He too knew the darkness, intimately; instinctively, we spoke one another’s language, like siblings do. Yet there was also a darkness in his disparagement of the objectively good place that, against the odds of the ACE score, had become my reality, a darkness that would expand and soon permeate every aspect of our togetherness. 

In the aftermath of this relationship, I learned more about BPD and its overlaps with CPTSD. I concluded that while I had traits of the former, my symptoms overall added up to the latter.

Since cutting off contact with my family of origin a decade ago, my life had grown and healed in ways I never dared hope for, which is indicative of the context-dependent activation of triggers that is characteristic of CPTSD but not BPD (Martin 2026). Nonetheless, the point raised by my ex-partner – who would you be had it not been for your horrendous childhood – touched a nerve and remains difficult to explore. Partly, this is due to the fact that since day one of my professional life, I had aimed to perform and succeed ‘as if’ – as if everything was, and had always been, hunky-dory. The achievements that ensued from that mindset, and from working as if my life depended on it (which, on reflection, it did, as I was unable to maintain a relationship, and relying on my family of origin was not an option), meant that over the years, I would increasingly find myself in rarefied settings, rubbing shoulders with the super-rich. 

At home with the homeless

I had arrived, it would seem, I had made it, at least professionally. But there is a paradox to flourishing as a survivor of childhood abuse. Mingling with highly accomplished and confident people can seem like a betrayal to an inner child who is certain that this is not where we belong. On a social continuum that extends from homeless junkies via those crippled by personality disorders and suffering from CPTSD to those whose emotional and financial affairs are in marvelous shape, is our tribe not that of Gabor Maté’s hungry ghosts?

Pitiful, revolting, filthy, broken addicts whose stench and existential hopelessness are but a stomach-churning testament to the severity of the crimes committed against their younger selves, a deafening silent scream the world cannot ignore, however hard it tries. No, their wordless reproach goes, I am not okay, and neither were the things that happened when I was a child, nor is the fact that nobody cared to ask questions, let alone intervene. Now look away already, you know you want to.

According to my inner child, it is with these people, like with my BPD ex, with whom I will always share an instinctive, kin-like belonging. In contrast, interacting with emotionally healthy, high-functioning, and immaculately groomed folks while nibbling unpronounceable foods at swanky dos involves painstakingly learning a whole new language.

This, foreign to me, idiom is the shibboleth to social and emotional mobility of dizzying proportions, a leap into the world of generations of professional triumph and familial stability. My blending into these circles is the ultimate ‘as if’, an overcoming of childhood adversity so enormous that my inner child feels invisible, more so as the language barrier works both ways: these graceful sophisticates are protected from many of life’s trials through not just their wealth but by many-layered, strong personal bonds and professional networks, and the permanent severing of family ties is not just a delicate and ugly taboo subject but indeed, beyond comprehension and unfathomable.

Connectedness is everything, and so is family. This is a healthy sphere, seemingly with no concept, let alone first-hand knowledge, of the darkness. Of course, my fitting in here is only skin-deep, and my healing only partial. My private life remains non-existent, a vacuum so obvious that it too is a silent scream, telling the untellable story, making sure the inner child does not go ignored. 

The best revenge

And then I kept investing in my recovery. I am incredibly grateful to be alive at a time when I could stumble across the transformative works of Bessel van der Kolk and Richard Schwartz, among others. Eventually, my private life too began to heal, but only after I made a deal with my inner child, telling her that while my life will more and more look ‘as if’, the past will never be denied or forgotten. And that the best revenge is a life well lived.

Alice Segell is a pseudonym. The author is a wife, researcher, writer and survivor.

References:

Martin, Mozelle (2026), ‘When Dysregulation is not what First Appears: Differentiating BPD, CPTSD with Attachment Dysregulation, Trauma-Bonded Anxious Attachment, Chronic Pain Identity, and Long-Term Instability’, https://cptsdfoundation.org/2026/03/24/when-dysregulation-is-not-what-first-appears-differentiating-bpd-cptsd-with-attachment-dysregulation-trauma-bonded-anxious-attachment-chronic-pain-identity-and-long-term-instability/.

