I ran across a link to the study titled “Family Experiences Study” when it came across a support group’s combined chat labeled something like PENN State University ACES questionnaire.

Seeing that title pop up on my screen (having a few minutes to kill), I thoughtwhy not?!  I already knew I had 7 ACEs, so I doubted this would enlighten me much, but I was curious about the “science” behind it. So, I answered the questions.

I think I was the third person to share my ‘score’ in response to the post. I did so as a way to communicate that I found the criteria for the study rather unrealistic–impossible even.

The divisions for the results were presented as follows:  

• 0-84 = Non-Clinical Range (unlikely PTSD)
• 85-167 = Subclinical Range (potential for PTSD)
• Greater than 167 = Clinical Range (likely PTSD).

My score was 319. Another member in our support group posted their number, and it was even higher (it smacked my gob good and well!).

I shouldn’t have been that surprised. The survey just confirmed what I already knew. The idea of going from 7 to 319 was a bit of a whiplash, but I recognized that different scales measured different things. Best to not get hung up on numbers.

The amazing thing about this combination of events, and the reason for this little foray, is not the number the test gave me (a score 45 times greater than the number previously in my head): it was the shockwave sent through our online support community.

As one might imagine, since we were all CPTSD types, we were data- and information-oriented. Thus, there was a lot of curiosity about how this survey worked.

*Ping. 245
*Ping. 303
*Ping. 287
*Ping. 333

And on it went. I’m surprised we didn’t freeze the server.

Along with the numbers were lots of jokes:

“What did I win?”

“Hey, I ACEd it.”

“Hold my beer.”

“Perfect Score!” 

Some of the humor got pretty dark.

However, it also provided a sense of validation.

“I feel seen.”

“That was on the nose.”

“I think it’s time to find myself some real support.”

However, we knew that these weren’t school grades and that there was no competition. None of us saw this as a race–and it certainly wasn’t something one might “win.” Overall, there was tremendous support for one another, and it was a beautiful thing to see.

Still, there was one thing that we largely agreed on: how was it possible for anyone to land in the Non-Clinical range?

The idea that there are ideal normal people out there running around with (I’m not sure how to say this) a supportive family, good childhood memories, a yard full of unicorns and bunnies–this was, frankly, unbelievable. Personally, I can’t imagine what it might look like. The concept is completely alien.

Well, good for them, I guess. I hope they realize how fortunate they are. 

To wrap up this little news report (not really a proper essay, is it?), I guess I’ll give a shout out to the researchers at Penn State and a Thank You for providing a resource that let, at least, one CPTSD community laugh, cry, think, and come together in mutual support.

Photo credit: Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Mari Stewart

Currently I’m trying to find a publisher for novel 1. Writing. Writing. Editing. Editing.
And trying to tame the feral kittens that overrun the tiny town I call home.

mari-stewart.com

I wrote this poem a few months ago, drawing from the well of ancient, long-buried feelings about the first time my mom forced my mouth open and poured Dawn dish soap into it. I was four. Although I had received spankings with a variety of objects over the last year (when her new partner introduced physical child abuse to the mix), this was new. As I choked on the pungent combination of soap, snot, and tears, I grappled with confusion and fear. Soapy bubbles of snot popped around my face, and I struggled to breathe. The soap burned my throat and nostrils. My mom, who had never done anything this cruel, tightly gripped the insides of my elbows, screaming at me to stop crying. 

To this day, I am only half sure what I “did” to bring on that previously foreign punishment. I only have a flash of a memory and clues from what came after to guide me in making deductions about what motivated her to unleash a new brand of assault. It was the first time of many. Washing our mouths with soap became a go-to when a hard smack across the face or tightly gripping our cheeks didn’t suffice after we “said something we shouldn’t have.” Sometimes it was a curse word; other times, an opinion. The times when my mom suffocated my opinions stung the most. 

There’s a little part of me that thinks that the first time I “got the soap,” it may have been after I shared my thoughts about her new partner; I didn’t like him and didn’t want him there. I solidly remember saying such while living in the house where I first choked on soap; whether that statement led to my oral “baptism” or not, I will never really know. I only know that time and time again, my words fell silent. The person who should have listened to me and heard me instead again and again gagged me. Had she asked me why I didn’t like him, it may have saved me from nearly a decade and a half of the sexual abuse and mental abuse that he initiated as early as he did the beatings. 

She didn’t ask, though. Instead, she silenced me. I learned to shut myself up, closing off my thoughts and feelings from the world. I sewed them up tightly within, and over the years, I only allowed them to escape when safely veiled beneath the mask of my poetry. 

I learned to suppress the truth of my reality, even from myself. For the next three and a half decades, I downplayed the cruelty of some of the things I experienced. That’s not to say there weren’t parts of me that knew many of those things weren’t right…that they were downright abusive. Of course, I KNEW that. I just couldn’t allow myself to FEEL it for a very, very long time. If you’re reading this from a place of trauma yourself, I suspect you know exactly what I’m saying.

I didn’t want to feel these things for a simple reason: I love my mom. Despite the cruelty of what I just described, I want to emphasize that she’s not a horrible person. She did, however, do some very bad things. Sometimes, even worse, she didn’t always do the things she should have done to protect her kids…like listen to us when we needed her to hear us the most. I have a lot of very strong feelings around those things. Only in recent years have I allowed myself to acknowledge and truly embrace those hard feelings. Those feelings come across strongly in the poem above. There are parts of me that take issue with some of the lines that erupted from me because they feel too binary. I’ve come to learn that life truly is not and does not have to live on a pendulum of sharp swings from one extreme to another. And…despite my hesitation around this “black and white” perspective, I’m keeping those uncomfortable lines in the poem. Those uncomfortable lines are a part of my truth. I need to feel them just as they are so that I can finally work through them and move forward.  

For me, a key part of moving forward lies in putting words to my experiences and accepting my story for what it is. Sometimes I wonder where my ability to string words into powerful phrases originated. I think that maybe it comes from that place within that was time and time again suppressed, choked, and gagged. When I write, I experience a ferocity of feeling, both freeing and terrifying in its ability to help me find meaning in the meaningless. Again and again throughout my life, I have returned to the refuge of my words. Fortunately, there were some things within me that simply couldn’t be silenced. I clung to the life raft of the words no one could take from me. I disguised my feelings in the poetry I wrote relentlessly as a child and teenager, and even sporadically throughout my adulthood, until a year ago when the floodgates opened, and it ALL began pouring out in a river of emotions. These days, I have again begun to write poetry, and I am learning to write my story in a much more direct kind of way. I’m taking ownership of my words and story. We ALL deserve to reclaim the words and the feelings that were taken from us. 

Scrubbed Innocence

You lit a lava fire that blazes in my throat
Its flames engulf me in fear 
They rage, burning the broken bridges
Between then and here 

In silencing my words, you murdered my trust in you
Violent echoes of the past
Color my eyes in lonely shades of blue
Your mutilation of motherhood 
Cast my world in shadows
A violation of my childhood
left me alone, bearing too much to handle

You suffocated my sense of safety
Left me drowning in my tears
Instead of saving me from my hell
You trapped me in yours

Your cruelty choked my confidence
The scorch of my tears ran through rivers of snot 
You scrubbed away my innocence
Nightmares bubbling to the top

You stood center of some of my darkest hours
You were supposed to be my soft place
You were supposed to be my mother
Instead, I’m left with smoldering embers of an unnamed guilt
The parts of you that loved me
No longer felt

I’m still choking on your brutality
Buried beneath suffering remembered
Your conscience stands empty
After all that I endured, after all the pain you rendered

Photo by Alex Shute on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Heather Jurvelin

Finally feeling truly alive for the first time in my life, I am writing from a place of gradual healing with an eye to the future and a hope of connecting with others on similar paths. Forced to withhold a tsunami of emotions deemed irrelevant under the roof of my childhood “home,” the blank white pages of my notebooks invited my raw reflections without judgment. Writing allowed me to free the burdens of my soul, but at some point, I muzzled myself. My pen lay dormant for years until, at 41 years old, I experienced a traumatic flashback during an everyday activity that shook me to the core. Five days later, I started writing about the things I had long withheld. I couldn’t stop. Written words have once again become my refuge. I now recognize that these words, resurrected from the ashes of my pain, may have the power to help others. Above all, I want to magnify and share the messages that I have most treasured on my journey: we are not alone and we don’t ever have to go back. This is where we live now and the future is ours.

