You’ve walked through storms that tested every part of you, and you stood back up, with courage in your heart.

PTSD may have shaped part of your story, but it does not define who you are. You are still whole, still capable, and your light and strength are still in your heart — they have only been waiting for you to see them again.

On this path of recovery, there will be moments of grief, anger, and pain. Let’s not push these feelings away or keep them bottled up. At such times, it helps to sit together, speak with compassion, and support one another.

Despite the past, I want you to believe in yourself. The strength that carried you through the darkness is the same strength that can now guide you toward healing. You have the power to begin anew, to rebuild your life piece by piece into something peaceful, meaningful, and filled with joy.

There is no rush, healing moves at the pace of kindness. Just breathe. Take one small step, then another. Trust that each moment of courage counts, and every gentle choice you make for yourself is a quiet victory.

Leave the pain where it belongs, in yesterday. Open your heart to the possibility that tomorrow can feel lighter. You deserve happiness, love, and a life that feels like home.

You’ve survived the hardest parts already. Now, it’s time to live again: freely, bravely, and filled with hope. The future is yours to create, and it can be beautiful beyond measure.

You are now becoming whole in new and beautiful ways. Gently step into your own light, and trust that every day holds a chance for renewal. You deserve peace. You deserve love. You deserve the good life you’ve always dreamed of: because it’s still waiting for you.

I want you to know that I understand because I’ve walked that path too. You’re not alone in this journey. If you ever need someone to talk to, a voice that listens and truly believes in your courage — I’m here. Always.

With Love and Light,
Jeanne💗

Feature Photo Credit: UnSplash

Graphic Credit: Author Owned

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

Jeanne Jess

Having navigated trauma and its long-term effects myself, I understand how non-linear, layered, and deeply personal recovery can be. Every article here is written by me from the heart, based entirely on my own lived experiences and personal journey. The goal of my writing is to encourage all those who, like me, are living with a lifelong medical diagnosis, and everyone navigating difficult times in their lives. May my texts bring you comfort and encouragement. My website: https://www.janehealingangels.com/

www.janehealingangels.com/

Yes, because of my CPTSD, I was a people-pleaser. This was like a survival-mode I learned as a child. And that doormat syndrome was often painful for me, for many years. Until one day, I had had enough and decided to change. Here is what I learned:

Studies show that people-pleasing significantly increases the risk of burnout. People-pleasers are especially susceptible because their difficulty setting boundaries and their desire to be loved by everyone directly lead to chronic stress and emotional exhaustion.

Maybe you’re an empath, and perhaps you’ve often heard, “Oh, you’re so kind.” Many of us were raised to be good girls or good boys to earn our parents’ approval and affection. Nothing is more traumatic for a child than losing that parental love.

Children who experience love withdrawal when they make a mistake naturally become people-pleasers. What many don’t realize is that these patterns often lead to depression and chronic burnout later in life.

Being taught to be a good girl or boy as children turns people-pleasing into a learned, but deeply painful emotional pattern. At home, in church, and at school, the message was the same: we had to be kind and nice. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be loved and might even be rejected by our entire social circle, triggering primal survival fears in young hearts.

The roots of that chronic fear of rejection run deep and are triggered in every area of life, both private and professional. Naturally, we always do more than we’re asked to do, driven by that OCD-like need to keep everyone around us happy. This is where burnout and depression gently take root, growing over time when our efforts remain unreciprocated.

Yes, people will love you as long as you serve them in one way or another. The people-pleaser is often the best student, the most perfect secretary, the kindest boss, and, of course, the ideal parent. People like you because you’re always the first to help others.

But one day, the sky becomes clouded. You notice that weird feeling in the background and realize that people may be abusing your kindness: they aren’t there for you when you need them and don’t appreciate all your efforts. Often, we respond by working harder, trying harder, and performing better until we find ourselves in the doctor’s office, exhausted and perhaps diagnosed with depression.

There is a lasting impact of early approval‐seeking.

When you grow up trained to be a people-pleaser, it often looks on the outside as if everyone likes you; but they stop liking you as soon as you learn to say, “Sorry, no. I can’t help this time.” The more you establish healthy boundaries, the more they criticize you, accusing you of selfishness.

When a people-pleaser awakens and starts setting boundaries, their children often rebel because their parent suddenly says “no” as part of a healthy upbringing. Coworkers begin to gossip because they can no longer exploit your kindness and must handle their own tasks. Employees in your team, too, have to learn to respect their boss in earnest.

And, of course, all the groups that once welcomed you (as a volunteer, donor, or committee member) will let you go as soon as you stop paying with your time or money. They never truly cared about you, only about the resources they could extract.

Maybe, those so-called best friends, or even family members, will tell you that you’ve disappointed them lately, because as a people-pleaser you were their favorite trash bin for emotional issues. But since you learned to say “no” and you’re no longer as available as before, of course, they’re disappointed: they can’t use you for their narcissistic intentions anymore.

Now, another important point: as people-pleasers, we were often trained to forgive and taught that we should always remain kind and nice to those who hurt us. In many situations, this pattern is deeply harmful. It’s one of the main reasons so many of us end up feeling exhausted, depleted and depressed

Depending on the situation, yes, we may forgive, but we don’t have to stay in contact.

If you keep seeing toxic, negative, critical narcissists and other manipulative people, you’ll never move forward or reach your goals in life. If you feel worse after every conversation, that’s a clear sign it may be better to move on.

Like my grandfather used to say, “It is often wiser to spend a season in your own gentle company than to remain surrounded by those who do not truly see, honor, or respect your sacred light. When you lovingly release connections that no longer feel aligned, you create beautiful, open space for the Divine Universe to bring in people who genuinely cherish you.”

It’s wonderful to be kind and helpful – so long as it’s mutual and the appreciation is genuine, valuing you as a person rather than your performance. You are not a doormat or a trash bin for other people’s unresolved issues, jealousies, laziness, or frustrations. There is great relief on the other side of healthy boundaries, and sometimes going no-contact is simply the healthiest way to protect your peace of mind.

Warning signs you’re a doormat for others include chronic exhaustion and resentment, guilt when you say “no,” and feeling used or unappreciated. And the cost of continuing to “be good” often shows up as burnout, depression, and loss of identity, along with relationship imbalances at home and work.

It’s better to be alone for a short time than to stay with people who have no honest respect for you, who belittle, judge, and criticize you just to keep you pleasing them. When you let go of the wrong people, you create space for the divine universe to bring better people into your life.

The good news is that you can build a healthier tribe: because you deserve people who truly support you, respect your boundaries, and uplift your self-worth.

If this message resonates and you need help with a similar situation, feel free to reach out.
With warm regards,
Jeanne
💗

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

Jeanne Jess

Having navigated trauma and its long-term effects myself, I understand how non-linear, layered, and deeply personal recovery can be. Every article here is written by me from the heart, based entirely on my own lived experiences and personal journey. The goal of my writing is to encourage all those who, like me, are living with a lifelong medical diagnosis, and everyone navigating difficult times in their lives. May my texts bring you comfort and encouragement. My website: https://www.janehealingangels.com/

www.janehealingangels.com/

Five patterns repeatedly get conflated because they share visible features:

• Borderline Personality Disorder
• Complex PTSD with attachment dysregulation
• Trauma-bonded anxious attachment
• Chronic pain identity consolidation
• Long-term environmental instability

They overlap behaviorally. They diverge structurally. The distinction is not academic. It changes intervention strategy, prognosis, and ethical responsibility.

• Borderline Personality Disorder

Borderline Personality Disorder, as defined in the DSM-5-TR, is a pervasive pattern beginning by early adulthood and present across contexts. The instability is trait-level. It does not depend on one partner, one job, or one stressor. It follows the individual.

Symptoms may include:

• Frantic efforts to avoid abandonment
• Rapid relational idealization and devaluation
• Persistent identity disturbance
• Chronic feelings of emptiness
• Impulsivity in at least 2 self-damaging areas
• Recurrent suicidal behavior or self-injury
• Affective instability lasting hours to days

The diagnostic hinge is cross-context persistence. If the pattern appears in friendships, romantic relationships, work environments, and therapeutic relationships, even when objective stability exists, that points toward structural personality organization. Neuroimaging research demonstrates altered amygdala reactivity and frontolimbic regulation in many individuals meeting BPD criteria. That does not imply volitional instability. It reflects regulation circuitry that is chronically reactive.

• CPTSD with Attachment Dysregulation

Complex PTSD, as recognized in ICD-11, includes disturbances in self-organization layered onto classic PTSD symptoms. Attachment dysregulation is trauma-linked. It activates under perceived relational threat.

Symptoms may include:

• Emotional flashbacks without clear narrative recall
• Persistent shame and negative self-concept
• Hypervigilance in attachment contexts
• Oscillation between cling behavior and withdrawal
• Heightened sensitivity to rejection cues

The central question is conditionality. When safety becomes consistent, does the nervous system downshift? In CPTSD, it often does. Trauma-based dysregulation is state-dependent. When triggers decrease and relational predictability increases, stability improves. Functional imaging studies show trauma-related activation patterns that quiet under structured safety and trauma-focused treatment. That distinction is diagnostically significant.

• Trauma-Bonded Anxious Attachment

Trauma bonding is not a DSM diagnosis. It is a reinforcement pattern documented in attachment research and coercive control literature. Intermittent reinforcement conditions attachment intensity.

Symptoms may include:

• Obsessive rumination about an inconsistent partner
• Panic when contact decreases
• Relief and euphoria when contact resumes
• Tolerance of mistreatment to preserve connection
• Emotional collapse specific to one attachment figure

Outside that relationship, functioning may appear intact. Removing the intermittent reinforcement often results in a significant decrease in dysregulation. That differentiates conditioned attachment activation from pervasive personality instability. The nervous system has been reinforced into dependency. It has not reorganized at the trait level.

• Chronic Pain Identity Consolidation

Long-term pain reorganizes cognition, mood, and identity. Chronic pain alters neural circuitry involving the anterior cingulate cortex, insula, and prefrontal regions. Emotional regulation and pain processing share biological pathways.

Symptoms may include:

• Life organization centered on symptom management
• Social identity anchored in illness narrative
• Mood fluctuation tracking pain flares
• Reduced self-definition outside medical status

When pain stabilizes, mood volatility often decreases. When pain intensifies, irritability and relational strain increase. If emotional instability tracks somatic intensity, clinicians must evaluate neurobiological pain mechanisms before assigning personality pathology.

• Long-Term Environmental Instability

Chronic environmental instability shapes behavior through sustained stress exposure. Housing insecurity, financial unpredictability, community violence, and inconsistent caregiving generate adaptive hypervigilance.

Symptoms may include:

• Emotional reactivity under stress
• Distrust in relationships
• Difficulty with long-term planning
• Survival-based decision making
• Rapid escalation when resources feel threatened

When environmental stability improves, behavior frequently recalibrates. That trajectory differs from trait-based personality disorder. Stress biology research confirms that prolonged threat exposure alters cortisol regulation and threat perception. Remove chronic threat. Observe what changes.

The Shared Surface

All 5 conditions may present with attachment fear, mood shifts, relational conflict, and identity strain. Surface similarity is not structural equivalence. The differentiator is persistence across contexts, conditional improvement under safety, somatic linkage, or reinforcement pattern.

The Five Diagnostic Questions That Clarify

1. Does dysregulation appear across all relationships or only specific attachment bonds?
2. Does stability improve measurably when the environment stabilizes?
3. Does mood volatility track pain levels?
4. Is identity disturbance lifelong and cross-context persistent?
5. Does removal of intermittent reinforcement reduce symptoms?

These questions determine differential accuracy.

Applying personality disorder criteria to trauma-driven symptoms in the absence of cross-context persistence introduces diagnostic error. Failing to identify personality disorder when criteria are met delays targeted interventions such as Dialectical Behavior Therapy. Diagnostic precision determines treatment alignment and outcome trajectory.

When presentations appear similar, slow the process. Observe duration. Observe cross-context persistence. Observe what changes when safety changes. Structure reveals itself over time.

Begin with pattern. End with pattern.

——————————————————-

References

American Psychiatric Association. (2022). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed., text rev.). American Psychiatric Publishing.

Bremner, J. D. (2006). Traumatic stress: Effects on the brain. Dialogues in Clinical Neuroscience, 8(4), 445–461.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and recovery. Basic Books.