Maté, Gabor (2009), In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, Close Encounters with Addiction, Random House Canada.

Schwartz, Richard C. (2023), Introduction to Internal Family Systems: A Revolutionary Therapy for Wholeness & Healing, Vermilion.

van der Kolk, Bessel (2014), The Body Keeps the Score, Brain, Mind and Body in the Healing of Trauma, Penguin.

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Guest Post Disclaimer: This guest post is for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing shared here, across CPTSDfoundation.org, any CPTSD Foundation website, our associated communities, or our Social Media accounts, is intended to substitute for or supersede the professional advice and direction of your medical or mental health providers. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the guest author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the CPTSD Foundation. For further details, please review the following: Terms of Service, Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer

This is where you come from, this is who you are, and don’t you forget it. Let’s cut you (and whatever semblances of confidence and self-esteem you have scraped together since last we met) down to a devourable size. Then let’s be having you, again and again and again.

Just like old times. Only you’re no longer little. What makes this even more fun is that you are all grown up now, and back here out of your own free will. Things can’t have been so very terrible, can they, if you keep rocking up for more of the same, and to play happy families for all to see. For you are in your prime now, and potentially so very powerful.

There are no victims, only volunteers; my dear, dare I say you are asking for it?

Like the best torturers, we never left any marks (and will not have to answer to any court) but there is the danger of you realising your strength, and of you finding the words for what we have done, and for what we are. The truth to us is a like a red rag to a bull, and to keep it at bay we have to keep you discombobulated and uncertain of yourself at all times while with us: trapped in that painfully familiar, utterly false childhood self – lying, self-denying, desperately trying to please us, accepting that truth, love, confidence and happiness are unthinkable and unspeakable in this house.

You are what we want you to be, a nothing, a joke, a tool to be used at our convenience.

We will do whatever it takes. Words for us are deadly blades in this, your first home. Even after all these years, we can still take your breath away with our unfettered sadism and creative callousness. But we are getting on, and as we grow old and frail, we use your stupid morality against you: you would not want to upset someone weaker than yourself, would you?

Well, that’s a good one coming from unrepentant child abusers, but in this as in other matters, we take great delight in duping you. The past, of course, is for us to rewrite as we see fit. Go there at your own peril – we will call you a liar, a fantasist, a lunatic, whatever it takes to shut you up, and more.

Why go? Why yank your inner child back to the place it worked so hard to escape – they might have crippled you for life, but hey, it’s a holiday or a special family event, that somehow is reason enough?

You likely go because you need the approval and validation of the world in a primal, desperate way, and thus want to do right by its standards. You hunger for a healthy normality, but the thought of having a family of your own scares you senseless, as does the thought of a Christmas all by yourself.

And while the world out there pays lip service to the protection of children, it is all out of sympathy when it comes to adult survivors of child abuse – how bad can it have been, you turned out alright, be grateful, forgive … anything other than the truth will do, on this much of the world concurs with the predators. 

And yet, fortunately, the world has also begun to change over the last decade or so. 2025 saw the release of Eamon Dolan’s excellent book, The Power of Parting, Finding Peace and Freedom through Family Estrangement – one of many powerful experiential and academic contributions to a thriving field focused on legitimising cutting abusers out of one’s life.

Alice Segell is a pseudonym. The author is a wife, researcher, writer and survivor.

Photo Credit: Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: This guest post is for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing shared here, across CPTSDfoundation.org, any CPTSD Foundation website, our associated communities, or our Social Media accounts, is intended to substitute for or supersede the professional advice and direction of your medical or mental health providers. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the guest author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the CPTSD Foundation. For further details, please review the following: Terms of Service, Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer