What if my nervous system is so damaged from childhood trauma that no amount of therapy and practice will reteach it a sense of safety in places and situations that trigger me?

Is it possible for a nervous system to be so severely damaged by trauma that no amount of therapeutic techniques help 100 percent? 

These are questions spinning around in my brain regularly, and I’m now speaking them because I can’t push them down anymore.

I was suppressing these thoughts because I wanted to keep up hope that I could “fix” my nervous system and repair damage done by trauma. I want to have faith in the power of neuroplasticity. None of this is to say that nothing has helped me. I have seen progress in building up some resilience.

However, there is so much more progress to be made, that I grow frustrated at the rate healing takes. Being in an intensive outpatient program (IOP) has shown me how much work I need to do on myself, and quite frankly, it’s overwhelming. The amount of work is dizzying, and I can’t always seem to get a grip on myself when I think about all the therapy and practice I need to do.

 There are so many techniques and modalities for trauma, and through the IOP I have received a taste of a couple that seem really helpful, such as Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) and somatic exercises.  DBT and somatic work are modalities that I have been wanting to do for a while, but it’s so hard to find therapists who take insurance for somatic therapy.

I’m cracking down on practicing my meditation, somatic movement, breath work, and emotional regulation skills. It becomes overwhelming, and I want to cave under it all at times. There are so many facets of my trauma and mental health in general that need to be addressed, it almost feels as though I need a specialized therapist for each one.  

For instance, I noticed the other day that while doing a body scan, I struggle with body scans, because I struggle to be in my body. I don’t love my body. In fact, I don’t even feel neutral about my body. I have so much dislike for my body that goes way back to my childhood and conditioning, that I don’t even know where to begin. When I talk to therapists about this, they don’t seem to have the best of answers or to be the most comfortable talking about the topic.

It’s very weird, and it makes me feel like I have to do the work all on my own. I have to do my own research into how to even feel neutral about my body and then how to feel positive about my body. The frustration grows.

 Dental and medical phobia are other mental health conditions I have that seem to need their own therapists. All therapists I’ve had have recommended exposure therapy, but they don’t seem to go into detail about practical ways that I can expose myself to the dentist and the doctor. One therapist once recommended that I practice just entering and leaving a doctor’s office without doing anything. I imagine myself entering the building to my primary care provider’s office, standing there for a minute and then leaving.

If I did this frequently enough, wouldn’t they notice and question what I was doing? It might just draw too much attention and would be really weird. No one seems to have good exposure techniques that I can try. Maybe there aren’t any. Maybe that’s just the pessimism speaking.

There’s also the entire childhood trauma I experienced. I had to live in a near-constant state of unbearable anxiety as I walked on eggshells around my mother and former stepdad. The abuse from teachers and incessant bullying created a deep wound within me that I am carrying with me as an adult. This trauma makes living and functioning in important ways very difficult for me. I struggle with severe anxiety at work due to my fear of authority figures and of punishment if I make mistakes. That’s because I was screamed at and hit on multiple occasions for making mistakes as a child. The list goes on. 

I’m not really sure how to end this. I guess I really want to have hope, but I need to acknowledge that realistically, I can’t always be hopeful in my treatment.

There will be bumps along the way.  I need to forgive myself, show myself compassion, and know that it’s okay for me not to heal “perfectly”. 

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

I browse an old magazine, flip through some patterned papers, tear off some tissue paper, and imagine how these pieces fall into place. I go from feeling as though I have no control over anything to feeling complete as though I have complete agency over my actions. Now words are needed to express or to analyze how I am feeling. This is a nonverbal process that allows me to experience my emotions in a structured and safe way.

When words fail me in a journal, collage becomes my way of communication and processing without collapsing. The words come later when I am feeling more articulate and centered. 

Collaging a little bit every day has been beneficial to my mind, bringing peace to my nervous system. The activity of crafting gets me out of my head as someone who overthinks and easily becomes stuck in a creative block. When my brain becomes too blocked up with thoughts about perfection, the anxiety makes it harder to create.

Collaging gives me the freedom to glue anything I want to paper without overthinking. Additionally, when the stress from vulnerability factors throughout the day puts me in freeze mode,  a creative practice, especially collaging, helps me get out of that freeze. 

For the days when I’m so stuck in freeze that I can’t seem to find inspiration to collage, I find that watching YouTube videos of other people making art inspires me. In that situation, I sit with the video playing in the background while I make art. It’s as though I am making art with another person in the room.

In fact, if I can, I like to have friends over for crafting. Establishing a sense of community while making collage art is also one way that I ground my anxieties, dread, depression, and trauma symptoms. 

Collage also has the benefit of slowing me down when I’m overstimulated. If I sit down at my crafting space, take some slow deep breaths, and put on some slow music in the background, I am telling my body that it’s safe to slow down now. I may stare at a pile of paper scraps, slowly letting my fingers pass along the texture of each one, noticing the colors and patterns. Letting some ink, glue, or paint get on my fingers is extremely satisfying in the process, as well. This slowing-down process detangles my thoughts from mental constipation, opening up my creativity. 

As someone who struggles to name my strengths, I find collage an empowering tool that builds confidence in my artistic abilities.

I have a lot of trauma from my formative years in school, as I was a child who struggled academically early on. Teachers expressed disappointment, and my peers called me stupid. I even had one teacher call me stupid. So ever since then, I’ve carried these experiences with me into adulthood.

Recently, I’ve found collage to be a tool that empowers me to look at my work and feel good about it. It gives me the confidence to keep working in other creative outlets, such as painting, drawing, and writing. 

Being able to piece together a whole new image from a bunch of ripped-up images is like putting myself together after falling apart. It’s not only satisfying to rip, cut, glue, touch, and smell the materials. The tactile experience is both internal and external. When I come home from work feeling dysregulated, sitting down with a blank art journal page to create a collage creates a sense of warmth and safety within me.

In making collage, I am communicating with myself, externalizing my inner experiences so they don’t create more wounds.

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