Linehan, M. M. (2015). DBT skills training manual (2nd ed.). Guilford Press.

Lutz, J., Jäger, L., de Quervain, D., Krauseneck, T., Padberg, F., Wichnalek, M., Beyer, A., Stahl, R., Zirngibl, B., Morhard, D., & Reiser, M. (2008). White and gray matter abnormalities in the brain of patients with fibromyalgia. Arthritis & Rheumatism, 58(12), 3960–3969.

World Health Organization. (2019). International classification of diseases for mortality and morbidity statistics (11th rev.).

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The body keeps the score. Viking.

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

Dr. Mozelle Martin

Dr. Mozelle Martin is a retired trauma therapist and former Clinical Director of a trauma center, with extensive experience in forensic psychology, criminology, and applied ethics. A survivor of childhood and young adulthood trauma, Dr. Martin has dedicated decades to understanding the psychological and ethical complexities of trauma, crime, and accountability. Her career began as a volunteer in a women’s domestic violence shelter, then as a SA hospital advocate, later becoming a Crisis Therapist working alongside law enforcement on the streets of Phoenix. She went on to earn an AS in Psychology, a BS in Forensic Psychology, an MA in Criminology, and a PhD in Applied Ethics, ultimately working extensively in forensic mental health—providing psychological assessments, intervention, and rehabilitative support with inmates and in the community. A published author and lifelong student of life, she continues to explore the relationship and crossovers of forensic science, mental health, and ethical accountability in both historical and modern contexts.

www.InkProfiler.com

Biology first. The nervous system treats non-existence as the ultimate threat. It does not debate; it signals. Heart rate up, breath shallow, vigilance on. That circuitry keeps toddlers from traffic and adults from ledges. It also interrupts acceptance. The alarms sound long before philosophy can speak.

Culture turns the volume up. In the modern West, we export dying to corridors and euphemize it in obituaries. We are competent at distraction and clumsy at endings. Youth is framed as competence; debility reads like failure. Shame follows when bodies do what bodies do.

Control is the hinge. Uncertainty—not nothingness—keeps people up at night. What will happen? How much will it hurt? Who will mishandle me? Who will forget me? Humans tolerate hardship when they can predict it and participate in it. That is why clear directives, a trusted proxy, and honest timelines lower death anxiety more reliably than slogans.

Pain matters because it colonizes the calendar. When days are counted in minutes between spikes, time stops being a container and becomes a trap. Competent palliative care exists to dismantle that trap. Hospice is not “giving up.” It changes the goal from cure to comfort, from more days at any cost to hours lived on your terms. When pain is controlled, many discover the fear wasn’t death; it was suffering without dignity.

Trauma changes the map. If you learned to read danger in a room before anyone else smelled it, you already live with mortality in your mouth. The body has rehearsed loss a thousand times. For some, that rehearsal makes the exit less frightening—hard parts already done. For others, the unknown is wired as intolerable, so any loss of control re-ignites old fires. Both responses are coherent. Neither is a character flaw.

Attachment complicates the picture. People often fear leaving more than leaving life. Who will care for the child, the dog, the work that isn’t finished? That’s not fear of death; that’s accountability. Unfinished business keeps brains awake. Ordinary acts—making a will, labeling passwords, writing the overdue letter—are anti-anxiety medicine. They don’t erase grief. They anchor it.

Moral injury adds weight. When life has included harm—done, witnessed, or endured—death can feel like an audit. Most aren’t afraid of divine judgment; they’re afraid of meaninglessness. We want suffering to have purchased something. Even modest purpose—my story might spare the next person—shrinks the unknown. Purpose doesn’t remove fear. It gives it direction.

Acceptance rarely arrives by argument. It arrives by exposure to reality that isn’t sentimental or cruel. Sit with someone whose end is well-managed medically, respected legally, and seen relationally. Watch them choose what to eat, what to wear, who enters the room, when the music starts. Notice that love still functions in small square footage. Goodbyes can be skilled.

Many remain terrified because they have seen the opposite: chaotic endings, confused families, missing paperwork, out-of-date DNRs, clinicians constrained by liability, faith leaders promising what medicine can’t deliver, physicians promising what biology won’t allow. People remember fluorescent light, not the face. Their fear is a record of failures.

Now the group that rarely gets named. The ready ones. Not suicidal—just ready. They are not chasing death; they are done negotiating with chronic disappointment and lifelong threat. Relief is the wish, not disappearance. It sounds like: “If my exit came, I wouldn’t fight it.” That stance is often mislabeled as depression. Sometimes it is. Often it’s trauma-adapted fatigue.

For clinical clarity, a few distinctions help.
• Intent vs. ideation: passing thoughts occur in CPTSD; intent has architecture—means, timeline, steps.
• Relief-seeking vs. self-destruction: the wish is for pain to stop, not for the self to cease.
• Agency intact: many “ready” people still keep promises, protect others, and avoid collateral harm.

This posture grows in predictable soil. Years of startle, scanning, and bracing teach the body that calm is a trap and vigilance is love. Sleep rarely drops anchor. Ordinary errands require tactics. Relationships feel like weather. “Ready” is what happens when the engine can’t idle and the driver is tired of white-knuckling the wheel.

What helps isn’t pep talk. It’s load reduction without a full-time emergency.
• Sleep that sticks: consistent lights-out, morning light, stimulant timing you can actually keep.
• Threat math that pencils out: reduce avoidable exposures—noise, chaos, volatile people—and add predictability where you can’t reduce.
• Micro-agency: dense, daily choice—what to eat, when to move, which room to work in, who gets the first hour.
• Competence moments: tasks with a clear finish—repaired hinge, balanced checkbook, finished paragraph.
• Witnessing without audit: one person who can hear “I’m ready” without panic or prosecution lowers its charge.

Risk can shift quickly. New grief, sudden humiliation, substance use, access to means, or loss of protective obligations can flip a posture into a plan. That is the moment to tighten the net—remove or lock means, call in steadier adults, use urgent care or 988—fast and without drama.

