“Why does my body still feel ‘broken’ years after my traumatic experience?”

Before we begin, I want to reassure you that while this article discusses how trauma affects your body, it also offers practical, actionable steps to help with healing. This article will explore how trauma rewires your body, why these changes happen, and how to work with—not against—them. Some of what you read may feel personally concerning or frustrating, so please take breaks as needed and try to stay grounded. Remember that understanding these changes is the first step toward addressing them.

Important Note:
This article is intended for educational and self-help purposes. While it reflects current understandings of trauma and its physical impacts, it is not a substitute for personalized medical or mental health care. If you’re experiencing significant or distressing symptoms, please seek evaluation from a licensed healthcare provider. Self-diagnosis can sometimes lead to unnecessary anxiety or missed medical conditions, so consider this article a companion to—not a replacement for—professional support.

Ash’s Story

Ash stared at their reflection in the bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the person looking back at them. Three years had passed since they discovered their partner’s betrayal and left the marriage that had nearly destroyed them. But the stranger in the mirror still carried the physical imprints of that trauma—and of the years of subtle narcissistic abuse from their family of origin before that. They also carried deeper imprints from childhood medical trauma, having spent months in the NICU as a premature infant, their tiny body subjected to necessary but painful procedures before they had words to understand them.

Their skin seemed different somehow. Their digestion was unpredictable. They caught every cold that came around. And sometimes, they swore their body even smelled different than it used to, especially when they were stressed. Despite therapy and emotional healing work, their body still didn’t feel like home.

“Why can’t I just get over this?” they wondered, the same question that haunted them daily. Their mind knew they were safe now, but their body hadn’t gotten the memo. It continued to operate as if danger lurked around every corner.

Complicating matters further was the fact that their ex-partner continued to send harassing texts and emails, each one like a floating ember that threatened to reignite the trauma response they were working so hard to calm. Complete safety remained elusive, even as they built a new life. And with two young children to parent—including their five-year-old who needed extra support for sensory processing challenges—Ash rarely had moments of true calm to focus on their own healing.

What Ash didn’t yet understand was that their body wasn’t broken—it was adapting. Like a forest after a wildfire, their body’s systems had transformed in response to threat. And just as forests eventually recover—sometimes with even greater diversity than before—their body held the capacity to heal, even if it would never be exactly the same.

Note to readers: This article is written with both accessible everyday language and more detailed clinical information. The clinical sections are in italics and marked as “Optional Deep Dive.” You can skip these sections and still understand all the main points of the article. This structure allows you to engage with the information in a way that works best for you, especially if reading about these topics feels overwhelming.

Neurodivergence & Trauma: Important Intersections

Before diving into the main content, it’s important to acknowledge that neurodivergent individuals (those with autism, ADHD, sensory processing differences, etc.) may experience trauma and its physical effects somewhat differently. The inherent sensory sensitivities and emotional regulation differences in neurodivergent people can sometimes make it difficult to distinguish between trauma responses and neurodivergent traits, or in some cases, when it’s both.

For example, sensory overload in an autistic person may look similar to hypervigilance from trauma, while ADHD emotional dysregulation might resemble trauma-triggered emotional flooding. For example, an autistic person forced to mask their traits may develop trauma responses to social situations, while an ADHDer punished for impulsivity may associate shame with normal energy fluctuations. If you’re neurodivergent and have experienced trauma, understanding these intersections can be crucial to your healing journey. Working with practitioners who understand both trauma and neurodivergence can help untangle these overlapping experiences.

Important note: Neurodivergence itself isn’t traumatic. Trauma arises when neurodivergent traits are stigmatized, punished, or forced into conformity. Many neurodivergent survivors carry wounds from being told their natural ways of thinking, moving, or sensing were ‘wrong’ – not from being neurodivergent itself.

Throughout this article, we’ll note some specific considerations for neurodivergent individuals where relevant, though everyone’s experience is unique regardless of neurotype.

When Your Body Becomes a Stranger: The Disconnect of Trauma

One of the most distressing physical effects of trauma is the profound sense of disconnection from your own body. Many survivors report feeling uncomfortable in their own skin, no longer recognizing or trusting the body that houses them. This experience—known as somatic disconnection—can range from mild detachment to profound experiences where your body feels alien or unreal (depersonalization).

This bodily alienation isn’t just an emotional experience—it’s a physical adaptation to overwhelming events. When trauma occurs, especially repeated trauma, many survivors learn to tune out physical sensations as a way to survive. Pain, hunger, fatigue, even emotions with physical components (like the tight chest of anxiety or the heaviness of grief)—all these signals become background noise to be ignored to keep functioning. This body disconnection serves a protective purpose during trauma but often continues long after the danger has passed.

The trauma disrupts your awareness of your body’s internal state (interoception), creating a profound disconnect. You may struggle to identify basic physical sensations or needs. This often accompanies a difficulty identifying and expressing feelings (alexithymia) as the mind and body lose their natural connection.

Over time, this disconnection creates a cycle: your body sends signals, you don’t listen because you’ve been conditioned not to, so your body “speaks louder” through intensifying symptoms. Eventually, your body may even force you to stop by “giving out” completely—perhaps through illness, collapse, or a health crisis that prevents you from continuing to push forward. Often, these physical shutdowns happen right before or during important events or opportunities, which can feel like your body is sabotaging you. But from your body’s perspective, it’s been trying to get your attention for a long time, and this is its last-resort communication method.

Your body may seem like it’s betraying you, while from the body’s perspective, you betrayed it first by ignoring its warnings and needs. This perception of the body as an enemy often begins in childhood for many trauma survivors, especially when caregivers dismissed, punished, or ignored expressions of physical needs or discomfort. When a child learns that hunger, pain, or exhaustion will be met with dismissal or criticism, disconnecting from these sensations becomes a survival strategy. This also manifests from early life medical procedures where the child doesn’t understand the help or necessity, only their helplessness and pain.

“Why should my body trust me?” Ash had wondered during a therapy session. “I ignored its signals for years. I pushed through exhaustion, dismissed pain, pretended I wasn’t hungry or scared or angry when I was. I treated my body like an enemy, so now it acts like one.”

Breaking this cycle begins with recognition: your body isn’t your enemy. It’s a faithful ally that has been trying to protect you all along, even when its methods became counterproductive.

Hope Note: Reconnection with your body is possible. The path back to safe embodiment involves gentle inquisitiveness, compassion, and gradually learning to hear and respond to your body’s signals instead of overriding them.

How Trauma Hijacks Your Body’s Natural Systems

When a forest faces the threat of fire, everything changes. Plants that once focused energy on growth now divert resources to survival mechanisms. Some trees seal their bark, others release seeds that only germinate after intense heat. Animals flee or burrow deeply. The entire ecosystem shifts into survival mode, with every organism’s priorities fundamentally altered by the presence of threat.

Your body responds to trauma in a similar way. Systems that once maintained general well-being and growth shift toward hypervigilance and protection. Functions needed for immediate survival receive extra resources, while those deemed non-essential during crisis receive less. This isn’t a malfunction—it’s your body working exactly as designed when facing overwhelming stress, particularly from someone you trusted.

Think of trauma as an environmental shift that forces your body’s ecosystem to adapt for survival. Much like certain plant species dominate after a forest fire while others recede, trauma causes some bodily systems to become hyperactive while others become quiet. After a forest fire, species that can quickly take advantage of newly opened space and increased sunlight—like fireweed and certain pine trees with fire-activated seeds—flourish first. These “pioneer species” stabilize the soil and create conditions for the next wave of forest recovery. Similarly, your body’s stress response systems quickly activate to protect you, while growth and restoration systems temporarily recede.

The systems that get sacrificed first are those that aren’t immediately necessary for survival—like digestive efficiency, reproductive function, and tissue repair mechanisms. These changes aren’t “just in your head” or signs of weakness—they’re sophisticated biological adaptations that helped you survive.

Hope Note: Your body’s changes aren’t permanent sentences, though they can feel overwhelming. The same adaptability that helped you survive can be redirected toward healing. Recovery isn’t about “erasing” these changes but about understanding them and creating new patterns of safety that allow your body to gradually shift out of survival mode.

Optional Deep Dive: Trauma-Induced Systemic Dysregulation

These systemic changes can be understood as Trauma-Induced Systemic Dysregulation (TISD). This involves disruption of your body’s essential regulatory systems, including the autonomic nervous system, hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis, immune function, and gut-brain communication pathways. These systems normally work in harmony to maintain equilibrium (homeostasis), but trauma forces them into persistent survival patterns that gradually deplete your physical and mental resources—this accumulating wear and tear on the body from chronic stress is known as ‘allostatic load.’