Filicide (n): is the deliberate act of a parent killing their own child. In 1969, Dr. Phillip Resnick published research on filicide and stated that there were five main motives for filicide, including “altruistic,” “fatal maltreatment,” “unwanted child,” “acutely psychotic,” and “spousal revenge.”

You know the houses that end up in the newspaper where a parent kills all the kids, and everyone is shocked? I come from one of those; I just made it out alive. There were numerous threats, even what could be considered an attempt, on my life while my brain was developing.

Several of Dr. Phillip Resnick’s categories fit the household I grew up in. Two stand out the most to me: acutely psychotic and fatal maltreatment. Acutely psychotic filicide occurs when a parent in the throes of acute psychosis kills his or her child with no comprehensible motive. Fatal maltreatment filicide may occur because of child abuse, neglect, or Munchausen syndrome by proxy. In fatal maltreatment killings, the goal is not always to kill the child, but death may occur anyway. Acutely psychotic is a match for many of our childhood experiences, such as being chased with a knife or threatened with death in the car. But fatal maltreatment (with Munchausen syndrome by proxy) is a match for what occurred over the course of my sister’s 43 years of life, a form of filicide in slow motion.  

Rose’s life was tragically stolen

I do believe the pain of helplessly watching my sister, Rose, tormented for decades as an adult, culminating in a devastating loss, was worse than anything done directly to me in childhood. My sister was the kindest person I’ve ever known with a heart of gold. She was beautiful and smart with all the potential in the world. It was not my sister’s fault. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who truly understands that. It’s incredibly hard to heal while financially ensnared with the source of your childhood horror. Rose’s life was tragically stolen. 

My name is Victoria, and I live with my husband of eleven years, Jack, and my 9-year-old son, Owen. I’ve essentially been in therapy and mental health treatment my entire adult life. I was left with numerous humiliating symptoms and no believable story for how I came to have them. When I told the truth, I would usually be interpreted as the delusional one. I was thrown out into the world with no life skills and a wicked case of CPTSD. I don’t even want to know what I’ve spent on therapy or treatments by now. Probably a couple of hundred thousand. I spent a long time wondering what was wrong with me. Now I wonder if I simply had a perfectly rational response to perfectly irrational circumstances.

I’ve created an anonymous website to raise awareness about surviving life-threatening abuse perpetrated by primary caregivers in childhood, to show how this abuse can continue into adulthood, and to improve treatment outcomes for survivors. After years of research, I have discovered there are no studies on the experiences of adult survivors of this specific pattern of abuse.

www.filicidesurvivor.com documents a lifetime of severe financial, psychological, physical, and coercive control within a family system that ultimately contributed to my sister’s death. It offers a personal perspective on clear blind spots in the mental healthcare system, and the resources in place meant to protect us, such as Child Protective Services and Adult Protective Services. I’m sharing this experience so that others in similar homes may recognize the signs earlier, trust themselves, and find a way out.

Thus far, I’ve only met one person in my life to report life-threatening abuse from a parent. She is much younger than I, and likened her lived experience to dying inside a little every day, invisibly. And I’ve never met anyone whose mother told them to kill themselves or told them, as well as their siblings, that they deserve to die. But I do believe and know there are people like me out there who probably feel all alone in this as I do. So here I sit, writing to you. 

I was 40 years old when I first learned the word “Filicide.” I was in search of community. I wanted to know if what I was telling people was, in fact, reality. I couldn’t easily track down individuals with similar life-threatening childhood experiences. I learned the term, but I quickly realized I was right. There is no community that I could find. I found one small study of seven live children of attempted filicide. The children either had to have wounds to prove it, or the parents had to admit it. I wouldn’t qualify. My injuries are invisible, and the idea of my parents admitting fault in the slightest is laughable. I promise, I HOPED and TRIED for a long time to get through to them. It’s impossible, and no psychologist would tell me to speak to them. 

Few can wrap their heads around biological “parents” who would do this. It is very hard to be believed. Further, my “father” was a top executive at an international food/beverage company, an arrogant millionaire, and 6’5”. It’s impossible for me to explain to others how a 5’5” woman with no job completely controlled him. I don’t understand it myself. Sometimes I think I’m interpreted as arrogant simply for stating his job title, but I’m not saying it out of ego. I believe his career is how they got away with a lifetime of abuse, and why my sisters and I have rarely been believed. People do not expect child abuse like what we went through to come from a household like mine with wealthy, educated “parents.” Socioeconomic status and professional credibility can act as a shield that prevents abuse from being recognized. Multiple clinicians have described my “parents’” behavior as consistent with severe personality pathology and psychosis. 

There are many severe traumas in the world, and my heart goes out to each one of you. People who work on and overcome traumas are warriors. Because no matter what, you’re facing a painful uphill battle. And other trauma survivors have been the people who carried me through my darkest days. Severe traumas certainly include fighting in war, sexual abuse, having alcoholic, abusive parents, parental abandonment, racial trauma, and more. I have not directly experienced many of these severe traumas. I cannot speak to the impact all these traumas have on individuals as I feel it’s comparing apples and oranges. What I will say is that I’ve often felt alone in my trauma being understood. While we all have our own powerful and unique stories, I often feel some of the broader categories of severe traumas have more community access to others who have experienced the same, more understanding of the impact, and perhaps more general acceptance in society. However, society’s understanding of the effect of trauma on individuals with CPTSD is still staggeringly inadequate.

So now I’m asking, where’s my comparison on who knows what it’s like to have your “mother” threatening and/or attempting to kill you while your brain was developing?

One critical aspect identified in the study I found of seven children is the theme of “I’m alive thanks to my siblings.” I discovered after decades in therapy that I had been living with a severe case of Survivor’s Guilt over my sister, Rose. I feel like this could have been identified far sooner if this topic were researched. Survivor’s Guilt in a Filicide Survivor is likely to be significant due to the unique sibling bonds under lethal threat. 

Please be aware that www.filicidesurvivor.com contains descriptions of severe parental abuse, psychological trauma, and death. Some content may be triggering, so it is important to prioritize your safety and mental health. If you are able to relate to this content, please consider processing this information alongside a qualified mental health professional.

The site includes our story, redacted evidence (family messages, witness statements, police statements, and counselor reports), and resources. Most people do not believe me without evidence, so this is unfortunately necessary to tell our story. Over time, I hope this space can also serve as an anonymous platform for others who want to safely share their experiences.

One lesson I learned throughout this process is the nature of the psychological double bind. If I stay silent, I betray myself and my sister. Speak, and feel conditioned fear, guilt, and shame. I choose the path of speaking. I choose truth. My loyalty is to my sister, and my heart is with survivors. If even one person recognizes their own family in mine and breaks free, then our story will have made a difference. 