Beyond trauma care, some scaffolding reduces death anxiety for nearly everyone. Provide safety for the body, predictability for the calendar, honesty for relationships, and paperwork with teeth. Symptom control should be aggressive and ethical. Plans should be shared with the people who must use them. Language should say the quiet part plainly: I am dying; he is dying; we are in borrowed time. Documents should be findable in 60 seconds, not after a two-hour rummage.

Ritual helps when it’s chosen, not imposed. Some want prayer. Some want paperwork. Some want one last drive past the street where a parent taught them to ride a bike. Grief is specific. Respect is granular. The smallest accurate goodbye beats the grandest abstract one.

Words matter. Stop calling hospice quitting. Call it changing the goal. Don’t promise everything will be fine. Promise we won’t abandon you. Retire, there’s nothing more we can do. Say there is a lot we can do, starting with your comfort and your choices. Words don’t cure, but they ventilate a room that’s running out of air.

As for the black box—the after—certainty claims are above my pay grade. Many people at the end report presence, peace, a loosening. These don’t need to be proven to have value. The body often knows how to leave better than we know how to let it.

• If you are not afraid to die, you are not broken. You may be finished pretending invincibility is a virtue.
• If you are terrified, you aren’t childish. You may be honest about wanting pain to be optional and endings to be kind.

Both truths fit in the same room, so make the room ready.

• Write the letter you’ve been avoiding.
• Choose the proxy.
• Say the things that you feel must be said.
• Put the playlist in order.
• Eat what tastes like a victory.

When alarms go off, let biology do its job and let meaning do yours.

If your stance begins to shift from “ready” into organizing an exit, call or text 988 from anywhere in the USA for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline or go to the nearest emergency department. Outside the U.S., use your local emergency number and locations.

Sources

Ernest Becker — The Denial of Death
Irvin D. Yalom — Staring at the Sun
Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg, Tom Pyszczynski — The Worm at the Core
Atul Gawande — Being Mortal
Judith Herman — Trauma and Recovery (updated edition)
Shaili Jain — The Unspeakable Mind
BJ Miller and Shoshana Berger — A Beginner’s Guide to the End
American Academy of Hospice and Palliative Medicine
National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization

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

Dr. Mozelle Martin

Dr. Mozelle Martin is a retired trauma therapist and former Clinical Director of a trauma center, with extensive experience in forensic psychology, criminology, and applied ethics. A survivor of childhood and young adulthood trauma, Dr. Martin has dedicated decades to understanding the psychological and ethical complexities of trauma, crime, and accountability. Her career began as a volunteer in a women’s domestic violence shelter, then as a SA hospital advocate, later becoming a Crisis Therapist working alongside law enforcement on the streets of Phoenix. She went on to earn an AS in Psychology, a BS in Forensic Psychology, an MA in Criminology, and a PhD in Applied Ethics, ultimately working extensively in forensic mental health—providing psychological assessments, intervention, and rehabilitative support with inmates and in the community. A published author and lifelong student of life, she continues to explore the relationship and crossovers of forensic science, mental health, and ethical accountability in both historical and modern contexts.

www.InkProfiler.com

Why the edge can feel unsafe

Humans did not evolve on memory foam in locked bedrooms. For most of our history, we slept on the ground, in caves, in huts with thin doors. Exposed limbs meant exposed entry points. Predators target extremities and the neck because access is easier. The nervous system solved that problem by favoring positions that protect the core: curl, cover, and tuck. That is not fear. It is pattern recognition preserved across generations. The amygdala still scans in the background during sleep, and it does not retire just because you purchased a better mattress.

Evolutionary memory that is still on duty

Even today, the brain runs a quiet night watch. On the first night in an unfamiliar place, sleep becomes asymmetric; one hemisphere remains more alert while the other rests. Laboratory work has demonstrated this first-night effect with imaging that shows a built-in vigilance system holding partial guard. That is biology, not superstition, and it helps explain why the edge of a bed in a new setting can feel like a cliff rather than a cushion.

Trauma history changes the map

Trauma shifts sleep from rest to strategy. People with childhood abuse, severe neglect, or control-based punishment often adopt positions that prioritize mobility, concealment, or both. Some sleep near the edge with one leg ready to move because escape has been coded as necessary. Others cannot tolerate uncovered limbs at all and cocoon under blankets even in warm rooms, not for comfort but for defense of the areas perpetrators once accessed. These choices are rarely conscious. They are solutions installed by experience and maintained by a threat-biased nervous system.

Posture, perception, and what the research suggests

Sleep posture correlates with emotional states in population studies and clinical reviews. Fetal-style sleepers more often report higher stress and adverse life events. Supine sleepers show a higher association with sleep paralysis in several samples. Side and edge positions vary; for some, the choice is airflow and spinal ease, for others, it is a safety cue learned a long time ago. None of this proves a single rule. It does support what clinicians observe: position is not random for many survivors.

Temperature, physiology, and learned associations

Feet are fast radiators. Specialized vessels in the hands and feet move heat quickly, so a foot outside the covers can lower body temperature and help with sleep onset. Biology does not operate in a vacuum, though. If cold feet were paired with fear, isolation, or punishment, the same sensation can function as a warning rather than a comfort. The body votes based on memory more than on textbook physiology.

Practical steps that respect biology

Start with observation rather than force. Notice how your body positions itself in the first moments of waking and the last moments before sleep. Those are honest windows. Make small experiments without pressure. If you want to test more exposure, begin with a toe or ankle rather than a full limb and see what the body permits. Do not copy someone else’s version of calm. One person sprawls because their system is quiet; another curls because their system is careful. Adjust the room before you try to adjust your biology. Lower the bed, soften the lighting, and set a temperature that signals safety. Some people settle with breathable sheets and a light-weight throw; others require no weight at all. There is no universal fix. The point is to give the nervous system current evidence that the environment is safe in the present day.

Final thoughts

Edge anxiety is not drama, and it is not immaturity. It is a living record of what kept people safe. If your legs lock tight or you pull the blanket over your head every night, that is not a flaw. It is survival programming that has not yet been given a stable reason to retire. Whether you sleep centered like a sandbag or hold the perimeter like a lookout, the pattern makes sense once the history is named. Your brain did not forget what life taught it, especially at night.