The dysregulation is particularly profound with developmental trauma (childhood abuse, neglect, or medical trauma occurring from birth to age 18) and attachment trauma (betrayal by caregivers during childhood or by intimate partners in adulthood). Examples of betrayal by caregivers include physical or emotional abandonment, consistent failure to meet basic needs, abuse, or using a child to meet the caregiver’s emotional needs. Partner betrayal might include infidelity, financial deception, emotional manipulation, abandonment during crisis, or abuse. Each body system adapts to protect you during these betrayals, but these adaptations come at a metabolic and physical cost when maintained long-term.

Key Takeaway: Your body’s systems aren’t malfunctioning—they’re still in “survival mode” even though the danger has passed. Or, maybe the danger hasn’t fully passed. Understanding this is the first step toward healing.

How Trauma Changes Your Body: From Most Noticeable to Most Hidden

Before we explore these changes in detail, let me clarify a few terms that you’ll encounter in this article. When I mention “betrayal trauma,” I’m referring to harm caused by someone you depended on and trusted deeply—like a parent, caregiver, intimate partner, or close family member. This violation of trust creates unique wounds because the person meant to provide safety became a source of danger, leaving your nervous system confused about where to turn for security.

“Narcissistic abuse” refers to a pattern of manipulation, control, and emotional harm perpetrated by someone with narcissistic traits. This often includes tactics like gaslighting (making you question your reality), intermittent reinforcement (unpredictable cycles of reward and punishment), isolation from support systems, and emotional invalidation. This type of abuse is particularly damaging because it targets your sense of self and reality.

1. Nervous System on High Alert: Why You Can’t Just “Relax”

What You Might Notice:

• Feeling jumpy or startled easily
• Racing heart, even when “nothing’s happening”
• Trouble sleeping despite exhaustion
• Tension in your shoulders, jaw, or back that won’t release
• Difficulty feeling safe even in secure environments
• People-pleasing behaviors that seem automatic (the “fawn” response)

When you experience betrayal trauma or narcissistic abuse, your nervous system rewires itself to prioritize survival. What feels like anxiety is actually your body trying to protect you by staying vigilant. The problem isn’t that your body is overreacting—it’s that it got trained by trauma to see danger everywhere.

Imagine a smoke alarm that was exposed to so many house fires it now rings at the slightest hint of warmth. That’s your nervous system after trauma—it’s doing its job, just with a much lower threshold for detecting threats.

The “fawn response” deserves special mention here because many trauma survivors don’t recognize it as a survival response. Fawning refers to automatically appeasing, people-pleasing, or accommodating others, especially in situations of perceived threat. This might look like agreeing when you don’t actually agree, putting others’ needs before your own even when it harms you, difficulty saying no, or compulsively caretaking others. If you often find yourself abandoning your own needs to keep others happy, particularly when you sense conflict or disapproval, you might be experiencing the fawn response—a survival strategy your nervous system adopted to keep you safe in environments where having boundaries or expressing needs was dangerous.

Recovery Path: Your nervous system can gradually learn to recognize moments of relative safety. This isn’t about forcing yourself to relax, but rather gently helping your body distinguish between times of active threat and times when the danger is temporarily lessened or not immediately present. Even if complete safety isn’t achievable yet, your nervous system can develop more flexibility in how it responds to different situations.

Simple Approaches:

• Diaphragmatic breathing: Place one hand on your chest and one on your belly. Breathe so that your belly hand rises more than your chest hand. This signals safety to your nervous system.
• Humming, singing, or gargling: These activities stimulate your vagus nerve, which helps regulate your stress response. Even just 1-2 minutes, 2-3 times daily can be beneficial. Consistency matters more than duration.
• Progressive muscle relaxation: Tense each muscle group for 5-10 seconds, then release completely and allow 15-20 seconds to notice the sensation of relaxation before moving to the next muscle group. Start from your toes and work up to your head. This technique helps by creating contrast—when you deliberately tense a muscle and then release it, the release often goes deeper than your default “relaxed” state, which may actually be carrying significant tension. This contrast helps your nervous system recognize what genuine relaxation feels like, even if you’re chronically tense. If deliberately tensing feels triggering, you can modify by simply focusing your attention on each muscle group and inviting it to soften without the tensing step.

It’s important to understand that both your sympathetic (“fight-or-flight”) and parasympathetic (“rest-and-digest”) nervous systems are essential for health. You can remember which is which with “S is for Stress and for Sympathetic.” The sympathetic system activates your body for action and protection, while the parasympathetic system promotes recovery, healing, and calm. Neither is “bad”—you need both to survive and thrive. The problem after trauma isn’t having a sympathetic nervous system; it’s that it stays activated too much and too often, while your parasympathetic system struggles to engage when it’s safe to rest.

Optional Deep Dive: Nervous System Changes

Trauma disrupts the balance between your sympathetic (“fight-or-flight”) and parasympathetic (“rest-and-digest”) nervous systems. In narcissistic abuse survivors, the body often gets stuck in sympathetic dominance (chronic activation of the stress response) or in a freeze state of parasympathetic shutdown (collapse, numbing, disconnection). This dysregulation can be measured through tests like Heart Rate Variability (HRV), which quantifies how flexibly your heart responds to changing conditions—lower HRV indicates a more rigid, stress-dominated system.

The fawn response—a people-pleasing, appeasing reaction to perceived threat—is particularly common in relational trauma survivors and correlates with low vagal tone (reduced parasympathetic nervous system activity). This response often develops in childhood when a child learns that safety depends on anticipating and meeting the needs of unpredictable caregivers.

Key Takeaway: Your hypervigilance isn’t psychological weakness—it’s physical evidence of how hard your nervous system worked to keep you safe during trauma.

2. Your Body’s Chemistry: Why You Might Smell and Feel Different

What You Might Notice:

• Body odor that seems different than before your trauma
• Breaking into a sweat when around your abuser or encountering trauma triggers
• Excessive sweating or changes in sweating patterns
• Skin that seems more reactive or sensitive
• Temperature fluctuations—feeling too hot or too cold
• Blushing or flushing (reddening of the skin) more easily
• Changes in breath odor
• Different taste in your mouth
• Changes in how your urine or stool smells
• Altered fingernail or hair texture/strength

If you’ve noticed that your body seems to produce different smells since your trauma, you’re not imagining it. Chronic stress and trauma actually change the chemical composition of your sweat and other bodily secretions. This happens because stress hormones affect many sweat glands throughout your body, not just those in your armpits and groin. These changes alter what your body secretes and how bacteria on your skin process these secretions.

Even more interestingly, trauma can alter both your body chemistry AND your perception of smell. Your sense of smell becomes rewired, potentially making you more sensitive to certain odors, especially those associated with threat or trauma memories. These smell associations vary from person to person based on your specific trauma experiences—there’s no universal set of smells that affect all trauma survivors the same way.

The sudden sweating response when you encounter your abuser or a trauma trigger is a normal protective response—your body remembers the threat before your conscious mind does, activating the “fight-or-flight” response. This “fear sweat” serves a biological purpose, though it can feel embarrassing or intrusive in social situations.

Recovery Path: While some body chemistry changes may persist, supporting your overall stress response system can help normalize these patterns over time.

Simple Approaches:

• Regular, gentle movement to help process stress hormones
• Mindful hygiene: Use personal care products without harsh chemicals, synthetic fragrances, parabens, phthalates, or other potential irritants. Look for “fragrance-free” rather than just “unscented”
• Natural fabrics that allow your skin to breathe (cotton, linen, bamboo, silk, hemp)
• Calming techniques before situations where you might encounter triggers (these will be discussed in more detail later in the article)
• Acknowledge the change rather than fighting it—your body is telling its story

Optional Deep Dive: Body Chemistry Changes

Trauma can affect the body’s stress response systems, which may influence sweat production and body odor. Here’s what some survivors report and what emerging science explores:

Stress Hormones and Sweat: When the body is under chronic stress (like after trauma), stress hormones can change sweat composition. Some people notice their sweat smells stronger or different during periods of anxiety or flashbacks.

The “Fear Sweat” Phenomenon: Preliminary research suggests that stress-induced sweat (sometimes called “fear sweat”) may have a distinct odor compared to sweat from exercise or heat. This could be due to shifts in skin bacteria that break down sweat compounds differently.

Gut-Skin Connection: Trauma’s impact on gut health might indirectly affect body odor. If the gut becomes more permeable (a common issue in chronic stress), certain byproducts can enter circulation and be released through sweat, potentially altering scent.

Brain Changes and Scent Perception: Trauma can heighten sensitivity to smells—especially those linked to past threats. Some survivors report being acutely aware of their own body odor or reacting strongly to scents tied to traumatic memories.

Important Considerations

While these patterns are observed anecdotally and in early research, individual experiences vary widely. No long-term studies have tracked how body odor changes throughout trauma recovery. Factors like diet, hygiene, and genetics also play major roles.

