled deeply, haunted by flashbacks and triggers. I couldn’t understand how anyone could harm a child so young, and I felt an intense need to shield her from all the bad in the world
Facing My Trauma to Be a Better Dad
But no matter what, you still have to hold it together enough to parent. I remember more than one occasion when my daughter was small, and I had to make sure she was safe before removing myself from the situation to break down and let my dysregulated emotions out. Through it all, though, I’ve remained focused on her, ensuring she’s always been and still is my number one priority.
The most valuable lesson I’ve learned since my CPTSD diagnosis is that I couldn’t outrun my trauma, no matter how hard I tried. Instead, I had to confront it, acknowledging the pain and understanding that healing takes time. The best decision I made as a parent was to seek help and start therapy. Facing my trauma was the most important thing I could do for my daughter, and in doing so, it has allowed us both to have a father-daughter relationship that I cherish.
Parenting and Healing: It’s All Part of the Journey
I will continue to raise my daughter with my own self-awareness, which, in turn, helps her adapt to the struggles she will face in life. At the end of the day, I’m doing the best I can, and I can only hope that I’m the father for her that I never had, and that I’ll continue to make her proud.
So to the other moms and dads out here doing the tightrope act, balancing healing, parenting, and trying not to lose your mind in the cereal aisle, I see you. You’re not alone. You’re doing something incredibly hard and incredibly important.
Take the win when it comes. Celebrate the small stuff. Apologize when you need to. And don’t forget to laugh, even if it’s just at how wildly unqualified we all feel some days.
We are all doing better than we think.
Photo by Sandra Seitamaa on Unsplash
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Jack Brody, born and raised in Boston and now a NYC implant where he has resided for the last 30 years. Proud father to a teenage daughter. Child abuse survivor who was diagnosed with CPTSD 6 years ago. A mens mental health advocate, he hopes to share his journey, so it can inspire and give hope to others out there and let them know they are not alone.
Wow, what another great article to share about such an important topic. I, like you, was recently diagnosed with CPTSD in 2016 and went through years of hell, and now again, after the tragic death of our grandson.
Ironically, my husband is a Vietnam Combat Veteran and I was a Wildland firefighter for over 30 years, retiring soon after my diagnosis. All 4 children are now adults, three are first responders and one an Afghanistan Combat veteran so being tough and pulling up your bootstraps has been our family lineage – until now.
I now show up with every bit of my authenticity and vulnerability with my kids, showing them that not hiding our deepest emotions is indeed the epitome of true courage and bravery. It has not been easy but hopefully, much like yourself, it helps pave a better and more authentic future for my kids and grandkids.
Thank you again, I always appreciate your articles.
Thank you, Bequi
You’ve lived through, and with, so much. The way you’re now modeling emotional honesty for your kids and grandkids is beautiful and, frankly, world-changing.
I’m so sorry for the loss of your grandson. Grief on top of trauma can feel like being asked to carry a mountain after you’ve already crossed a desert. But you’re still showing up, with your heart open, and that’s everything.
Sending deep respect and warmth your way.
Hi Jack-
Thanks for your article. I’ve been on a healing journey with C-PTSD for the past four years. I appreciate you sharing that at times your emotions can get the best of you with your kids. As I look back over the years I can see many times when I let my emotions get the best of me and to this day I struggle with guilt about my shortcomings but each time I have tried to circle back with my kids and apologize. I think you are right, it lets your kids know you are human.
Hi Chad-
Thank you so much for reading and for taking the time to share this. Four years into the healing journey is no small thing, that takes strength, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.
I really get what you’re saying about the guilt. It can stick around, even when we know better now. But the fact that you’ve made the effort to circle back with your kids, that’s huge. That kind of repair work is something many of us never got growing up. It’s one of the most human and loving things a parent can do.
It’s reassuring to know I’m not alone in this messily beautiful work of healing. I’m really grateful you shared this with me.