References

Tamaki M, Bang JW, Watanabe T, Sasaki Y. Night watch in one brain hemisphere during sleep associated with the first-night effect in humans. Current Biology. 2016;26(9):1190-1194.
Jalal B, Romanelli A, Hinton DE. Sleep paralysis in Italy: frequency, symptoms, and the role of cultural interpretation. Consciousness and Cognition. 2017;51:298-305.
Suni E, Chen W, Jungquist C, et al. Sleep position and mental health: a scoping review. Sleep Health. 2017;3(6):460-467.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 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.

Dr. Mozelle Martin

Dr. Mozelle Martin is a retired trauma therapist and former Clinical Director of a trauma center, with extensive experience in forensic psychology, criminology, and applied ethics. A survivor of childhood and young adulthood trauma, Dr. Martin has dedicated decades to understanding the psychological and ethical complexities of trauma, crime, and accountability. Her career began as a volunteer in a women’s domestic violence shelter, then as a SA hospital advocate, later becoming a Crisis Therapist working alongside law enforcement on the streets of Phoenix. She went on to earn an AS in Psychology, a BS in Forensic Psychology, an MA in Criminology, and a PhD in Applied Ethics, ultimately working extensively in forensic mental health—providing psychological assessments, intervention, and rehabilitative support with inmates and in the community. A published author and lifelong student of life, she continues to explore the relationship and crossovers of forensic science, mental health, and ethical accountability in both historical and modern contexts.

www.InkProfiler.com

Life had taken an unexpected turn, and I was scared – terrified, really – that I wouldn’t be able to support myself. Living on my own again was harder than I imagined, and the future felt like a huge question mark.

Would I ever fall in love again? Would I be okay?

At times, I felt broken, unwanted, and deeply alone.

Daily life was a mix of small blessings and heavy anxiety. I was working as a nanny, and thank goodness for the kids’ naps, because that was often the only time I could let myself cry. The family I worked for was wonderfully supportive, and I was trying to build new friendships – but there was a lot of quiet loneliness in between.

Anxiety kept me stuck in subtle but powerful ways.

Some days it was hard to leave the house.

Dating felt terrifying – I carried big fears about being betrayed again.

My mind was in a constant loop of “No one will ever love me” and “I’m going to end up homeless.”

The turning point came in the most ordinary of places: a park, watching ducks. I remembered the old saying about how ducks look calm on the surface, but underneath their little legs are paddling like crazy.

That’s exactly what I felt – going, going, going, but not releasing the fear that had my chest so tight. In that moment, I realized enough was enough. I didn’t want to live life in panic any longer.

The process of reclaiming calm wasn’t instant – but it was doable.

I began focusing on the truth: I had faced challenges and losses before, and I could handle this too.

I started practicing positive anticipation – training myself to look for what could go right, not just what could go wrong. That little mindset shift became a lifeline.

Today, anxiety shows up differently. It’s an alarm, not a jailer, reminding me, “Hey, you’re focusing only on the future and expecting the worst. Challenge that.”

I’m no longer stuck. I have freedom. I can look ahead and feel inspired, rather than paralyzed. If you’re feeling trapped by anxiety right now, know this: you’ve got this. And you don’t have to do it alone.

You can start small – just noticing the fear, acknowledging it, and then taking one brave step. Over time, you’ll find the space to create the life you truly want.

Take a deep breath today and remember: even small steps count. You’re capable of more than your anxiety tells you – and I’m here to help you burst that fear and step into the life you’re meant to live.

With you in it,

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 Lawrence Krowdeed on Unsplash

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

In the middle of what I would describe as emotional carnage

A lot of the support we seek for anxiety, whether it be a podcast, a blog, or a book, often comes from an educational/informative standpoint. This is very useful when we want to develop a better understanding of our emotional well-being and how we can restore balance. However, I have taken the brave steps to write while I am in the middle of what I would describe as emotional carnage.

As you might have seen, my website has a plethora of blogs, ranging from more entertaining to informative, educational, and spiritual. I use the word “brave” for myself, not least because I’m learning to shift my internal dialogue, using positive words of self-love. I also describe writing in this way as courageous because I do so with fear, uncertainty, and an element of flatness. That is the best way I can describe it. But I considered how it might feel if I were to read about somebody else struggling to survive severe anxiety and stepping up, showing up, and creating. I know that I would feel less alone. I would be inspired to take one step in front of the other, and I would witness another person transmuting their pain.

An incessant dialogue all about my past, my future, my right now

So here I am, on a Monday afternoon, having spent the morning working, and counting my exhalations between each patient, making a chanting noise as my breath leaves my body. I started the day tired, having woken at 03:00. I silently lay in my bed, fighting the tirade of panic attacks, each lasting approximately 30 seconds, before I managed to talk myself down (in my head!). Then I lay for 20 minutes, with a train of thoughts, and an incessant dialogue all about my past, my future, my right now, my lack of sleep, what time it is, was, will be, if I ever fall asleep.

If you didn’t have a headache, you might now. It’s incredible how focused and wired the brain is during fight/flight in the dead of night (another poem?). There are few certainties in life, but one is that sleep will not come when the traffic in your head is like the M1 during rush hour. Night-time is also the loneliest, as your perception deceives you into thinking that you are the only person awake. Of course, in reality, half the world is awake, miles and miles away.

I am convinced that there is a volume button somewhere that, when you have complex PTSD, is turned to max, making your thoughts fast, furious, and in stereo for no one but you. I think the fears I experience when I am dealing with insomnia are that I will not cope the next day. This then has a snowball effect, leading me to a week of not coping, then a month, to leaving my job, and falling behind on mortgage payments. Catastrophizing. My brain is highly skilled in this art, especially when it has nothing else to do. Meanwhile, I am desperately searching for a peaceful corner of my mind to sit in, breathe quietly in, and return to sleep.

Every time I think I have found this little space, when the panic has been abated, the pulse has settled, moments few pass, before I feel the hot water travel up my spine into my neck, my head pulsate, my chest tighten, my stomach knot and the thoughts come racing back, like a hose being switched on full blast.  I now can’t understand the theory that thought leads to emotion. Perhaps my subconscious mind is so wired to panic that there is a short circuit straight to raw terror.