Key Takeaway: The changes in your body odor and sweat patterns are direct physical evidence of how stress hormones have affected your body’s chemistry—not a sign of poor hygiene or health.

3. The Gut-Brain Highway: Your Second Brain Under Stress

What You Might Notice:

• Digestive issues that appear or worsen after trauma (IBS, bloating, constipation, diarrhea)
• Food sensitivities that you didn’t have before
• Digestive upset in response to stress or triggers
• Cravings for comfort foods, sugar, or carbs
• Feeling nauseous in triggering situations

The gut has often been called our “second brain,” containing more nerve cells than your spinal cord and producing many of the same neurotransmitters as your brain. Trauma profoundly disrupts the communication between your gut and brain, changing everything from digestion to how you process emotions.

Your gut microbiome—the ecosystem of bacteria in your digestive system—plays a crucial role in your overall health, including mood regulation and immune function. After trauma, especially early childhood trauma during critical developmental windows (ages 0-3 years), this ecosystem can become significantly altered long term.

Many survivors wonder if these gut changes can be fully reversed. The answer is nuanced but hopeful. Your gut microbiome is highly adaptable even in adulthood, and while early-life trauma can leave lasting fingerprints on your gut ecosystem, significant healing is absolutely possible.

Early childhood trauma can permanently alter the diversity of microbial species, disrupt the training of your immune system, and change gut-brain axis wiring. While some of these changes may persist, your body has remarkable ways of compensating. Even if your microbiome never exactly matches what it might have been without trauma, it can still achieve a new, healthy equilibrium that supports your wellbeing.

Recovery Path: The gut microbiome can be one of the faster systems to respond to healing interventions, often showing improvements within weeks to months, though deeper healing may take longer.

Simple Approaches:

• Trauma-sensitive eating: Focus on nourishment rather than restrictive diets
• Probiotic foods: Yogurt, kefir, sauerkraut, kimchi, and kombucha support healthy gut bacteria
• Fiber-rich foods: Feed beneficial bacteria with vegetables, fruits, and whole grains
• Reduce gut disruptors: Minimize artificial sweeteners, excessive alcohol, and unnecessary antibiotics
• Stress management before meals: Taking a few deep breaths before eating improves digestion

Specific Probiotic Guidance:

• Look for multi-strain products containing Lactobacillus and Bifidobacterium species
• Aim for products with 10-30 billion CFUs (colony forming units)
• Check for strain specificity (e.g., Lactobacillus rhamnosus GG, Bifidobacterium longum 1714, Lactobacillus acidophilus NCFM, Bifidobacterium lactis Bi-07)
• Some require refrigeration (check label), but shelf-stable options can be effective too
• Take with meals for best absorption and protection from stomach acid
• Avoid taking within 2 hours of antibiotics or with strong antimicrobials like oregano oil
• Activated charcoal can bind to and reduce the effectiveness of probiotics, so separate them by at least 2 hours
• Rotating different products every few months may provide broader benefits
• Imported products may have reduced potency if irradiated during import, so check for domestic manufacturing or special shipping methods

Optional Deep Dive: Gut Microbiome and Trauma

Emerging science suggests a strong connection between trauma, stress, and gut health. Many people with PTSD or complex trauma report digestive issues, food sensitivities, or imbalances in gut bacteria. Some animal studies suggest that early-life trauma can lead to lasting shifts in gut microbiota that are harder to reverse, even with probiotics—possibly due to long-term changes in gut barrier function or nervous system signaling. While research is still evolving, some patterns have been observed:

• Microbiome Shifts: Trauma, especially during early life, may affect the balance of gut bacteria that help regulate inflammation and immunity. Some survivors find that probiotic-rich foods or supplements (like those containing Lactobacillus or Bifidobacterium strains) support their digestion and mood.
• The Gut-Brain Link: The vagus nerve, which connects the gut and brain, plays a key role in digestion and stress responses. Trauma can sometimes disrupt this connection, leading to slower digestion, bloating, or heightened stress signals. Practices like deep breathing, yoga, or vagus nerve stimulation may help restore balance over time.
• Early Trauma and Long-Term Effects: Animal studies hint that severe stress during critical developmental periods might lead to lasting gut sensitivity. While the gut can heal, some survivors notice they’re more prone to certain imbalances, like leaky gut or food intolerances.

Supporting Your Gut After Trauma

While everyone’s body responds differently, some approaches that survivors often explore include:

• Probiotics: Strains like L. rhamnosus and B. longum are commonly studied for stress and gut health, though individual results vary.
• Anti-Inflammatory Foods: Bone broth, fermented foods, and fiber-rich diets help many people manage gut inflammation.
• Nervous System Regulation: Trauma therapies like EMDR, somatic experiencing, or mindfulness may indirectly improve gut health by lowering systemic stress.
• Professional Guidance: Working with a functional medicine doctor or nutritionist can help tailor interventions to your unique needs.

A Note on Cutting-Edge Approaches

Some newer areas of exploration—like psychedelic-assisted therapy or microbiome transplants—show intriguing potential in early research, but they’re not yet widely available or fully understood. Always prioritize safety, legality, and professional supervision when considering experimental options.

Key Takeaway: Your digestive issues aren’t “just stress”—they reflect actual changes in your gut bacteria and nervous system functioning. While some early trauma effects may linger, focus on function rather than perfection: even if certain species don’t return, their roles can be fulfilled by other microbes in a newly balanced ecosystem.

4. Immune System Confusion: Why You Might Get Sick More Often

What You Might Notice:

• Catching every cold or virus that comes around
• Taking longer to recover from illnesses
• Developing allergies or sensitivities you didn’t have before
• Unexplained rashes, hives, or skin reactions
• Fatigue that doesn’t improve with rest
• Flare-ups of autoimmune conditions

Chronic trauma puts your immune system in a difficult position. It stays activated to protect you, but this constant activity eventually leads to exhaustion and immune system dysfunction. Like a security guard who hasn’t slept for days, your immune system might overreact to minor threats (allergies, sensitivities) while missing the important ones (viruses, infections).

Recovery Path: The immune system responds well to stress reduction and rebuilding basic health foundations, though it may take months to recalibrate fully.

Simple Approaches:

• Prioritize sleep quality: Immune rebuilding happens during deep sleep. This may be challenging with trauma-related sleep issues, but even small improvements in sleep quality can help. Create a calming bedtime routine, minimize screen time before bed, keep your bedroom cool and dark, and consider tools like weighted blankets if they feel comforting.
• Gentle, consistent movement: Supports lymphatic flow without adding stress
• Anti-inflammatory foods: Colorful fruits and vegetables, omega-3 rich foods, turmeric
• Mindful management of mast cell reactions: Notice triggers for flushing (skin reddening), itching, or rashes and minimize exposure to foods, chemicals, scents, or situations that provoke these reactions when possible

Mast cells are immune cells that release histamine and other inflammatory compounds when triggered by potential threats. In trauma survivors, these cells often become more reactive, contributing to symptoms like flushing (skin reddening), itching, hives, and digestive upset after exposure to certain foods, chemicals, or emotional triggers.

Optional Deep Dive: Immune System and Trauma

Trauma often disrupts immune system balance, creating a state of simultaneous chronic low-grade inflammation and impaired immune defense. This paradoxical response develops when some inflammatory pathways become persistently active while the body’s normal regulatory systems become less effective.

Many trauma survivors experience overactive mast cell responses, which in some cases may develop into conditions like Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS). In these situations, mast cells can become hypersensitive, releasing disproportionate amounts of inflammatory substances when exposed to potential triggers.

This inflammatory state creates physiological changes that may:

• Increase vulnerability to frequent illnesses
• Raise risk for inflammatory health conditions
• Contribute to autoimmune-like responses

While individual experiences vary, these patterns help explain why trauma survivors often report complex health challenges involving both hyperactive immune responses and reduced infection resistance.

Key Takeaway: Your immune changes aren’t weakness—they’re the result of your body allocating resources to survival rather than maintenance during prolonged threat.

5. Stress Response System: The Command Center of Trauma Adaptation

What You Might Notice:

• Feeling wired but tired—exhausted but unable to relax
• Weight changes, especially increased abdominal fat
• Brain fog and memory issues
• Hormone fluctuations or irregularities
• Blood sugar swings affecting mood and energy
• Sleep disruption, particularly waking at night

While less immediately noticeable than other symptoms, changes in your stress hormone system (the HPA axis) drive many of the physical effects of trauma. This system coordinates how your body responds to stress, regulating everything from energy to immunity to brain function.

Cortisol is one of your primary stress hormones. In healthy amounts, it helps you wake up in the morning, respond to challenges, and manage inflammation. However, trauma can disrupt its natural rhythms. Initially, trauma often causes cortisol to stay elevated, but over time, many trauma survivors develop abnormally low or erratic cortisol patterns. These disruptions affect your metabolism (potentially leading to increased abdominal fat), immune function, and even brain activity.