If you are a mental health professional interested in researching this topic, I welcome the opportunity to speak with you.

Names in this story have been changed for anonymity. 

Source: https://jaapl.org/content/33/4/496

Photo by Kane Reinholdtsen on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Victoria B.

A Dragonfly Mosaic: My Journey from Fear to Love is the working title of the memoir I’m currently writing. It chronicles a lifetime shaped by complex trauma and my ongoing path toward healing. The sudden death of my mother when I was fifteen was the primary event that fractured my sense of safety, but it was not the only one. I grew up in a chaotic household dominated by my father’s severe alcoholism. Over time, I also experienced the premature deaths of my brother, sister, and longtime best friend. My life included domestic violence, police brutality, being struck by a truck while crossing the street, and a near-fatal reaction to medication. Of all these experiences, profound loss and abandonment cut the deepest.

I was eventually diagnosed with complex PTSD. For years, I lived with symptoms that shaped every aspect of my life: nightmares so intense that I had to scream myself awake, panic attacks, intrusive thoughts, and severe depression that led to suicidal ideation. I lived in a constant state of hypervigilance, plagued by anxiety and somatic symptoms, particularly digestive issues. I never felt safe.

The pain I carried felt unbearable. When it tried to surface, I did everything I could to suppress or escape it. Fantasy, emotional withdrawal, and constant movement became my coping strategies. Throughout my twenties and early thirties, I moved from place to place, believing that if I just kept going, I could outrun what lived inside me. Fear kept my pain alive, and fear kept me running. Even after I eventually settled down, the struggle continued. I tried to escape my pain by leaning heavily on others—calling, crying, seeking relief outside myself. Over the years, I explored a wide range of therapeutic approaches, both conventional and alternative. Slowly and often painfully, I moved from a life ruled by fear, addiction, and suicidal ideation toward learning how to sit with pain, integrate it, and ultimately meet it with compassion and love.

What Didn’t Work

Along the way, I tried many healing modalities that did not help me. These included energy-based practices, such as Reiki, which aim to balance the body’s energy centers. I tried homeopathy, based on the idea that “like heals like” through highly diluted substances. I tried Rolfing, a bodywork approach that attempts to release trauma through manipulation of the body’s fascia. While these practices may help others, they were ineffective for me. Some talk therapy experiences were also unhelpful, particularly those with counselors who were not trained in trauma-informed care. I spent years talking about my pain without learning how to process it. I also explored Internal Family Systems (IFS), which views the psyche as a system of “parts” guided by a core, compassionate Self. While this framework gave me valuable insight and language for understanding myself, it did not reduce my trauma symptoms. Each unsuccessful attempt left me more discouraged, reinforcing the belief that I was broken or beyond repair.

What Worked

One therapy that made a meaningful difference was EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing). EMDR involves processing traumatic memories through guided eye movements, allowing the brain to refile them in a less distressing way. I was able to enter the altered, almost hypnotic state this therapy requires with relative ease. During sessions, my mind would move fluidly between memories, linking past experiences in unexpected ways. Often, an older, wiser version of myself would appear, offering comfort and re-parenting the younger me. In this sense, EMDR allowed me to retell my life story. While EMDR helped me significantly over time, in the short term, my symptoms intensified, especially my nightmares. Healing, I learned, is rarely linear. Another form of therapy that has helped—and that I continue to use—is Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). ACT taught me something I had never learned before: how to stop fighting my pain. Instead of trying to eliminate difficult thoughts and emotions, ACT encourages acceptance while committing to a life guided by values. What I love about ACT is its practicality. It gave me concrete tools to sit with pain rather than flee from it. Over time, this approach freed me from relying on others for emotional regulation. I became more grounded, more independent, and more compassionate toward myself.

Medication was another critical piece of my healing, though I resisted it for years. Doctors, friends, and family members encouraged me to try antidepressants, but I was in deep denial about needing them. When I finally started Prozac at twenty-nine, it made a profound difference. It quieted my relentless mental loops and helped me to feel a sense of calm and clarity. I was fortunate not to experience significant side effects. Of the medications I’ve tried, Zoloft—the only SSRI FDA-approved for PTSD—has been the most effective for me. In more recent years, I participated in a guided psilocybin journey that helped me in ways that feel almost beyond language. It softened a deep, pervasive fear that had lived in my body for decades. Importantly, this experience did not replace my medication; it complemented the foundation I had already built.

Alongside professional support, I developed personal practices that continue to sustain me: meditation, prayer, exercise—especially yoga—time in nature, and nourishing my body with whole foods. I learned to see food as medicine, cut out alcohol and caffeine, limit sugar, and listen to what my body truly needed.

My Insights

My healing truly began when I stopped searching for one magical answer. I let go of the fantasy that there was a single cure, healer, or method that would make me whole. Instead, I accepted that healing from complex trauma is complex—it requires many tools, used together, over time. I stopped viewing conventional and alternative approaches as opposing camps and began embracing whatever genuinely helped. Even as psilocybin brought profound insight and relief, and as I continue to do occasional self-guided psilocybin journeys, I chose to remain on Zoloft, resisting the cultural pressure to abandon medication. Healing, I learned, does not have to follow someone else’s ideology.

For a long time, I believed I needed to be fixed. I was chasing perfection, a common trait among those with CPTSD. I wanted my pain to disappear, as if a magician could erase it and leave me unscarred. Eventually, I realized that my pain was not a defect—it was a part of me shaped by survival. I no longer demonize my pain or run from it in fear. I meet it. I sit with it. I listen to it. I love it. In doing so, I’ve become more whole—not by erasing the broken pieces, but by assembling them into something meaningful. I see myself now as a mosaic: fragments once shattered, carefully pieced together into a work of art that symbolizes resilience, growth, and transformation. A dragonfly mosaic. Healing is no longer something I’m trying to “get over with.” It’s an ongoing, living process—one I’ve learned to honor and even cherish.

Closing

I hope this post has offered comfort, insight, or a sense of companionship on your own journey. If you’d like to explore further, please visit my website, where you can read my latest post on the therapeutic value of Siddhartha and Slaughterhouse-Five for those living with CPTSD. You can also sign up for my newsletter to be notified when A Dragonfly Mosaic: My Journey from Fear to Love is released.

Biography
Grace Mattioli is the author of three novels: “Olive Branches Don’t Grow on Trees,” “Discovery of an Eagle,” and “The Bird that Sang in Color.” She is currently working on a memoir, “A Dragonfly Mosaic: My Journey from Fear to Love,” and several short stories. She lives in Portland, Oregon, with her husband and her cats. Her books are available from all major online book sellers, including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Apple Books.

Photo by Rohan Makhecha on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Grace Mattoli

We hear about trauma this and trauma that. The word trauma is used so much that it’s almost lost its true meaning. If you have been affected by real trauma, you know how much it hurts. 

Trauma doesn’t go away on its own. Trauma doesn’t just stop existing once the traumatic events have ended.

Trauma carries on long after it happened. 

In the case of PTSD, or Complex PTSD, triggers can keep following survivors 24 hours a day. I know this by personal experience–I’ve lived it. And you might be living like this, too, right now, or know someone who is.

News and media report traumatic events like popping corn. Story after story is broadcast to the world about one horrific event after another.

Who reports on the aftermath? Does anyone care anymore? Who is bold enough to stand up and talk about trauma victims after a harrowing event? Not many of us. We hear nothing but crickets. Radio silence. Yet, there are those of us who live with trauma every single day. That is why I write–because our voices matter. Everyone matters.

