What CPTSD Actually Feels Like for Men
There’s a weird thing that happens when you’re a male survivor of childhood abuse and you grow up. You live your life without announcing what happened to you as a kid. There’s no guidebook to follow. You just sort of wake up one day as an adult who’s technically...
“I Feel Wrong… As A Human” Healing Existential Shame
Do you flinch at the slightest critique? Do you obsess over small mistakes? How a core belief that you are unacceptable as a human being can blow up your life. And what to do about it. When the System Signals Danger Althea sat at her desk, staring at the email from...
Spirituality and Healing the Effects of Trauma
Spirituality. I truly don’t think I’d be here today without it—without my unwavering belief that there is something larger than all of this, something beyond me and my past traumas that gives my life meaning…that gives all of our lives meaning. I can trace this belief...
Sitting with my Inner Child
“SITTING WITH MY INNER CHILD” When I started on the healing journey as I call it from my abusive childhood, one very important tool that I learned to do is sit with my inner child. I am a child abuse survivor, physical, sexual, and verbal. I was raised by...
I’m Becoming One of THOSE People!
I’m becoming the kind of person I used to warn myself about. Optimistic and joyful adults who flutter about the room with childlike glee used to scare the crap out of me. With slight annoyance and a lot of internal head-scratching, I wondered what they were so...
Becoming an Adult In Childhood: Ancient Innocence
As one day slid into the next, I transitioned from the final seconds of childhood into adulthood. Covering my head with a pillow to dampen the screams at the other end of the trailer, I only felt exhaustion as I crossed the threshold between ages 17 and 18. I wondered...
From Touch-Starved to Touch-Afraid: The lasting impact of touch deprivation
Growing up without affection can shape the way we seek and avoid love. On my thirteenth birthday my mother drove me to a mental hospital in Chicago. She claimed she couldn’t ‘handle’ me anymore. That was confusing to me because I had been ‘handling’ myself and my...
Once, I Dropped My Basket
My whole world had fallen apart at the seams. What was left, after everything was said and done, was myself, a six-man tent, everything I owned in a backpack, and my dog.I had run away from everything that hurt me — and in the running, I had been reduced to this.My...