IMPORTANT: The Double-Bind of Relational Trauma

Unlike other threats, trauma from caregivers or partners creates a unique biological conflict. Your body is programmed to seek comfort from trusted people when stressed, but when these same people are the source of danger, your biological systems receive contradictory commands: “connect for safety” and “flee from danger” simultaneously. This contradiction doesn’t just feel emotionally confusing—it creates measurable disruptions in hormone patterns and nervous system functioning that make relational trauma particularly impactful and exhausting. Understanding this helps explain why recovery from abuse by trusted others involves unique challenges compared to other types of trauma.

Recovery Path: The stress response system can be one of the slower systems to recalibrate, often taking a year or more to show significant improvements, but steady progress is possible with consistent support.

Simple Approaches:

• Establish consistent daily rhythms: Regular sleep-wake times and meal times
• Manage blood sugar: Regular meals with protein, healthy fats, and fiber
• Gentle adaptogens: Herbs like ashwagandha can help support stress resilience (consult a healthcare provider first)
• Mindfulness practices: Regular brief mindfulness breaks throughout the day

Optional Deep Dive: Stress Response System Changes

The body’s central stress response system (the HPA axis) relies on carefully balanced feedback loops that trauma can disrupt. Survivors often develop altered cortisol patterns—sometimes chronically high levels, but more commonly (especially in long-term trauma) an unusually low or “flat” cortisol response. These shifts influence metabolism, cognitive function, and immune activity.

Relational trauma—particularly betrayal by caregivers or partners—has distinct effects on this system. When someone who should provide safety instead becomes a source of threat, it creates a biological paradox: the instinct to seek comfort clashes with the need for self-protection. This conflict can lead to erratic stress hormone fluctuations, where signals for connection and danger fire simultaneously. Over time, this strains the body’s ability to regulate itself effectively.

Key Takeaway: Your stress response system adapted to help you survive chronic danger. Now it needs time and support to learn that the emergency is over. Or, maybe the danger hasn’t fully passed. Understanding this is the first step toward healing.

Fatigue: The Overwhelming Exhaustion of Trauma

Fatigue is one of the most common and challenging aspects of trauma recovery, yet it’s often overlooked or dismissed. This isn’t ordinary tiredness—it’s a bone-deep exhaustion that can feel insurmountable and often doesn’t respond to regular rest. You might feel like you’re constantly running on empty, struggling to accomplish even basic tasks, or needing to recover for days after mild exertion.

This persistent fatigue has multiple physical sources:

• Chronic activation of stress response systems depleting energy reserves
• Inflammatory processes requiring metabolic resources
• Sleep disruption preventing proper recovery
• Mitochondrial dysfunction from long-term stress (your cells’ ability to produce energy becomes impaired)
• The immense energy cost of constant hypervigilance and emotional management

If you’ve been told “you’re just not trying hard enough” or “everyone gets tired,” know that trauma-related fatigue is a real physiological condition, not a character flaw or laziness. Your exhaustion is a logical outcome of the enormous energy your body has expended trying to keep you safe, and it deserves the same compassion and treatment as any other physical symptom.

Recovery approaches:

• Honor your current energy limits rather than fighting against them
• Pace activities throughout the day rather than pushing through
• Prioritize the most essential tasks when energy is limited
• Track your energy patterns to identify your best times of day for different activities
• Consider supporting mitochondrial function with appropriate supplements (under practitioner guidance, see more info below)
• Practice self-compassion when fatigue limits your capacity

Other Physical Signs of Trauma

Beyond the major system changes already discussed, trauma creates numerous other observable physical changes. Understanding these can help validate your experience and guide recovery approaches.

Skin Changes

What you might notice:

• “Skin writing”: Light scratching or pressure leaves raised red marks that stay visible longer than normal
• Excessive sweating in specific areas like hands, feet, or underarms, even when you’re not hot or exercising
• Skin problems like acne or rashes that flare up during stressful times or after emotional triggers

Optional Deep Dive: Skin Manifestations

Dermatographia (also called “skin writing”) causes the skin to become unusually reactive—light pressure, scratching, or even rubbing can leave red, raised marks that linger. This sensitivity is linked to histamine release from mast cells, which may be more easily triggered in individuals with a history of trauma or chronic stress.

Hyperhidrosis involves excessive sweating in specific areas like the palms, soles, or underarms. In some people, this may be related to an overactive stress response system—especially heightened activity in the sympathetic nervous system, which governs the body’s fight-or-flight reactions.

Eye Changes

What you might notice:

• Your pupils staying dilated (larger) even in bright light
• Dry, irritated eyes that worsen during stress
• Becoming more sensitive to bright lights or visual movement

Optional Deep Dive: Ocular Signs

Many people with trauma histories notice changes in how their eyes function, particularly during stress or triggering situations. Common patterns include:

1. Pupil Responsiveness

• Some report exaggerated pupil reactions to light, especially during hypervigilance
• Others notice persistently dilated pupils even in bright environments
• These changes may reflect altered nervous system regulation

1. Dry Eye Symptoms

• Increased eye dryness, particularly during stressful periods
• Likely connected to shifts in autonomic nervous system function
• May fluctuate with stress levels

1. Visual Sensitivity

• Heightened discomfort with bright lights or certain visual patterns
• Some describe visual stimuli as physically painful during distress
• Often worsens during or after triggering experiences

These manifestations typically represent the body’s adaptive responses to prolonged stress rather than permanent damage. Many survivors find symptoms improve as their nervous system regulation recovers.

Posture and Muscle Changes

What you might notice:

• Rounded, hunched shoulders that developed as a protective posture
• Pelvic floor problems like tension, pain, or weakness (may manifest as pain during sex, urinary urgency or incontinence, constipation, or lower back pain)
• Jaw clenching, teeth grinding, or TMJ (jaw joint) pain

Optional Deep Dive: Musculoskeletal “Trauma Postures”

Fetal Shoulders: Many trauma survivors unconsciously adopt a rounded, protective posture—shoulders curled forward, chest slightly collapsed. This stance can serve as a kind of physical shielding of the body’s most vulnerable areas, especially after prolonged periods of fear or threat.

Pelvic Floor Patterns: Trauma can affect the muscles of the pelvic floor in different ways. Some survivors develop chronic tension or tightness (a hypertonic pattern), which may cause pain, discomfort, or difficulty relaxing during intimacy. Others experience a looser, more collapsed state (a hypotonic pattern), where the muscles feel weak or disconnected. For many, both patterns can show up—either at different times or in different muscle groups—especially in the context of complex trauma, where the body may have cycled through various survival responses like freezing, dissociating, or bracing for impact.

Jaw Tension and TMJ Discomfort: Chronic jaw clenching or teeth grinding is a common physical expression of unprocessed stress or vigilance. Survivors often notice tightness in the jaw or pain near the temples, especially during or after triggering experiences. This tension may reflect the body’s attempt to suppress emotion or remain “on guard.”

Voice and Speech Changes

What you might notice:

• A flat, monotone voice or a voice that sounds strained or raspy
• Difficulty finishing sentences when discussing triggering topics
• Speaking more quietly or with vocal fry (a creaky sound) especially in stressful situations
• For singers: difficulty accessing your full vocal range, voice cracks or breaks, losing pitch control when singing, or feeling disconnected from your voice
• Complete loss of words or inability to form coherent sentences when highly triggered (“trauma aphasia”)

Optional Deep Dive: Voice & Speech Patterns

Vocal Cord Tension: May manifest as a flat affect (ventral vagal shutdown) or raspy voice (recurrent laryngeal nerve irritation).

Speech Apraxia: Mid-sentence freezing when triggered, as the limbic system overrides speech centers (sometimes called “Broca’s arrest”).

Vocal fry or whispered speech: Common in those who learned to make themselves “smaller” or less noticeable to avoid abuse. Not all instances of vocal fry relate to trauma, as it can be a cultural or regional speech pattern as well.

Optional Expanded Deep Dive: Voice & Speech Changes for Singers

For singers, trauma often shows up in the voice through deeply embodied responses. The larynx (voice box) and the muscles that support it are highly sensitive to emotional states and shifts in the nervous system. When someone with a history of trauma sings, certain patterns often emerge—not because of a lack of technical ability, but because the body itself is responding to past experiences of threat.

Laryngeal Tension Patterns: Many trauma survivors carry chronic tension in the muscles around the larynx, especially the extrinsic muscles that anchor it to the jaw, tongue, and chest. This tension can limit the natural rise and fall of the larynx during singing, affecting range, flexibility, and ease. Even singers with excellent technique may experience premature vocal fatigue or discomfort after singing, especially in emotionally charged pieces.