For many trauma survivors, it is a struggle to get through a single day, because that trauma impacts how people carry out even the simplest daily tasks. It is hard to connect with other people.

Survivors who have suffered from prolonged trauma (over months and years) are more prone to struggle with regulating emotions.

For example, a small passing comment or a certain tone of voice can trigger an involuntary flashback that can derail an entire day. We don’t talk about it because we can’t. It’s too painful and, even if we could, it’s private. Instead, trauma survivors nod and agree even when we are screaming inside. We abandon ourselves to please others and keep things going. We push far past our own boundaries. But there is no one to stand up for us and help, because no one sees our struggles. It feels like nobody cares. We become invisible.

Trauma survivors don’t exist in the world: we get tucked away in the news— buried by noise.

Who decides what’s important?

Breaking Free

I’m a trauma survivor, and I escaped childhood abuse and harrowing trauma. I was a teenager when I left everything I knew and started again.

After a life riddled with abuse, survivors usually have no idea how to live and take care of themselves–or how to be around other people.

Social events are awkward, and even a visit to the food market can be frightening because we are reminded of the threats from our abusers. The echoes of trauma still ring loud and clear inside our heads. Even though we have broken free, that “voice” is still in our minds, dictating our every move.

It can take years for this voice to go away. I realized quickly that if I was to survive alone in this world, I had to start thinking of myself first. So, how do you do that when you have never before been in control of your own life? I soon discovered that living free gave me my answers over time. It was a matter of survival.

Taking Back Control

I was an avid reader and enjoyed watching movies and people. I could sit on a park bench for hours observing others, taking invisible notes of how people behaved. It fascinated me to see how they interacted, and reacted to things–and to each other.

Watching people like this gave me ideas about how others socialized without the presence of abuse. I have always been hyper-vigilant, and I learned to put my skills to good use.

I noticed that people did not shout hurtful words at each other. Parents hugged their kids instead of being cruel, and there were no raging insults or fights. Something stirred within me–curiosity, mixed with desire.

I started to hope that the world was really like this. The more I saw affectionate and smiling people, the happier I became. I started smiling, even though I still felt emotionally raw.

With each passing day, I set myself small goals to achieve. These were goals that may have seemed silly to someone who has had free will, but to me, they were enormous. I started being more mindful of my body, and once a day I tried to just sit and breathe.

It may seem weird that such a small change would help, but it turned my life around. By paying attention to my body, I was able to notice when I was tense–or relaxed.

Once I had a feel of what tense and relaxed “felt like,” I could do something about it and follow through appropriately with what needed to be done next. I had been doing “research” by watching others, to see how someone might act. This helped me understand that I could actually choose how I felt, and not just let trauma-related reactions overwhelm me and take over.

Setting Goals

One of my first goals was to never go hungry again. I also promised myself that I would try to eat the best I could with the money I earned. I would choose carefully to eat foods I enjoyed, while making sure I had a balanced meal. I introduced more vegetables and fruit into my diet, and I started to feel more energy. Better nutrition made me feel good, and I noticed I didn’t get sick as much.

My second goal was to shower every day because it made me feel better. I took time to shampoo my hair, and I allowed myself to stay under the water for as long as I wanted. My complexion started to change quickly. My skin was looking less grey, and I had a new brightness in my cheeks.

My third goal was to buy myself better-fitting clothes so that no one would tease me anymore. I bought jeans and shirts that fit my body type. I also got a few more pairs of shoes so that I had choices, and could have shoes for exercising that were different from my shoes for work.

These three simple changes may seem silly and basic to someone who has not been abused. Yet, for me, these changes signaled the start of my life as a free woman. I took responsibility for my choices, learned to prioritize what I needed, and woke up to life beyond just survival. I felt great.

We don’t have to let trauma make our decisions for us. There are small–and very effective ways–to start taking our power back right now. 

My name is Lizzy. I’m a trauma survivor, a wife, a mom, a teacher, and an author.

For more about me: www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

Support your fellow writer:
https://ko-fi.com/elizabe69245484here.

Here are a few links to my top articles:

How to Explain Complex PTSD to Loved Ones
https://medium.com/illumination/how-to-explain-complex-ptsd-to-loved-ones-769f81d437ab

Looking for a Change?
https://medium.com/activated-thinker/looking-for-a-change-f391e85abbd7

A Search for Identity
https://medium.com/beyond-lines/a-search-for-identity-893df7c970c2

Are You Searching for Peace?
https://medium.com/illumination/are-you-searching-for-peace-cd54d76231c8

Are You Dealing With Burnout?
https://medium.com/illumination/are-you-dealing-with-burnout-374f774141b4

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Elizabeth Woods

For more about me: https://www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

Elizabeth Woods grew up in a world of brutal sex offenders, murderers, and inconceivably neglectful adults. Elizabeth is passionate about spreading awareness of what it is like to survive after trauma. She is the author of several books and has written her memoir, telling her childhood story: The Sex-Offender’s Daughter: A True Story of Survival Against All Odds, available on Amazon Kindle and paperback.

Elizabeth is also the author of “Living with Complex PTSD” and the Cedar’s Port Fiction series: “Saving Joshua”, “Protecting Sarah”, “Guarding Noah” and “Bringing Back Faith,” and “Restoring Hope,” available here: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0BCBZQN7L/allbooks?ingress=0&visitId=7e223b5b-1a29-45f0-ad9d-e9c8fdb59e9c&ref_=ap_rdr&ccs_id=931f96e2-c220-4765-acc8-cc99bb95e8bd

www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com/

Give yourself the pleasure of a functional life filled with people who believe you, who trust you, love you, and who accept the beauty and the wonder that is your strength.

I recently connected with Alle C. Hall, a sought-after author, speaker, writing instructor, and incest survivor known for her profound and compassionate insights into the joy, challenges, and successes that come from harnessing the creativity that heals trauma.

She and I had a great conversation about the power of stories to heal and reclaim joy, and I’m so glad to introduce you to this powerhouse woman!
—
RACHEL: What inspired you to start writing about/exploring this topic?

ALLE: I began writing professionally only a few months prior to uncovering a true willingness to accept the trauma that defined my childhood. Prior to that, I didn’t think about being abused; it was as complex and as simple as that. I survived well enough, given that I did not know how to love or be loved. Although I didn’t understand so at the time, it was as if having my work published gave my inner child that last little boost she needed to come forth and say, “Heal me. Now.”

In my healing process, I spent seven, maybe eight years in recovery from an eating disorder, alcoholism, and PTSD related to surviving childhood trauma before it occurred to me that my story could be altered in this fun (for me) way–and become a good book. Until the idea dawned, I found being a journalist completely satisfying.

I often wrote about women’s issues: topics such as female genital mutilation and sexism in the workplace. S*xual assault. My favorite piece to date was supposed to be a review of the musical Miss Saigon, but the day the copy was due, news broke that an Asian woman had been murdered by her husband. This white guy had (as I refer to in the article) “purchased” her through the magazine Cherry Blossoms. Claiming he was physically abusive, she was filing for divorce. She was in the actual courthouse when he walked up to her and shot her dead. She was pregnant.

I couldn’t help but see the overlap between magazines that marketed young, beautiful Asian women to white men in the States and the issues presented in Miss Saigon: denying female autonomy, the objectification of young Asian women, the insistence that they be beautiful, and the imperialistic dynamic often present in relationships between white men and Asian women. Suffice it to say, the show did not come across well in my review.