I wanted to write this blog for myself and my website visitors. I am as much a learner as you all are with regard to healing trauma. I wanted to return to this article in a future self, and be reassured that I did cope. With the day, the week, and the month. Evidence. The logical brain can be activated during panic, with work and persistence. If it wires together, it fires together, so says my therapist about neuroscience.

The more I count my breaths during panic, and the more I chant during exhalations (as one example of bringing down anxiety), the more this behaviour will become the short circuit that I need the panic to default to.  This gives me hope, and it should for you, too. The more you activate new behaviours, new internal dialogues, the more you start to shift old belief patterns.

I have talked in my head, we all do! Remember the article about the voice in our head? I challenged its identity! Who cares who’s talking, as long as we change the script? For example, in the middle of the early hours, I told myself, “I am safe and this will pass, breathe until it does”. I kept saying this in my head. Eventually, it did pass. It came back. I repeated.

As I finish this piece of writing, I say to you all, I have no clue how many more panic attacks I might have in the next twenty-four hours or weeks. All I can say is that I am determined. I am fighting. I am facing each day. It is the hardest work I have ever done. It is the most I have ever felt. I don’t know what the future holds, but like I’ve written in so many blogs, we only have right now. Last night and this morning are as far in the past as a hundred years ago in terms of accessing these experiences.

Each day is new. Each morning we are new.  We can allow ourselves the hope of this newness. That we are a stronger version of the person we were yesterday. The challenges from the past have provided us with the skills we need now. Every day that we work on emotional regulation, we invest in the peace of tomorrow.  Sweet dreams.

Photo by Josh Hild 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 Wilkinson

“Be careful whom you trust; evil cloaks itself in many forms.”

What is love if it doesn’t hurt, or like in my case, crash with a whimper? Perhaps your first crush was like mine? Nick was a 20-something Anglo-Indian with Bobby Deol’s looks, John Travolta’s swagger, and an angelic, disarming purity. We met on a rainy day outside his place; cousin Martin played matchmaker. Me, a rebellious teen with a sassy, blunt bob, shook hands with this shy guy whose guileless grin hit like a thunderbolt. Then he spoke, and it all went downhill — his voice was a bizarre mix of Sachin Tendulkar’s soft drawl and Michael Jackson’s high-pitched lilt. Although I was a die-hard MJ fan, I was gutted. Nope, not my vibe, despite my love for Jacko’s voice.

Jokes aside, all humans are creatures of habit. Our routine is sacrosanct, and so are our friends, family, and community. But what happens if this fragile thread of trust breaks? Much like the Garden of Eden, where roses bloom, you will find thorns. The past is engraved into our DNA as unspoken codes, known as epigenetic trauma.

Trauma from abuse and neglect creates CPTSD, unseen scars that affect both victims and future generations.

The Boomerang!

When you heal from an abusive childhood and CPTSD, it becomes imperative to find opportunities to recover through healthy gene expression by reversing toxic epigenetic patterns. My friend Bella has been through so much pain and trauma; it hurts her even as an adult. Her mother was a stunning single mother living in a small town who attracted many suitors. Unfortunately, she chose an unworthy man, a balding sadist whose charm concealed his vicious nature. Bella, barely 6 years old, immediately recognized that he was someone who made her uncomfortable—a predator in disguise. While her mother, blinded by love, saw his viciousness as humor and his control as love.

The False Pillars of Trust

We all lean on a support system, believing they’ll protect us. But pillars crumble, and Bella’s stepdad was no pillar. Meanwhile, her mother demanded that the siblings call him “Dad” before vows were even exchanged.

This situation resembles those who believe, “if you pretend it doesn’t exist, it will all just blow away!” The red flags were obvious if only her mother had opened her eyes.

The Predator’s Playground

One dusk, in her school playground, after everyone had left, the predator struck, forcing a humiliating punishment for being defiant. Right there before her “mother’s” eyes, he asked the 6-year-old Bella to roll down her pants and air her shame to the elements. If she didn’t abide by the ignominy, her ears would be boxed, taunted, or worse. So the scared little girl did so as speedily as she could, turning 360 degrees in a hurry, lest someone catch a glimpse of her unmentionables and laugh at her disgrace. The bald Lilliputian bully thought it was funny. As time rolled on, he proceeded to demean little Bella every day. So much so that she hated being around her mother or him. Then, finally, one day, the little girl put her foot down and threw a tantrum. As they say, bullies hate being called out.

And so that put a stop to the mortification for some time. But the tormentor found other ways to hurt her. The nightmare grew when he married her mother, finding new ways to subvert—locking up Bella, exploiting her fears and phobias, and thrashing her for minor mistakes. Her sibling stood by her, helpless but loyal, enduring the same.

Their mother never questioned. The sadist thrived on this pain; his cruelty became a twisted game. Bella grew moody and withdrawn, her childhood stolen by a man who cloaked perversion in parenting. Even when the siblings became adults, when he returned from his “overseas job,” his harassment evolved—unwelcome touches, suggestive innuendos, all disguised as fun. Relatives turned a blind eye, abetting the crime with silence. What is worse, we may ask—the predator or those who let him roam unchecked?

Pamela Calls Out the “Peeping Tom”

My friend Pam was eleven when she visited her hometown for a wedding. She stayed at her Uncle John’s mansion. Pam loved playing with her gang of little cousins, stirring mischief amid the wedding chaos. One day, while climbing the mansion roof, they caught her uncle John’s youngest son, Nathan, 16 and notorious, sprawled like a snake, peeping into a bathroom window. Pam’s outraged scream rallied the family, their racket drawing the aunts. Nathan was thrashed, his name forever tainted. Later visits to her uncle John’s had the women bathing with extra caution. Nathan’s married now, but do the ladies in the family trust him? Never.

Father Bob’s Redemption

All my life, I have been inspired by the Australian Roman Catholic priest Father Bob, or Robert John Maguire. He was no stranger to abuse and neglect. Born into poverty, his childhood reeked of alcohol and violence, his father’s fists bruising both mother and son. Orphaned by fifteen, losing his sister to tuberculosis at eleven, Father Bob carried scars deeper than flesh. Yet, those wounds didn’t break him; they forged a priest with a rebel’s heart, a champion for the forgotten. He was a man who turned pain into purpose, serving the marginalized with a fire no abuser could snuff out.