Breath Support Disruption: The breath system is often impacted by trauma. Shallow breathing, breath-holding, or unconscious abdominal bracing are common survival adaptations. Because singing requires full, relaxed diaphragmatic engagement, these patterns can make it difficult to access the steady breath needed for vocal control. Singers may find themselves unable to sustain long phrases or may feel “cut off” from their breath in performance situations.

Proprioceptive Changes: Trauma can alter body awareness, creating a sense of disconnection between how something feels and how it’s actually being executed. Singers might struggle to “find” certain notes or registers that were previously easy, or feel confused by changes in vocal control. This isn’t a loss of skill—it’s a temporary disruption in the brain-body connection that coordinates motor function under stress or dissociation.

Resonance Shifts: The spaces that help shape vocal tone—particularly in the throat and upper airway—may constrict during trauma responses. This can result in a trapped or muffled sound, or a sudden loss of resonance, especially in emotionally vulnerable material. Some singers describe it as if the voice is “caught” or “closed off,” even though everything seems structurally fine.

Registration Disruption: Smooth transitions between chest, head, and mixed voice require fine-tuned muscular coordination and nervous system regulation. When trauma dysregulates the nervous system, these transitions can feel jagged or unreliable. Singers may experience voice breaks or inconsistent register blending, even in technically familiar passages. Rebuilding this coordination often involves both nervous system regulation and gentle, targeted vocal work in emotionally safe settings.

Additional Considerations for Neurodivergent Singers: Autistic singers or those with heightened sensory sensitivity may experience more pronounced challenges with body awareness or vocal coordination. Extra patience, flexible strategies, and customized body-mapping approaches can make a meaningful difference.

Heart and Blood Flow Changes

What you might notice:

• Heart racing when you stand up quickly
• Fingers or toes turning white or blue in cold or during stress
• Blood pressure that swings between too high and too low

Optional Deep Dive: Cardiovascular “Trauma Signature”

POTS-like Symptoms: Many trauma survivors experience a sudden increase in heart rate upon standing, sometimes accompanied by dizziness, lightheadedness, or fatigue. This pattern is especially common among those with a history of developmental trauma. In some cases, the symptoms are consistent with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), though not all meet formal diagnostic criteria. These responses reflect dysregulation in the autonomic nervous system, particularly the balance between sympathetic and parasympathetic activity.

Raynaud’s-Like Responses: Some individuals notice that their fingers or toes turn white or blue in response to cold or emotional stress. This is due to an exaggerated constriction of blood vessels—a common pattern in those with heightened sympathetic reactivity. While often associated with Raynaud’s Phenomenon, similar vascular responses are frequently seen in trauma survivors even without a formal diagnosis.

Blood Pressure Fluctuations: Trauma can create wide variability in blood pressure depending on nervous system state. During states of hyperarousal (fight-or-flight), blood pressure may spike. In contrast, during dissociative or shutdown responses, blood pressure may drop. These fluctuations reflect the body’s attempts to navigate perceived threat, even when the threat is no longer present.

Sensory Processing Changes

What you might notice:

• Being easily startled by sudden noises or movements
• Becoming overwhelmed by sensory input like loud sounds, bright lights, or certain textures
• Experiencing ringing in your ears that appears or gets worse during stress or when triggered

Optional Deep Dive: Neural and Sensory Changes

Heightened Startle Response: Many trauma survivors find themselves easily startled by unexpected sounds, touches, or movements. This reflects an overactive threat detection system, where the brain—particularly the amygdala—remains on high alert, ready to mobilize a defensive response even when danger is not present.

Sensory Sensitivity: Trauma can lead to heightened sensitivity to sensory input such as noise, light, textures, or smells. These sensitivities may stem from a nervous system that’s chronically overstimulated, or they may arise because certain sensations echo past traumatic experiences. The result is often a feeling of overwhelm or discomfort in environments others might find unremarkable.

Tinnitus or Ear Ringing: A persistent or intermittent ringing, buzzing, or hissing sound in the ears can emerge or intensify during periods of stress. This may be influenced by subtle shifts in muscular tension, blood flow, or neural activity in areas tied to hearing. For some survivors, tinnitus flares in response to trauma-related triggers, making it both a sensory and emotional stressor.

These physical manifestations aren’t imaginary—they’re visible evidence of how trauma has rewired your nervous system. Recognizing these patterns can help validate your experience and guide targeted healing approaches.

Key Takeaway: These observable physical changes aren’t “just in your head”—they reflect real neurobiological adaptations that occurred in response to trauma and can be addressed through appropriate trauma-informed care.

In the following sections, we’ll discuss practitioners, tests, and approaches that can help address these symptoms. While some options may require financial resources, we’ll also include accessible self-help strategies throughout.

If you can only focus on one area of healing due to limited resources, nervous system regulation and digestive health often provide the most foundational support for overall recovery.

Healing Timeline: The Forest’s Regrowth

Before we explore specific approaches to healing, it’s important to understand that recovery follows natural patterns similar to a forest regenerating after a fire. Like ecological restoration, healing can’t be rushed but can be supported. Understanding the typical timeline can help you set realistic expectations and recognize progress, even when it feels slow.

Important: Safety First

It’s vital to understand that significant healing requires a foundation of relative safety. If you’re still in an actively traumatic situation, your body will maintain its protective adaptations—and rightfully so. This doesn’t mean no healing can occur, but full recovery requires an environment where your nervous system can gradually recognize that the danger has passed.

If you’re still dealing with ongoing trauma, including post-separation abuse, harassment, or continued contact with abusers through co-parenting or legal battles, your healing timeline will be affected. Like a forest where embers continue to reignite small fires, ongoing contact with sources of trauma can continually reactivate stress responses.

What You Can Do If Complete Safety Isn’t Yet Possible:

• Focus on harm reduction rather than complete healing
• Create small pockets of safety when and where you can
• Build a support network that validates your experience
• Learn regulation techniques that can be used discreetly
• Practice boundary setting when it’s safe to do so
• Work with a trauma-informed therapist who understands the complexity of ongoing trauma

With these considerations in mind, here’s what healing might look like when sufficient safety exists:

The First Months (1-3):

• Nervous system: You may notice brief moments of feeling safer
• Digestion: Improved regularity or reduced acute symptoms
• Sleep: Falling asleep might become easier, though staying asleep may still be challenging
• Energy: Small increases in available energy

This is like the first green shoots appearing after a forest fire—signs of life returning, but still fragile.

The Middle Period (3-12 months):

• Nervous system: Longer periods of feeling regulated before getting triggered
• Digestion: More consistent functioning, fewer severe reactions
• Immune function: Fewer minor illnesses, improved recovery time
• Stress response: More resilience to everyday stressors

This resembles the early succession stage in forest regrowth—pioneer species (fast-growing plants that can thrive in disturbed soil) establishing themselves, creating the conditions for more complex growth and stability.

The Longer Journey (1-3 years):

• Nervous system: A new baseline of greater calm, with triggers becoming less intense
• Hormones: More balanced patterns emerging
• Body chemistry: Gradual normalization of sweat, odor, and other physical markers
• Identity: Growing sense of your body as an ally rather than an enemy

This represents the maturing forest—diverse new growth establishing a different but vibrant ecosystem.

Persistent Adaptations (Beyond): Some trauma adaptations, particularly from early developmental trauma, may persist in modified forms. Like a forest that grows back with a different composition of species after a fire, your body may establish a new, healthy equilibrium that’s different from its pre-trauma state.

Areas that may retain differences include:

• Gut microbiome composition (though function can improve significantly)
• Certain HPA axis response patterns (such as morning cortisol levels, stress reactivity speed, or recovery timing)
• Baseline inflammatory markers
• Nervous system sensitivity thresholds

However, these differences don’t necessarily mean dysfunction. Many survivors develop remarkable resilience, intuition, and capacity for empathy precisely because of how their bodies adapted to trauma.

Key Takeaway: Recovery isn’t linear—you’ll have setbacks and growth spurts. Progress often happens in a spiral pattern, revisiting challenges but with growing capacity each time. Be patient with yourself, especially if safety is still being established.

Read the rest of this article including steps toward healing in the first book in Ellen’s series “There’s A Word for That”: https://a.co/d/00yKwGEj

This article is in Ellen’s first book of her “There’s A Word For That” series. Order it here.

Copyright Notice: This excerpt is from my book. All content is © 2025 Worldwide Groove Corporation. Unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or use of this material without permission is prohibited. Thank you for respecting my work. 😊

Featured 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

The Aftershocks of Childhood Shame: A Guide for Survivors

[Content Warning: This article discusses childhood trauma, emotional abuse, animal harm, and shame experiences. Please engage at your own pace and practice self-care while reading.]