These such stories of women and girls have been critical to me. I remember when I first realized that the way girls were shaped by society was inequitable, unbearable, and just plain nonsensical. As soon as I started dedicating myself to writing about these things, I experienced a great sense of freedom from seeing sexism and misogyny right there in print. It gave me great purpose to be able to use my creativity to nail patriarchy and its toxic offshoots.

One afternoon at work, I had the entire outline for a book pop into my head: a girl is being abused, steals money to run away, comes into contact with a Lonely Planet guidebook, and decides to go to Asia. She gets to Asia and fucks up entirely due to the fact that she’s brought her own history in her backpack with her. I come across Tai chi and many generous and caring people who practice Tai chi.

There was never a question that the main character would find Tai chi. It wasn’t an element of the novel I weighed or debated. This detail existed from the moment the story popped into my head. My own practice led to choices about life that wouldn’t have happened had I not pursued the light and the positive circles that Tai chi offers.

It felt as though the story had been inside of me already for years: Asia, incest, pain, Tai chi, freedom, and learning to thrive. As I came to writing, it was only a matter of time until a novel based loosely on my childhood was going to come out.

Why write a novel? I published a number of first-person essays describing elements of my childhood and how I got through them. For some reason, the story in As Far as You Can Go Before You Have to Come Back just had to come out as a novel.

Why?

When I figure that out, I will be accepting my Nobel for Science.

RACHEL: What key insights or lessons have you learned through your experiences with this subject?

ALLE: I’ll start with something many of your readers already know: most abuse is not snatch-her-off-the-street. Most abuse is perpetrated by family and/or other trusted adults. Every survivor I come in contact with struggles with wanting to have their family, particularly the perpetrator, admit to the abuse and apologize. There is, sometimes unspoken, often subconscious–an idea that getting them to apologize is the key to healing.

Don’t wait for anyone else’s acknowledgment before you let yourself heal. Believe in yourself and move into your recovery program. Give yourself the pleasure of a functional life filled with people who believe you, who trust you, love you, and who accept the beauty and the wonder that is your strength.

And be open to miracles. You never know who in your family or community is going to come out in support of you.

Secondly, I would stress that financial independence is really critical.

I’m not saying you need to be rich. I’m saying you need to know you can take care of yourself.

It is very hard to experience healing when those who caused the damage are partially or in full your source of income–even paying for your recovery processes.

For two years, I made between $6.50 and $8.50 an hour as a receptionist. It was the only job I could handle while in the initial stages of getting my head together. But I got by. I was really proud of supporting myself despite every person in my childhood who told me I couldn’t. I had always been dependent on my family. Slowly, step by reasonable step, I built a career writing and teaching about surviving trauma through harnessing creative expression.

Which brings me to my final point: unresolved trauma sits like a blanket, wet and heavy over the hippocampus, which is a part of the brain primary to holding the different facets of trauma: the physical, the spiritual, the emotional, the sexual, and the intellectual. The hippocampus can file images of the abuse separate from the memory of it, and separate from the emotions locked there: anger, shame, pain, guilt, and loneliness.

The hippocampus is also the seat of our creativity. Anyone can work to harness whatever form of creativity they enjoy to physically push the trauma out of their body. I know people who discover they are visual artists, chefs, potters, or great storytellers. Or maybe they make quilts, or parent in the most amazing way imaginable. It doesn’t matter what you do to express yourself. As long as it doesn’t involve damaging or illegal behavior, you can harness that creativity to flush the trauma and generate still more creative expression, flushing out still more trauma.


RACHEL:  What challenges or misconceptions do you think people face when dealing with this topic, and how can they overcome them?

ALLE:  I’ll start with that last part, because it’s the easiest to formulate sentences about–though perhaps the hardest to commit to: you just cannot give up.

No matter what life throws at you, no matter what kind of break you might take from your healing, and whatever trouble you might get into because of that break, you have to come back to pursuing personal joy and ultimate peace.

My experience is that overcoming trauma and abuse comes down to accepting that while it was bad and horrible and wrong, it did happen. I learned to accept that it happened without condoning it.

So, how does a person do that? I think that one’s addictions are the easiest place to begin because there’s a free, accessible process: 12-step programs. These days, many good books you’ll come in contact with while working the steps include addressing childhood trauma. The best one I’ve read is called Iron Legacy by Dr. Donna J. Bevan-Lee.

If you want to learn about recovery through written exercises and reading personal essays, get Iron Legacy. If you want to learn about it via a story, get mine.


RACHEL: Are there any common myths or misunderstandings about this topic that you’d like to address?

ALLE: What a timely question, given how we are focused on the women abused as girls (and older) by Jeffrey Epstein, Ghislaine Maxwell, and all those powerful, rich men. It wasn’t until a month or so ago that we started hearing the women referred to as survivors. They are generally called victims.

The public at large needs to be shown that while abuse survivors were victimized, we are no longer victims. We live with joy in conjunction with an awareness of–and despite–the world being what it is.

Another misconception is that the survivors are at fault. The truth is: we didn’t hurt anyone. We didn’t commit crimes. Child abuse is a crime.

In addition, there is the idea that we’re supposed to be weak–perhaps kept in bed, and fed soup.

Of course, people are shocked and horrified when they hear what I went through, and that is fair. But too many people lack the understanding of how strong someone has to be to survive childhood trauma, and sexual trauma. We are so strong.


RACHEL: What resources, tools, or next steps would you recommend for readers who want to dive deeper into this topic?

ALLE: It is of primary importance to accept that you need help getting through this. While you might have been alone when the abuse took place, you aren’t alone now. There are so many amazing people with wisdom to share about surviving, healing, and thriving, and they want to listen and help. There are great worlds of joy to experience, and they are waiting for you.

As I’ve said, and will reiterate here: 12-Step programs.

Additionally, there is a wonderful national non-profit organization called She Recovers. They have local groups and online communities that meet regularly.

I have a small, private Facebook group called Reading and Writing Trauma. I’d love you to join us–especially if you like reading books about surviving trauma. Also, if you’re interested in writing and even publishing your stories, we’re a great place to get that information.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/587401290619506


—I wholeheartedly echo everything Alle has shared here. If you’re on a journey of healing or exploring how creativity can help you move forward, I encourage you to check out her work, her novel, and the wonderful resources she offers for insight, encouragement, and inspiration.

To Joy!

Rachel\
P.S. If you’re ready to take the next step in healing from abuse and would like to explore enrolling in the Beyond Surviving program, start by applying for a Discover Your Genuine Self Session.

Photo by x ) on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Rachel Grant

Rachel Grant is the owner and founder of Rachel Grant Coaching and is a Sexual Abuse Recovery Coach and M.A. in Counseling Psychology. She is also the author of Beyond Surviving: The Final Stage in Recovery from Sexual Abuse.  Based on her educational training, study of neuroscience, and lessons learned from her own journey, she has successfully used the Beyond Surviving Program since 2007 to help survivors of childhood sexual abuse who are beyond sick and tired of feeling broken and unfixable break free from the pain of abuse and finally move on with their lives.

www.rachelgrantcoaching.com

Self-care

It is vital to take time out for yourself in the build-up to Christmas. The stores and food markets are teeming with products and people. It can get a little wild out there, and it’s important to think about our own health. If you fall apart, then who’s going to wrap those presents and get the house ready for family and guests?

Have you had any time for yourself today? Do any of your family members or friends need support? Even a brief conversation to check in on someone who is struggling can mean so much to the other person.

Who is watching the kids in all the preparation mayhem? Do they have to tidy their bedroom for a long-awaited relative to come and sleep in their room? How are they feeling about it all? Do we even stop and listen?