The Unending Trauma: An Anarchist’s Creed

Writing this cuts deep, so I shroud it, shielding the raw ache of my own memories. I’m familiar with darkness. As a paradox of pragmatism and rebellion, I always speak my mind. Life has taught me to confront truths. Scars make us realize that trust is earned. Bella’s challenging childhood didn’t break her; instead, she emerged strong, building a life filled with family, community, and a successful career. She learned to forgive—not just her abusers, but herself. Her journey mirrors that of Father Bob Maguire, whose upbringing in poverty and violence shaped him into an advocate for the marginalized. Both their experiences transformed pain into resilience and empathy.

Rewriting the Epigenetic Script

Epigenetic trauma is a silent phantom in our blood, passing pain across generations. Healing doesn’t erase these scars—it transmutes them, forging resilience, redemption, and forgiveness to break the cycle.

1. Awareness: Name the Ghost. Healing begins by confronting the past.

2. Re-regulating the Body: Alter your stress-related genes through meditation, exercise, and breathwork. This will ease anxiety and calm the nervous system.

3. Rewriting the Narrative: Change your story with therapy to transform from victim to survivor.

4. Crafting a New Epigenetic Landscape: When you regulate your lifestyle, you reshape your genes.

5. Breaking the Karmic Cycle: Exploring advocacy work can help. Many survivors of abuse and rape have found healing in the sharing of stories.

Final Thoughts: The Long Road Ahead

Intergenerational trauma is woven into our DNA through epigenetics and shapes who we become. Researchers have unpacked its neurobiological toll, offering sharp intellectual clarity. As for me, Mark Wolynn’s “It Didn’t Start with You” ignited my own CPTSD journey. Parents and children bear the physical, emotional, and psychological scars of past trauma, linked to disorders like depression, PTSD, and chronic fatigue syndrome.

Animal studies reveal early stress rewires brain regions like the hippocampus, impairing cognition. Science shows us that lifestyle and therapy can shift gene expression. You may not be able to erase your past but you can rewrite your story, and heal your darkest shadows for the generations that come after you. It is time to find your path—whether through art, expression, service, community, reading, or therapy—and rewrite your own destiny.

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Names of people have been changed to protect their identities. 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.

References and sources:

NCBI

PMC

Psychology Today

Verywell Mind

Johns Hopkins Medicine

Photo by digitale.de 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.

Jenney Clark

Jenney Clark is an Indian author and poet, best known for her book “Don’t Be Afraid to Love.” She has published eight books, including “Magic of the Ancients,” and hosts a podcast titled “Awakened Souls.” After leaving a successful job in the service industry, she pursued her passion for writing and became a life coach. Raised in a small town in India she discovered her psychic abilities at a young age and developed a strong interest in Tarot, astrology and numerology. She enjoys connecting with a diverse range of friends, including artists and writers and lives in a cozy “cubby hole” in Hyderabad with her dog, along with her beloved books and music

jenneyclark.com/

Sometimes, these frameworks become part of the same toxic systems you’re trying to escape—systems that demand conformity over authenticity, achievement over feeling, and external validation over inner truth. You’ve heard their voices your whole life:

• “Do as I say, not as I do.”
• “Memorize this formula, and you’ll pass.”
• “Our way is the only way; don’t question it.”
• “Take this pill, follow this plan, trust this authority.”
• “Success means college, job, marriage, house, kids, retirement—then you can live.”
• “People like you don’t challenge the status quo; they fade away.”

These messages, burned into the fabric of your being, drown out your inner voice. But true balance, sovereignty, and freedom lie within you, not in external rules or prescriptions. Going within means rediscovering your intuition, your truth, and your unique path, leading to an unwavering footing. Here’s how to begin.

Steps to Go Within

1. Choose Your Path: Going within is personal. You don’t need a meditation cushion or a guru’s approval. Maybe you find stillness walking in nature, swimming laps, or singing at the top of your lungs. Perhaps it’s clapping, laughing, or yelling to release pent-up energy. Experiment with what grounds you in the present moment and reconnects you to your inner self.
2. Feel Without Judgment: When you connect to the present, notice the energy in your body, often around your heart. If judgmental thoughts arise (I’m not good at this, I’m wasting time), acknowledge them gently and let them pass. Return to the feeling, the breath, the moment. There’s no right or wrong way to do this.
3. Listen for Your Inner Voice: Breathe deeply. Is there a message, an emotion, or simply a sensation? It might be subtle or profound. Trust that this experience is sacred, yours alone, and safe. Your thoughts, feelings, and emotions are valid, even if they’ve been dismissed before.
4. Embrace Your Natural Gift: Going within is a human birthright, often devalued by systems that prioritize productivity over presence. Allow yourself this time. It’s safe to explore, to feel, to be.

Why It Matters

Going within isn’t about mastering a technique or checking off a self-help box. It’s about opening to your inner wisdom, free from the noise of external expectations. From this place, you can discern what serves you and what doesn’t. You can reject toxic systems—whether they’re societal norms, rigid programs, or inherited beliefs—and define what’s meaningful on your terms.

Your Next Step

Today, take a few minutes to try going within. Find a quiet space, or move in a way that feels alive to you. Breathe, feel, and listen. Notice what arises without forcing an outcome. This small act of turning inward is a radical step toward freedom.

You are enough. You have value and purpose. Your path is yours. And your inner voice is waiting to gently guide you home.

About the Author

Susan Gold is a renowned author and transformationalist guiding individuals toward self-discovery and empowerment. She specializes in helping people break free from limiting systems, enabling them to uncover their innate abilities and embrace a life driven by inner authenticity.

Through her YouTube channel, “Inspiration for Transformation,” Susan shares valuable insights and practical wisdom. Her series, Gold Conversations, features real-life stories of individuals who have transcended unfulfilling systems to create meaningful, purpose-driven lives. One standout episode that reflects this article features her conversation with Jessica Conway, who reshaped her career to align with her ideal lifestyle—a compelling discussion you can watch here.

Photo by Ian Stauffer 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.