Eliana closed her office door and leaned against it, suddenly breathless. Her presentation had gone perfectly—the client was impressed, her boss had praised her work in front of everyone, and the project was greenlit with an increased budget. By all accounts, this was a professional triumph.

Yet here she was, eyes closed, whispering, “I’m so tired,” as the memory flooded back without warning: She was nine, proudly showing her teacher the extra credit project she’d spent the weekend creating. The teacher had smiled, praised her work, and then asked her to present it to the class. Twenty-five years later, she couldn’t remember what happened next, only the crushing feeling that she’d done something terribly wrong by being proud of her work.

This memory, like dozens of others, would ambush Eliana throughout her days—while grocery shopping, during meetings, even when laughing with friends. Each one brought a physical wave of shame so intense it felt like her body was trying to collapse in on itself, along with an exhaustion that went beyond physical tiredness—a soul-level weariness that made her want to simply disappear.

If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. This experience—these ghosts of childhood shame that haunt adult survivors of complex trauma and narcissistic abuse—has a name: “shame flashbacks.” But knowing the term doesn’t ease the burden. What might help is understanding why you should never feel embarrassed about the things you did as a child, and learning how to finally put these ghosts to rest.

The Trauma Earthquake and Its Aftershocks

Childhood trauma like an earthquake—a devastating event or series of events that shakes the very foundation upon which you were building your life. The immediate impacts are obvious and catastrophic, but the damage goes deeper than what’s immediately visible:

• The foundation is compromised: Your developing brain, identity, and nervous system are altered by the experience.
• The supporting structures are damaged: Your sense of safety, trust, and self-worth develop cracks that may not be apparent until weight is placed upon them.
• The architecture becomes adaptive: As you continue to grow, you build your life around these compromised structures—developing strategies and beliefs designed to prevent further collapse.

The shame flashbacks you experience decades later are the aftershocks—seemingly random, unpredictable tremors that can suddenly destabilize you long after the original earthquake. Just as geological aftershocks can continue for years following a major earthquake, these emotional aftershocks can persist long into adulthood.

What makes these aftershocks particularly disorienting is that they often occur when everything seems stable. You’ve built a good life, you’re functioning well, and then suddenly—a memory, a gesture, a comment triggers an aftershock, and you’re plunged back into the feeling of the original earthquake, despite being far from the original danger.

Understanding shame as aftershocks helps explain why:

• The intensity feels disproportionate to the trigger
• The timing seems random and unpredictable
• The sensations are profoundly physical, not just emotional
• The experience can be as disruptive as the original trauma

Throughout this article, we’ll return to this metaphor to help explain both why these shame responses persist and how healing works—not by ignoring the damage, but by carefully reinforcing your foundation and retrofitting your emotional architecture to withstand these ongoing tremors.

Understanding the Roots of Shame: Psychological Frameworks

Before diving into the specific reasons you should never feel embarrassed about your childhood behaviors, it’s helpful to understand several psychological frameworks that explain why these shame responses persist long after childhood:

Complex PTSD and Chronic Shame

Many survivors of narcissistic abuse and childhood trauma develop what trauma expert Pete Walker describes as Complex PTSD (CPTSD). Unlike PTSD from a single traumatic event, CPTSD results from prolonged exposure to relational trauma, and one of its hallmark symptoms is a pervasive sense of shame. This isn’t just occasional embarrassment—it’s a deep, persistent belief that there is something fundamentally wrong with you.

Attachment and Shame

Our earliest attachment relationships shape how we view ourselves in relation to others. Secure attachment develops when caregivers consistently respond to a child’s needs with attunement and care. However, when these attachments are disrupted by narcissistic, neglectful, or abusive parenting, children often develop insecure attachment styles:

• Anxious attachment: Characterized by fear of abandonment and a tendency to seek excessive reassurance
• Avoidant attachment: Marked by emotional distance and difficulty trusting others
• Disorganized attachment: Involving contradictory approaches to relationships, often stemming from caregivers who were both sources of comfort and fear

Each of these attachment patterns intertwines with shame in unique ways, creating relationship patterns where either vulnerability feels dangerous (avoidant) or rejection feels catastrophic (anxious).

The Neurobiology of Shame

Your brain physically changed in response to chronic shame experiences. The neural pathways for shame became well-worn highways in your nervous system, activating automatically at the slightest trigger. However—and this is crucial—neuroplasticity means these pathways can be rewired. Your brain can create new, healthier response patterns with consistent practice and support.

11 Reasons You Should Never Feel Embarrassed About Things You Did As A Child

1. Your brain wasn’t fully developed

As a child, your prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain responsible for decision-making, impulse control, and understanding consequences—wasn’t fully developed. It doesn’t reach maturity until your mid-twenties. You literally didn’t have the brain capacity to respond “better” to many situations. You were doing the best you could with a brain that was still under construction.

2. You processed the world through a child’s perception and modeled what you saw

Children naturally see themselves as the center of their universe—not out of selfishness, but because that’s how developing minds work. When bad things happen around them, they assume they must be the cause. If a parent was angry, depressed, or abusive, you likely internalized that as “I made them feel this way” or “I deserve this treatment.”

This wasn’t your failure—it was a normal developmental response to abnormal circumstances. Similarly, you simply didn’t know there were other ways to be. Your environment was your entire world. If you grew up in chaos, chaos seemed normal. If love was conditional, conditional love seemed normal.

Children learn primarily through observation and imitation. If you behaved in ways that now make you cringe—being manipulative, passive-aggressive, people-pleasing, overly dramatic, or emotionally withdrawn—you were likely mirroring the behaviors that were modeled to you. You can’t blame a child for speaking the “language” they were taught.

3. You were programmed to maintain attachment at all costs

Human children are biologically wired to maintain connection with caregivers—it’s a survival mechanism. When faced with the choice between being authentic and keeping parental love and protection, your instinct for survival kicked in. If you abandoned your true self to maintain attachment, you were following the most basic human programming. This wasn’t weakness; it was your body’s way of keeping you alive.

4. You were taught the wrong lessons about your worth

If you grew up with narcissistic or emotionally immature caregivers, you were likely taught that your worth was conditional—based on achievement, appearance, behavior, or usefulness to others. Children believe what they’re told and shown, especially about themselves. The shame you feel isn’t evidence of your inadequacy; it’s evidence of what you were wrongly taught.

The Unpredictable Spotlight of Shame

Many survivors can recall moments when they were simply existing—playing, daydreaming, or just being a child—when suddenly an adult’s negative attention would spotlight them, often with humiliating comments: “Stop acting like the village idiot,” or “Do you have to be so embarrassing?”

These moments were particularly confusing and damaging because:

• You weren’t self-conscious until that moment—you were simply being yourself
• The criticism came without warning or explanation
• You couldn’t identify what you’d done “wrong”
• It was often performed in front of others, adding public humiliation
• The behavior being criticized was often just normal childhood existence

This pattern taught you that your natural state of being was somehow shameful, that you could be enjoying life one moment and be humiliated the next without understanding why. Over time, this created a hypervigilance about simply existing in the world—a constant background anxiety that at any moment, your very way of being might be deemed unacceptable.

When narcissistic parents use these tactics, they’re rarely actually responding to anything inappropriate in the child’s behavior. Instead, they’re often:

• Using the child as a prop in their social performance
• Attempting to get approval or laughs from other adults
• Asserting control and dominance
• Projecting their own insecurities
• Maintaining their role as the judge of all behavior

The result? A child who learns that existing authentically in the world is dangerous and that shame can strike at any moment, for no comprehensible reason.

5. You didn’t know you were allowed to have needs

Many trauma survivors learned early that having needs—for comfort, attention, help, or even basic care—was somehow wrong or burdensome. You may have been praised for being “so independent” or “such a little adult” when in reality, you were being neglected. Children are supposed to have needs. That’s normal, not shameful.

6. You were responding to impossible situations

Children in traumatic environments often face no-win scenarios: If you spoke up, you were punished; if you stayed silent, you felt guilty. If you showed emotion, you were “too sensitive”; if you didn’t, you were “cold.” The “wrong” behaviors you feel ashamed of were often your attempts to navigate impossible situations with the limited tools you had.

7. You had to become a different person to survive

Many trauma survivors developed a “false self” to please caregivers or avoid abuse. This might have involved being unnaturally quiet, overly agreeable, high-achieving, or taking on caretaking roles. If you feel embarrassed about being “fake” or “performing” as a child, remember that this was a sophisticated survival strategy—evidence of your resilience, not your weakness.

For many, this shift from authentic existence to self-monitoring happened suddenly and repeatedly. One moment you were happily playing, lost in your own imagination or joy, the next moment you were jolted into painful self-awareness by a parent’s cutting remark or dismissive comment. These moments teach children to subconsciously toggle between states: the freedom of unselfconscious being versus the constraint of being constantly on guard against criticism. Over time, many survivors learned to abandon the former entirely, living in a perpetual state of self-monitoring and performance. And much of the time they have no idea they’re doing this.