For me, as a survivor of child abuse and trauma, the holiday season comes with mixed emotions every year. Now that I am an adult, I can enjoy the holidays with my family and see the excitement the festivities bring to my own children each year. Being a mom is a wonderful gift, and I treasure my kids every day of the year. The holiday season is also a reminder that not every child is as lucky as my kids. I was that child once, and I sometimes had the worst time of my life during the holidays because I was forced to see my bio-father, who was a sex offender, and so were his friends. I feel that I must write about these children because they still exist nowadays. Please keep an eye out for children who seem like they are not enjoying the holiday season this year. Don’t let them just slip away by doing nothing. If you see signs of abuse, you must report it. There are far too many children who are suffering from abuse, and the holiday season is especially a time to keep an eye out for anything that doesn’t seem right.

“I can only hope that we’ll one day wake up in a better world, where children are no longer being abused or mistreated.” ChildInsider.com

Our world has changed a lot since the 70’s and 80’s, when people would rather brush things away and ignore child abuse than face it and help a child. The stigma around talking about sex has changed in recent years. TV, films, and other media are open about sex and relationships. We have the internet and social media, where anyone with an internet connection can look up information and news. There is worldwide exposure to sexual abuse scandals being brought out into the open. People are beginning to talk about it more, but it is still not enough. Knowing that sexual abuse or any kind of abuse is happening in our society is one thing. Accepting that it is happening right now, here in your city or town, and doing something to stop it is another.

Do you have what it takes to stand up and help a child who is being abused? Do you know how to do it? Who to call?

The ChildHelp National Child Abuse Hotline 800-422-4453 is available 24 hours a day here in the US. 

In the UK, you can contact the NSPCC (National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children) Helpline by calling 0808 800 5000

In my opinion, if as many as one more child suffers from abuse the way I did, it is one child too many. We can prevent this from happening by being vigilant. Let’s try to stop these sexual criminals from hurting our most precious gifts – our children! Our future! Our everything! The joy of growing up in a nurturing and stable environment is something every child deserves.

Signs of child abuse:

A child who is being exposed to sexual abuse or any abuse will use coping mechanisms to survive the trauma in any way they can. I know, because I was an abused child throughout my childhood, but it doesn’t matter if the abuse happened just once or repeatedly. If a child has been abused, their lives will have changed, and so will their behavior. It can be a gradual or instant change. These are some of the behaviors that an abused child might display:

Trust
An abused child will not trust anyone and will be suspicious of new situations. They may seem hypervigilant and suspicious of anyone. A child who is being abused becomes very good at reading people around them and deflecting attention away from them.
Health
A child who is suddenly developing chronic headaches, feeling sick, or having urinary or STD infections is a sign that everything may not be well
Emotional outbursts
Abused children may come across as not being in control of their bodies; for example, they might display various emotions in quick succession, like anger followed by sadness followed by running away, almost like a traffic light is changing colors at an intersection. The same child may react very oddly to certain situations, like laughing if someone is hurt or starting to cry profusely at a bumblebee that is lying dead in the grass.
Posture/image
Watch how a child holds themselves, how they walk, and how they behave around other children. An abused child may seem unusually jittery and tense.
Language
Watch their language. What does it sound like? Would a normal 6-year-old use “those words,” or can you hear something strange? A child might start ‘making up’ stories and drawings of the abuse or making up characters who act like abusers. The child might use language that they have been exposed to that contains words a child should not know.
Physical contact
A child might suddenly hate physical contact or being touched and recoil if anyone touches them.
Hiding and unusual attachments to objects
A child might feel so scared and threatened that s/he hides. A child might be overly attached to a blanket, a pillow, or a teddy bear. Having something soft and tactile could be a small relief for a traumatized child. Pay attention to anything that “feels wrong.”

An older traumatized child may suddenly withdraw from everyone. Please pay attention to how this happens and what might have triggered it.

Pushing limits / hurting others/violence
An older child may be starting to break the limits. What happens if?… Destroying property and hurting others. A child might feel threatened and become paranoid. They may become enraged or distressed and be rough with toys or animals.
Terror
A child might suddenly get terrified of something that reminds them of their abusers/s. I was terrified of clowns and often had nightmares about clowns entering my room at night and hurting me. I also developed a phobia of snakes.
Crying
A child might start crying without a reason and not be able to stop, or become hysterical over nothing, or suddenly become angry at the sight of men with beards or someone with glasses. This could be an unconscious reaction to someone who reminds them of their abuser.

There are many ways that abuse manifests itself in children’s behavior, and it is our responsibility to act on anything that doesn’t see right. Children are all different, and the behavior one child displays is different from another. It depends on the child’s surroundings and where the abuse takes place to determine which coping strategies they will use. There is every chance that nothing is going on when children act out, but would you be willing to take that risk if that child was being abused?

Let us all enjoy the holiday season in a safe and happy environment.

Photo by Benjamin Wong on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Elizabeth Woods

For more about me: https://www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

Elizabeth Woods grew up in a world of brutal sex offenders, murderers, and inconceivably neglectful adults. Elizabeth is passionate about spreading awareness of what it is like to survive after trauma. She is the author of several books and has written her memoir, telling her childhood story: The Sex-Offender’s Daughter: A True Story of Survival Against All Odds, available on Amazon Kindle and paperback.

Elizabeth is also the author of “Living with Complex PTSD” and the Cedar’s Port Fiction series: “Saving Joshua”, “Protecting Sarah”, “Guarding Noah” and “Bringing Back Faith,” and “Restoring Hope,” available here: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0BCBZQN7L/allbooks?ingress=0&visitId=7e223b5b-1a29-45f0-ad9d-e9c8fdb59e9c&ref_=ap_rdr&ccs_id=931f96e2-c220-4765-acc8-cc99bb95e8bd

www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com/

No matter what you think, believe, feel, say, or do, there will be a percentage of people out there who disapprove, possibly vehemently disagree with what you do, and/or who you are

This essay reflects my attempt to understand precisely how and why I fear disapproval from others. The question came to me when I heard the idea that no matter what, a percentage of people will never agree with you. For the moment, put aside the fact that the game of percentages is the reality from which our world among humans is made. I still fear rejection, and I know I am not alone. The journey of this essay is my attempt to understand why I have been so limited in my life. It has been fear. The fear of criticism and the basic experience of rejection that occurs when someone is upset with me. It is challenging to be present and express oneself fully in all respects if we are constantly controlled by the fear of conflict with others. This is not intended to be a lecture or an educational piece on the topic, but rather a platform to awaken myself and any readers. This is a brief essay filled with ideas that I hope will prompt the reader to ponder. It is intended to spark a moment of reflection, allowing you to consider the ideas presented here. Perhaps a moment that could change your life, as I am attempting to do with my own.

No matter what you think, believe, feel, say, or do, there will be a percentage of people out there who disapprove, possibly vehemently disagree with what you do, and/or who you are. Yes, even to the point of raging against you vocally and possibly doing worse. So, we sit silently and cringe, afraid to behave at all in some cases. Alternatively, we can take the opposite extreme and behave boisterously as if we are wholly committed to our group’s norms, attitudes, and beliefs. To the point of sometimes being a bit hysterical.

What is the percentage for you? The turning point where you might give in to the majority group and suddenly adopt their thinking to avoid disapproval? When you see or fear it is now at 50.01% disapproval, do you suddenly reshape your thoughts and behavior to the “ever-evolving” majority’s percentage of approving expectations? Have you ever thought about this, the fact that you cannot escape disapproval by a percentage of people, no matter what? Think about that. No matter what you do, say, or think! The percentage of people is not as much a consideration of numbers, but more importantly, a matter of who exactly those people are who are important to you. Alas, for some of us, it is not only the identity of those people. It has become almost all people. Wow, what an emotional burden!