Susan Gold

Contributor Susan Gold is an author and transformationalist. After growing up in a toxic family system, she now helps others through similar trauma, leading with heart and love. Her YouTube video posts are at: https://www.youtube.com/@susangoldismagical

Complex trauma survivors learned, likely early on, that people can’t be trusted — people aren’t safe, and they haven’t met your emotional needs. The history includes many let downs — those who were supposed to be safe and keep you safe, teach you to trust and have your needs met, provide secure attachment didn’t — and it impacted your life in ways that may continue into adulthood. Therefore, you had to find a way to survive, and it’s likely you have found creative ways to cope — making isolation (or even constant company) a survival strategy.

Do you fear getting close to others?

Someone who is using isolation as a survival or coping mechanism may say things like, “I like to be alone,” “I’m not really that social,” or “I don’t need a lot of friends” — even if, deep down, they crave connection. Understandably, based on their history, they find it safer to be self-reliant and not vulnerable with other people – other people have hurt them; being ‘social’ and ‘together’ feels too risky.

Sadly, isolation is becoming easier.

The COVID-19 pandemic and the subsequent increase in the virtual nature of our world have allowed for isolation to become more commonplace. It is easier to stay distant — texting instead of calling, emailing instead of seeing someone. This isolation also leads to people being more socially anxious and awkward (we are seeing this especially with young people)! Now, isolation isn’t just a coping method for trauma survivors, it’s also fueling more trauma (mental health issues, addiction and other maladaptive coping strategies) and preventing connection — even though connection is how we heal trauma.

And it’s not just those who are isolating who are attempting to cope with trauma…

On the flipside, are you afraid to be alone?

Not all trauma survivors want to be alone. Some desperately long for attachment and can’t tolerate being alone because it’s too scary and triggering. Solitude brings up the pain of abandonment, rejection, and never having their emotional needs met. They may constantly book their schedules with social events, participate in everything, and do whatever is necessary to always be in the company of others (even if the ‘others’ aren’t safe or healthy people).

Trauma survivors tend to go one way or the other: isolation or constant company.

If you’re a trauma survivor, it’s likely you relate to one of these extremes:

1. People hurt you, and you feel safer alone. While deep inside, you may long for connection, it feels too dangerous. This sometimes leads to loneliness, depression, anxiety, and the use of additional coping mechanisms like drinking, drugs, self-harm, or binge eating to emotionally self-regulate.
2. Being alone feels terrifying, and you avoid it at all costs. People didn’t meet your emotional needs, and you desperately crave connection. This sometimes leads to being with people who aren’t safe, having relationships that aren’t healthy, or taking part in behaviors that don’t make you feel good, like drinking, drugs, sex, or food restriction. And sometimes you still feel alone, even when you’re around lots of people.

Both extremes can lead to further trauma and prevent healing. These behaviors of extreme isolation or constant company and the fears that go with both for trauma survivors can also be categorized as part of a BPD diagnosis.  As a result of trauma, people act in ways that they think will help them survive — which is why we need a more trauma-informed view of borderline personality disorder.

Why is thinking so black and white for a trauma survivor?

Children don’t have abstract thinking. That develops later in the brain. So, if a child lived in danger at home, never knowing what would set off their parent, or they got hit for doing something, their brain translates that to: I can never do this again. It’s easier to be alone!

If a child’s emotional needs aren’t being met and they feel alone, their brain might translate that to: I must try harder to be loved … be with people all the time and keep trying!

Moving into adulthood with one of these belief systems can create some unhealthy and rigid behavior patterns that no longer serve trauma survivors who are now safe in their adult lives.

You can move to the middle, where there is comfort doing both.

Living in extremes is how many trauma survivors have learned to protect themselves. That kind of extreme was necessary in your childhood — it allowed you to not notice some things (hypoarousal) and/or be vigilant (hyperarousal) to notice everything! It was an incredibly creative superpower you had to develop to keep you alive. What do you do with that superpower now that you are an adult, who can be safe in your own body? Maybe it’s time to start taking small steps into the middle — the gray area — and see if the extremes are still necessary to keep you safe. Trauma-informed therapy can help.

Expanding your ability to be present in the moment — safely — allows you to notice what you need at that time. It allows you to explore the gray area — and by expanding your window of tolerance, you can have a good balance of connection and alone-time that creates for a life of self-trust, safety, including in relationships, joy and fulfillment.

Is black and white no longer working for you?

If you’ve met me, you know I wear all black nearly every day. Maybe the occasional white dress shirt with a black sweater. So, I say, let’s keep black and white thinking for our clothes!

If you’re scared to be with people…

Or you’re scared to be alone…

If your coping strategies are no longer working…

If you are using substances, self-harm, food or restriction…

If your mental health is worsening…

If you still feel lonely or scared or unloved…

The future CAN hold something that works better and feels better. Maybe you just need some help — another hard thing for trauma survivors to do — ask for help.

If you’re interested in exploring the possibility of therapy, please reach out to our office (if you are local to our area). Let’s keep black and white thinking for what we are going to wear tomorrow. 

Photo by Annie Spratt 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.

Robyn Brickel

Robyn is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist with 20+ years of experience providing psychotherapy, as well as the founder and clinical director of a private practice, Brickel and Associates, LLC in Old Town, Alexandria, Virginia. She and her team bring a strengths-based, trauma-informed, systems approach to the treatment of individuals (adolescents and adults), couples and families. She specializes in trauma (including attachment trauma) and the use of dissociative mechanisms; such as: self-harm, eating disorders and addictions. She also approaches treatment of perinatal mental health from a trauma-informed lens.

Robyn also guides clients and clinicians who wish to better understand the impact of trauma on mental health and relationships. She has a wide range of post graduate trauma and addictions education and is trained in numerous relational models of practice, including Emotionally Focused Couple Therapy (EFT), the Psychobiological Approach to Couple Therapy (PACT), and Imago therapy. She is a trained Sensorimotor Psychotherapist and is a Certified EMDRIA therapist and Approved Consultant. Utilizing all of these tools, along with mindfulness and ego state work to provide the best care to her clients. She prides herself in always learning and expanding her knowledge on a daily basis about the intricacies of treating complex trauma and trauma’s impact on perinatal distress.

She frequently shares insights, resources and links to mental health news on Facebook and Twitter as well as in her blog at BrickelandAssociates.com

To contact Robyn directly:

Robyn@RobynBrickel.com

www.BrickelandAssociates.com

brickelandassociates.com/