8. You didn’t know healthy boundaries existed

If your boundaries were repeatedly violated, or if you witnessed unhealthy relationships, you had no model for appropriate boundaries. The times you may have been “too agreeable,” let others take advantage of you, or conversely, when you lashed out to protect yourself—these weren’t character flaws but symptoms of never being taught healthy boundary-setting.

9. Your emotional education was neglected

Children don’t inherently know how to identify, process, or express emotions—they need to be taught. If your caregivers dismissed your feelings (“Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about”), punished emotional expression, or were emotionally volatile themselves, you never received this crucial education. Emotional difficulties weren’t your fault; they were the result of emotional neglect.

10. You were dealing with an adult-sized burden with child-sized shoulders

Many children of dysfunctional families become parentified—taking care of siblings, managing household responsibilities, or emotionally supporting adults. If you feel embarrassed about times you failed at these tasks, remember that no child should have been given those responsibilities in the first place. The failure was in the adults who burdened you, not in your inability to carry that weight.

11. You were reacting to trauma, not choosing behavior

What adults may have labeled as “bad behavior” was often trauma response: hypervigilance, dissociation, emotional dysregulation, or fight/flight/freeze/fawn reactions. These weren’t choices; they were your nervous system’s automatic attempts to protect you from perceived threats. Your body was doing exactly what it was designed to do under threat.

The Body’s Response: Shame Lives in Your Physical Self

Shame isn’t just a psychological experience—it lives in your body. As psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk explains in his groundbreaking work “The Body Keeps the Score,” trauma and chronic shame create lasting physical effects:

Somatic Expressions of Chronic Shame

• Immune System Impact: Research from the ACEs (Adverse Childhood Experiences) study shows clear links between childhood trauma and physical health problems in adulthood, including autoimmune disorders and chronic inflammation
• Physical Tension Patterns: Many survivors develop characteristic tension in the neck, shoulders, or gut—physical armor against perceived judgment
• Pain Syndromes: Conditions like fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, and unexplained pain disorders often have connections to trauma histories
• Your Body’s Alarm System: Shame triggers can send your nervous system into fight/flight/freeze/fawn states, affecting digestion, sleep, and energy levels

These physical manifestations aren’t “all in your head”—they’re real physiological responses to your experiences. The exhaustion Eliana feels when shame hits isn’t just emotional fatigue; it’s her body responding to a perceived threat with the same intensity as if she were facing physical danger.

Understanding this somatic component is crucial because healing often needs to involve both the body and mind. Practices like trauma-informed yoga, somatic experiencing therapy, or even simple grounding exercises can help recalibrate a nervous system stuck in shame response.

Try This: When shame hits, place one hand on your heart and one on your belly. Take three slow breaths while silently saying, “This feeling is old and was never about me. My body is responding to the past, not the present.” Notice any shift in your physical tension as you acknowledge the source of these sensations.

When Shame Has No Memory: Understanding Implicit Trauma

Not all shame comes with a clear memory attached. Sometimes, you might experience sudden waves of overwhelming shame without knowing why—a formless, nameless feeling that you’ve done something terribly wrong or that there’s something fundamentally flawed about you. This is often connected to implicit memory—experiences that were stored in your body and emotional systems before you had the verbal or cognitive capacity to form explicit memories.

These might include:

Pre-verbal Experiences

Some of our most profound shame can originate from our earliest years, before we could form narrative memories. The infant who cried and wasn’t soothed, the toddler whose excitement was repeatedly met with irritation—these experiences don’t become stories we can recall, but they become feelings embedded in our nervous system.

Atmospheric Trauma

Sometimes it wasn’t a specific incident but the persistent atmosphere of your childhood home. If you grew up with a pervasive sense that you were a burden, unwanted, or somehow “too much,” this might not be attached to any particular memory but was communicated through countless subtle interactions.

Body-based Shame

Many survivors experience shame as a purely physical sensation—a hollowness in the chest, a burning face, a desire to disappear—without a connected narrative. This can be your body remembering what your mind cannot explicitly recall.

The Shame of Existing

Perhaps the most profound form is what some therapists call “existence shame”—the deep sense that your very being, your taking up space in the world, is somehow wrong. This rarely connects to specific memories because it wasn’t created by a single event but by a persistent message that your authentic self was unacceptable.

How to Work with Implicit Shame

When shame arises without memory:

• Acknowledge the feeling without demanding a reason. “I’m feeling shame right now. I don’t need to know why to respond with compassion.”
  Attend to the body sensation. Place a hand where you feel the shame in your body. Breathe into that space with gentle awareness.
• Speak to the feeling directly. “This shame was never about me. It was about the environment I was in and the treatment I received. This feeling is old and doesn’t reflect the truth of who I am or who I’ve always been.”
• Create containment. Visualize the feeling as having boundaries—it is a part of your experience, not the totality of who you are. Imagine putting it into a golden bubble and letting it float up to the sky.
• Remember context. Even without specific memories, you can recognize: “These feelings were formed when I was vulnerable and dependent, in circumstances I didn’t choose.”

This formless shame can be the most difficult to address precisely because it lacks a narrative you can reframe. Yet by acknowledging its existence and responding with the same compassion you would offer to your remembered child self, you can gradually create new implicit memories—ones of being met with understanding rather than judgment.

When Children Harm: Understanding and Healing from Your Most Shameful Actions

Among the most painful shame experiences survivors carry are memories of times when, as children, they harmed others—perhaps another child, an animal, or themselves. These memories often carry the heaviest burden of shame because they seem to confirm the deepest fear: “I really was bad.”

A man in his sixties shared that his most persistent shame came from a memory of killing a turtle when he was six years old—an act he has carried as evidence of his inherent badness for over five decades. What he revealed later was that at the time, he was being sexually trafficked by his parents from infancy. This context changes everything about how we understand his childhood action.

The Neurobiology of Re-enactment

When children experience severe trauma, especially ongoing abuse, their developing brains and nervous systems are profoundly impacted. Children who harm others or animals are often:

• Re-enacting their own victimization: Attempting to process overwhelming experiences by shifting from the powerless position to the powerful one
• Responding from a dysregulated nervous system: Acting from fight/flight activation rather than from the higher reasoning centers of the brain
• Expressing unspeakable emotions: Using behavior to communicate feelings they have no words for and no safe person to tell
• Seeking a sense of control: Trying to gain some agency in a life where they have none

The “Identification with the Aggressor” Defense

Psychologists recognize that children sometimes psychologically identify with their abusers as a survival mechanism. This doesn’t mean they become like their abusers in character, but rather that they may temporarily adopt behaviors they’ve experienced as a way of making sense of their trauma or trying to master their fear.

Contextualizing, Not Excusing

Understanding the context of harmful actions you took as a child doesn’t mean excusing them or suggesting they didn’t matter. Rather, it means recognizing that:

• A child acting from trauma is fundamentally different from an adult choosing to harm
• Your actions emerged from your circumstances, not your character
• What you did then reflects what was done to you, not who you inherently are
• Children have extremely limited tools for processing severe trauma

Healing from Your Most Shameful Actions

If you carry shame about something harmful you did as a child:

1. Recognize your complete context. Don’t isolate the behavior from the full circumstances of your childhood. What else was happening to you? What were you being exposed to? What resources for processing emotions were available to you?
2. Apply developmental understanding. Children at different ages have different capacities for impulse control, emotional regulation, empathy, and understanding consequences. Your action needs to be viewed through the lens of your developmental stage at the time.
3. Practice fierce compassion. Imagine watching another child with your exact history do what you did. Would you condemn them as inherently bad, or would you recognize their pain and need for help?
4. Allow for grief alongside shame. Many survivors find that beneath their shame is profound grief—for the animal or person they harmed, but also for the child they were who was so desperate and alone that this action seemed necessary.
5. Consider symbolic amends. While you can’t undo the past, many survivors find healing in making contributions to related causes—supporting animal welfare organizations, child protection agencies, or other efforts that help prevent similar suffering.

Remember: One action, even a harmful one, taken by a traumatized child does not define their character or worth. It is a symptom of their circumstances, not their soul. That child—you—deserved help, not condemnation.

When Good Deeds Feel Shameful: The Paradox of Trauma-Induced Shame

One of the most confusing aspects of shame flashbacks is that they can attach to positive memories as easily as negative ones. Many survivors share the bewildering experience of feeling intense shame when remembering acts of kindness or generosity they performed—organizing charity events, helping others, sharing gifts, or expressing care.

A survivor might recall organizing a care package project for people serving overseas, only to be flooded with embarrassment rather than pride. Another might remember publicly thanking someone who helped them, and feel overwhelming shame at the memory. Despite having done something objectively good, the emotional response is pure, visceral shame.