We are enculturated.

We are enculturated. Meaning we take on and become the norms and beliefs of our world around us, the environment in which we live, “our tribe.” It is as natural for humans as breathing air. We need to feel we are welcomed as part of a community. BELONGING, the need to be accepted by peers, is present in most of us, though it may not be a conscious process. It is a real, powerful, and invisible force.

What do I think? How do I behave? What do I feel? Why and how do I hide what I think, behave, and feel? I am an individual who fears anger, confrontation, and rejection from others. Too often in my life, I have found myself to be a chameleon, changing colors (fawning) in the face of differing opinions and attitudes of others. A people pleaser. A silent soul. I think I’m just one of the Silent Majority in life. What are the percentages? What percent of people feel like I do, fearful of being expressive for fear of doing or making a social gaffe? It is a deeply subconscious process that requires significant effort, thought, and attention to awaken to or change. That can be scary and potentially filled with anxiety.

Here is the bugaboo: something is seriously off. Something went haywire in my life. My reaction to another person’s disapproval and/or anger toward me is to think that something is simply wrong with me. As I look into the years of therapy and to the current moment of participation in therapy, there was trauma experienced in the moment of angry emotions confronting me from another. Trauma. Deep-seated, buried, unadulterated traumatic experience coming to life with every raised eyebrow, misperceived facial expression, or distinct angry behavior from another. Coming toward me, or at times just displayed by another in my presence. Either way, I experience an emotional event that borders on a severe trauma being relived, a trigger. Trauma in my past is something that is not clearly remembered. The recollections of some of my emotional and early physical abuse are vague. As I have discovered in individual therapy, the more diffuse and felt but unseen, the deeper and the more horrific the event that fills my nerve endings now, fifty-to-sixty-plus years later.

As with all my writings, and this one is no exception, the initial inspiration morphs beyond my original intent of the writing. I land where my inner guide directs me. I’ve come to realize that my understanding of percentages is a revelation about why I shouldn’t be concerned about disapproval from 49.9%. It turns out, as I have come to see, I was horribly traumatized in my childhood, at an early and vulnerable age.

It is not easy to come to terms with the subconscious processes that have terrorized and crippled one’s life, preventing it from flourishing. I’ve realized that trying to find an escape from inner torment by witnessing the percentages of a culture in conflicting duality does not work for me. I cannot think my way out of past learned emotional trauma. Believe me, my life has been a crystal-clear example of someone trying to heal emotional pain through magical thinking. Clarity of thought, in the form of a more accurate understanding of problems, is a step forward from a negative, unrealistic method of inner self-talk. Indeed, positive self-regard is a significant step forward, helping to mitigate and manage negative feelings. I am seeing that, more than positive self-talk, self-love is the avenue out of the internal mental illness I have lived with throughout my life.

One consequence of being traumatized by our core caregivers, usually mom and/or dad, is a deep-seated internalized mistrust. When in the presence of psychic and physical abuse, a child learns not to trust others, especially those in authority. The absence of unconditional love is the existential trauma in life, and you might say, of our time. All those tirades of screaming, hitting, and shaming terrorize children and could well leave a lasting mark that may forever change a person’s direction in life. It could leave them unable to trust anyone. If my primary source of affection (parent) abused me, knowingly or not, I may learn they cannot be trusted to love me, or worse yet, think love means being abused!

If my mother was unable to love me, to the extent that I did not ‘feel it’ as a child, that is certainly not my fault. Children do not misperceive the lack of love coming from a parent; instead, deep down, they feel unlovable. By intuitively knowing that love is absent, we blame ourselves. Mom would love me if I were not so… How do we, in the face of mistrust, with deep-seated subconscious fear of being rejected, find a healing love? When love from the outside is presented authentically or not, I have learned to think it is somehow not genuine. There is a con to it; it is fake, pretended, or acted. There is a “thought process” within them of “I should be loving towards this person,” that is going on, but it may or may not be ‘feelable’ to the person who has not experienced enough parental love. There is mistrust, and potentially, a numbness, which is unfortunate. But the world “is what it is,” as they say, and we must move on, facing reality as best we can.

How do I learn to love myself with the emotional lifelong dissociation and alienation from an abusive and narcissistic mother? Self-love. I can start by forgiving myself for the array of inappropriate behaviors that I have unwittingly shown to others. I can let myself off the hook for having an emotional engine that pushes me to eat more and more in an attempt to find comfort. I can try harder to accept myself as an overweight individual and attempt to be gentle with myself in losing weight. I can forgive myself for being emotionally shut down and come to understand what has happened to me to make me so stoic, emotionally frozen, and at times paralyzed from self-expression. It is OK to cry. Or in my case, it is OK to weep uncontrollably. Weeping is a part of reclaiming those feelings. I can understand now that my life has not been easy, and it was not by choice.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Jesse Donahue

*Copyright notice. All writings copyrighted and registered with the Library of Congress.

Therapy has helped improve my self-understanding as well as writing skills through journaling and essays. Although this writing journey began in later years, it has led to 70+ essays oriented around issues with CPTSD – a trauma disorder.

My writings, which include therapy notes, poems, novels (unpublished), and essays, are all a part of my ongoing personal therapy. Initially, the essays, intended for my therapist’s eyes only, began with exposing my thoughts, fears, and feelings, or the lack of, onto paper, a journal of therapy notes. Then, with fear overcome and via a personal decision, I shared them with the readers. *My thanks to Paul Michael Marinello, the editor of the CPTSD Foundation. My intent is to encourage readers to recognize traits in themselves and find (if desired) a therapist when they are willing and ready for that step. For some of us, it can be a long and challenging process, over extensive periods, to awaken to the unconscious issues that cause us to act out in life. Our behavior may seem like dancing to a buried, invisible cause we cannot directly see or confront. It is my sincere hope that my insights will assist the reader in the process toward reaching a deeper self-understanding.

Bringing the unconscious out into the light of self-awareness, understanding, and acceptance fosters self-love and the process of change.

 Jesse B. Donahue

*Type a keyword into the foundations search engine. (Jesse, Heart, Personal, Twelve, Bugaboo, etc.) Or, Type Jesse Donahue at The CPTSD Foundation on a Google search.

Published with the CPTSD foundation. Top 10 essays in order of number of views:

1.  ** Personal Honor, Integrity, Dignity, Honesty
2.  ** The Heart of the Matter
3.  * The Smoldering Embers of C-PTSD
4.  * The Hidden Bugaboo (Parts 1-4 of 4)
5.  Twelve Days Without Coffee
6.  Learned Helplessness
7.  Cast Out of Eden by Toxic Shame
8.  *Codependency – Overriding the Monster of Self-Hate
9.  The Emptiness of Yesterday
10.  Surfing the Light Through the Darkness

Characterized by a lack of desire or an inability to focus…

Here I go winging it, with no outline to follow. The development of this paper is a reflection of my life, characterized by a lack of desire or an inability to focus. The push to go forward without thoughtful planning, many would say, as does the voice in my head, “You should carefully plan before you begin writing.” But it seems I do not want to, indeed am resistant, even adverse to, succeeding? (Within this illogical “process” lies a deficiency of will, beyond mere laziness. It is a reflection of lacking a sense of personal power, or “permission,” that has left my life’s vehicle stuck on the side of the road.) This is equivalent to forgetting to get fuel before setting off in life.

In all too many moments, I feel powerless to go down the path I know I “should,” at this moment and throughout my life. I might be successful, I might become somebody of noteworthy recognition, if only I would focus on the moment. Yet the moment is a blur in time, a place I want to escape from, as I quickly and busily avoid any ‘conflicts’ that arise from engaging with others in life. For me to set out and fail from the beginning is a silent, hidden mission of dutifully surrendering my personal power, or my agency, over to my abuser. I have become powerless! Suddenly, I see a new mission and message, “finding and developing my lost and squashed personal power.” Loss of personal power is akin to “Learned Helplessness.” Life and personal success are about engagement in the world, using one’s personal power—a self-permission to succeed.

The moment is a blur in time…

All the suffering in my life, the constancy of moments spent trying to find a remedy for the symptoms of C-PTSD, has derailed me. I wrote a paper a while back where I boisterously decried the audacity of abuse from my mother in childhood. She has passed now, but my mostly unrecognized lifelong battle has been with personal disempowerment. Never daring to confront her openly for what she did to me. It strikes me now that was the depth of my hiding in life; (That paralysis toward facing my abuser. My cowering in the proverbial corner of my mind, hiding my “secret and repressed anger,” is a large part of my elusive neurotic symptoms.) Yet, it still shows a spark of life, having not completely succumbed. Depression, anxiety, phobias, and magical thinking are some of the symptoms of many who suffer from C-PTSD. It may be an imperative, specifically, working to “reclaim that loss of personal power toward your abuser.” To phrase that differently, learning to stand up for yourself. It is not simple. Many of us stand in front of our abuser and instantly revert to a powerless, helpless child. It is nothing to be ashamed of, and it is not our fault. Trauma can do that to a child.

The strength found in taking my abuser to task for their disturbing behavior towards me was a big step toward starting personal agency. Even if it was after she passed away, and written down as a personal expression of how I feel. Safety always comes first! Personally, I would never have shared that writing if she were still alive. The consequences could have been being cut off from my entire family and being disowned. We may want to, alone and/or in a therapist’s office, take the reins of steering our life, individuating from the abuser and their lack of permission. It has taken years since her death to find the strength to look at the tangled web of issues toward her, let alone stand up to her, for myself. The depth of accumulated trauma upon a soul’s “personal permission” toward self-empowerment can be staggering. The transgenerational buck stops with me! (Ha, famous last words.) Co-dependency requires us to remain powerless. Transcending to freedom does not. Freedom, the journey to it, requires ‘resurrecting’ one’s innate personal power, and the development of self-agency.

The loss of personal power can be related to the concept of “Learned Helplessness.” See my essay at the CPTSDfoundation.org titled “Learned Helplessness.” You can be the judge in comparing these two essays: https://cptsdfoundation.org/2024/02/14/learned-helplessness-jd/

Photo by julian mora on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Jesse Donahue

*Copyright notice. All writings copyrighted and registered with the Library of Congress.

Therapy has helped improve my self-understanding as well as writing skills through journaling and essays. Although this writing journey began in later years, it has led to 70+ essays oriented around issues with CPTSD – a trauma disorder.

My writings, which include therapy notes, poems, novels (unpublished), and essays, are all a part of my ongoing personal therapy. Initially, the essays, intended for my therapist’s eyes only, began with exposing my thoughts, fears, and feelings, or the lack of, onto paper, a journal of therapy notes. Then, with fear overcome and via a personal decision, I shared them with the readers. *My thanks to Paul Michael Marinello, the editor of the CPTSD Foundation. My intent is to encourage readers to recognize traits in themselves and find (if desired) a therapist when they are willing and ready for that step. For some of us, it can be a long and challenging process, over extensive periods, to awaken to the unconscious issues that cause us to act out in life. Our behavior may seem like dancing to a buried, invisible cause we cannot directly see or confront. It is my sincere hope that my insights will assist the reader in the process toward reaching a deeper self-understanding.

Bringing the unconscious out into the light of self-awareness, understanding, and acceptance fosters self-love and the process of change.

 Jesse B. Donahue

*Type a keyword into the foundations search engine. (Jesse, Heart, Personal, Twelve, Bugaboo, etc.) Or, Type Jesse Donahue at The CPTSD Foundation on a Google search.

Published with the CPTSD foundation. Top 10 essays in order of number of views:

1.  ** Personal Honor, Integrity, Dignity, Honesty
2.  ** The Heart of the Matter
3.  * The Smoldering Embers of C-PTSD
4.  * The Hidden Bugaboo (Parts 1-4 of 4)
5.  Twelve Days Without Coffee
6.  Learned Helplessness
7.  Cast Out of Eden by Toxic Shame
8.  *Codependency – Overriding the Monster of Self-Hate
9.  The Emptiness of Yesterday
10.  Surfing the Light Through the Darkness

This post is darker than my normal posts, but I feel it’s time to address it.

Fear.

How are you doing today? I mean, really. Are you having a good day, or a not-so-great day? I’m deliberately not saying the word “bad.” Bad is a word that is used way too often and comes with negativity.

I’ve already lived in a horrific reality, and I don’t want it to follow me into adulthood, nor do I want my kids to use the word bad for everything that isn’t going their way. So, instead of saying the word bad to convey how I’m feeling, I choose not so great among others.

I still live in fear…

When I cut ties with my bio-family, it took me years to start feeling safe again. I went from being alone and not talking to anyone to being comfortable around people. I was at college doing my teaching program, and I felt like I had life under control. This was the first time that I had ever felt okay around other people.

Then, just when I started feeling safe, I reached out to my mother. She, in turn, let me down in the worst possible way by revealing my married name and where we lived to my so-called father. It’s been over a decade since my mother’s unforgivable deed, and I still live with fear every day. The fear that he will kill me and my kids.

Yep, I said it out loud. I went there. I’ve been to therapy, and I still cannot shake it. The fear is there because mother told him where we live.

Living in fear does take its toll

I’m overprotective of my kids, and I don’t trust easily. I prefer doing everything myself. I’m also hypersensitive, but that’s who I am. I like being busy with my kids, and I enjoy my life as much as I can. I have my work and my MFA thesis. I try to be upbeat and happy, but I also feel tired of battling that fear every day.

Do you recognize any of this? Do you tell your loved ones how you really feel?

When you have lived with trauma and abuse, you will have good and not-so-great days. It’s part of surviving and moving on from those events. Healing takes time.

I know that I’m not alone in feeling like this. I hope that through our community on Medium, we can support each other and talk about how we feel.

My name is Lizzy, and I’m a mom, teacher, author, and mental health blogger. I write for those who don’t always feel that they have a voice. For more about me, my books, and articles, check out my website: www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

Support my writing, and buy me a coffee.

https://ko-fi.com/elizabe69245484here

Photo by Melanie Wasser on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Elizabeth Woods

For more about me: https://www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

Elizabeth Woods grew up in a world of brutal sex offenders, murderers, and inconceivably neglectful adults. Elizabeth is passionate about spreading awareness of what it is like to survive after trauma. She is the author of several books and has written her memoir, telling her childhood story: The Sex-Offender’s Daughter: A True Story of Survival Against All Odds, available on Amazon Kindle and paperback.

Elizabeth is also the author of “Living with Complex PTSD” and the Cedar’s Port Fiction series: “Saving Joshua”, “Protecting Sarah”, “Guarding Noah” and “Bringing Back Faith,” and “Restoring Hope,” available here: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0BCBZQN7L/allbooks?ingress=0&visitId=7e223b5b-1a29-45f0-ad9d-e9c8fdb59e9c&ref_=ap_rdr&ccs_id=931f96e2-c220-4765-acc8-cc99bb95e8bd

www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com/