This happens for several interconnected reasons:

The Distorted Mirror of Visibility

For those raised in environments where being seen was dangerous, memories of being visible—even for positive reasons—can trigger delayed shame responses. While a part of you genuinely wanted to contribute or express care (by organizing the care packages, for example), another part—the protective part shaped by trauma—later responds with alarm: ‘You’ve made yourself visible. You’ve taken up space. This is dangerous.’

This explains the confusing experience of feeling genuinely motivated to do something meaningful, only to be ambushed by shame afterward. The shame isn’t about what you did, but about the perceived danger of having been noticed at all, which might lead to unfair judgement—a danger that was very real in your childhood. Just for existing.

The Contamination of Small Mistakes

When a small mistake or misunderstanding occurs within an otherwise positive action (like stumbling over words during a thank-you speech or forgetting to acknowledge someone important), the trauma brain magnifies this detail until it consumes the entire memory. This is because in abusive environments, tiny imperfections were often used as justification for disproportionate punishment or criticism.

The Discomfort of Positive Regard

Many survivors were conditioned to feel uncomfortable with positive attention or appreciation. If doing good things led to being singled out for praise, and praise was followed by heightened expectations or eventual disappointment, your nervous system might have learned to associate even positive attention with danger. And simultaneously, you may crave affirmation as reassurance against your deepest fears.

The “Who Do You Think You Are?” Effect

In narcissistic family systems, taking initiative often triggered the narcissist’s insecurity. A child demonstrating competence, leadership, or generosity might have been met with comments like “Who do you think you are?” or “Look who thinks they’re so special.” This teaches you that stepping into your power is somehow arrogant or wrong. Societal forces (e.g., school shaming, religious guilt, cultural hierarchies) often compound personal shame, making it harder to unravel. Especially in systems where:

• perfectionism is rewarded,
• self-worth is tied to productivity,
• self-criticism is mistaken for humility.

Healing This Particular Wound

This specific type of shame—shame for good deeds—can be particularly persistent because it’s so irrational, and yet so visceral. Here are approaches that can help:

1. Practice the “Both/And” perspective: “I both made a small mistake AND did something genuinely kind and worthwhile.”
2. Document objective feedback: Keep a record of the actual responses you received for your actions, not just the shame response your brain generated later.
3. Challenge the ownership of shame: When shame arises around a positive memory, ask “Whose voice is this? Who benefits from me feeling ashamed of my kindness?”
4. Reframe visibility: Practice saying “It’s safe for me to be seen doing good things” when these memories arise.
5. Honor your younger self’s courage: Recognize that any act of generosity or leadership requires you to overcome the very conditioning that now generates shame about it.

For many survivors, this shame diminishes over time with healing work, but it can persist for decades. The good news is that recognizing this pattern as a trauma response rather than legitimate shame is itself a significant step toward freedom. Your rational mind recognizing the irrationality of the shame is the beginning of its power diminishing.

Righteous Anger: The Path Through Shame

For many trauma survivors, there’s a crucial emotion that’s often missing in their healing journey: healthy anger. Survivors of narcissistic abuse were frequently punished for showing anger or taught that their anger was inappropriate, selfish, or dangerous. As a result, many survivors skip the anger phase of healing and default to self-blame and shame.

Why Anger Matters in Healing

Righteous anger—anger in response to genuine mistreatment—serves several important functions:

• It establishes boundaries: Anger signals “This treatment is not acceptable”
• It reallocates responsibility: Anger says “This wasn’t my fault; it was wrong what they did”
• It provides energy: Anger can mobilize you out of the paralysis of shame
• It honors your worth: Anger confirms “I deserved better than what I received”

The Shame-Anger Connection

Shame and anger are often two sides of the same coin. What looks like shame (“I’m terrible”) may actually be anger turned inward (“They treated me terribly”) because directing anger outward felt too dangerous in your childhood environment.

Accessing Healthy Anger

If you find yourself drowning in shame about past experiences, try these approaches:

1. Witness your child self: Imagine watching what happened to you happening to another child. What would you feel toward the adults in that scenario?
2. Write an unsent letter: Express all the anger you weren’t allowed to show then. No one needs to see this—it’s about accessing the emotion.
3. Use physical release: Punch pillows, scream in your car, or engage in intense exercise to help move the energy of anger through your body safely.
4. Validate the anger: Tell yourself “I have every right to be angry about how I was treated.”

Remember that healthy anger doesn’t mean acting aggressively or holding onto bitterness—it means acknowledging the natural emotional response to mistreatment as part of your healing process. For many survivors, allowing themselves to feel angry about their mistreatment creates space for the shame to finally begin dissolving.

When Present Becomes Past: Adult Shame Flashbacks

Thus far, we’ve primarily addressed shame related to childhood experiences or memories. But one of the most insidious aspects of trauma-based shame is how it infiltrates your adult experiences, creating new shame flashbacks about current events in your life.

Eliana’s experience at the beginning of this article illustrates this perfectly—her professional triumph triggered a shame response not because she did anything wrong in the present, but because the situation shared elements with past experiences where being visible led to painful consequences.

Why Adult Experiences Trigger Old Shame

Several mechanisms explain why perfectly ordinary—or even positive—adult experiences can trigger profound shame responses:

1. Pattern Recognition Gone Awry

Your brain is constantly scanning for patterns based on past experiences. When it detects elements that share features with earlier trauma (even subtly), it can activate the same emotional and physiological responses:

• A boss’s neutral feedback might trigger the shame response originally connected to a critical parent
• Receiving appreciation might activate the shame originally tied to moments when praise preceded disappointment
• Making a minor mistake might trigger the shame response from when mistakes led to humiliation

2. Emotional Time Travel

Trauma can create what therapists call “emotional flashbacks”—where you emotionally time-travel back to how you felt during traumatic periods, even without specific memories. During these states:

• Your emotional age regresses to how old you felt during the original trauma
• Your perspective narrows to match the limited understanding you had then
• Your body responds with the same physiological stress reaction
• Your beliefs temporarily revert to the negative core beliefs formed then

3. Nervous System Conditioning

Your nervous system developed conditioned responses to certain types of situations. When similar contexts arise in adulthood, your body responds automatically before your conscious mind has time to evaluate the present reality:

• Physical sensations of shame (face flushing, chest tightening, stomach dropping)
• Urges to hide, disappear, or apologize excessively
• Overwhelming fatigue or sudden disconnection from others
• Harsh self-criticism that seems to arise from nowhere

How to Distinguish Healthy Remorse from Trauma-Based Shame

Not all negative feelings about your actions are trauma responses. Healthy adults experience appropriate regret, remorse, and accountability. Here’s how to tell the difference:

Healthy Remorse:

• Is proportional to the actual impact of your actions
• Leads to specific behavioral change and repair
• Passes with time and corrective action
• Feels clean and clear, not toxic and overwhelming
• Focuses on the behavior, not your worth as a person
• Empowers you to do better

Trauma-Based Shame:

• Feels disproportionate and catastrophic
• Leads to global self-condemnation (“I’m terrible”)
• Persists despite evidence or reassurance
• Creates physical symptoms and exhaustion
• Attacks your fundamental worth and right to exist
• Paralyzes rather than motivates change

Breaking the Adult Shame Cycle

When you find yourself experiencing shame about current experiences:

1. Name the time travel: “I’m having an emotional flashback. This overwhelming shame is from my past, not my present. This shame was never truly about me.”
2. Orient to now: Identify specific ways your current situation is different from your childhood—the power you have now, the resources available, the people who support you.
3. Address the younger part: “The part of me feeling this shame is young and scared. That makes sense given my history, but I’m an adult now and can respond differently.”
4. Check external reality: Seek perspective from trusted others about whether your action warrants the intensity of shame you’re feeling. Often, what feels catastrophic to you appears minor to others.
5. Practice exposure with support: Gradually increase your tolerance for situations that trigger shame (like visibility, making mistakes, or receiving praise) while maintaining compassion for your responses.

Remember that these adult shame flashbacks are aftershocks—they don’t reflect your current reality but rather the continued reverberation of past events through your nervous system. With practice, you can learn to recognize them as such, reducing their power to define your present experience.

When Shame Feels Protective: Why We Resist Letting Go

One of the most surprising aspects of healing from shame is encountering our own resistance to letting it go. Even as the rational mind understands that these shame responses are irrational and harmful, a deeper part often clings to shame as if it were vital for survival. This isn’t a failure of healing—it’s a normal part of the process that needs to be approached with understanding.

How Shame Became a Protection Strategy

In trauma-informed approaches like Internal Family Systems (IFS), these resistant parts are understood as “protectors” that developed for good reasons. Your shame response may have originally served essential functions:

• Prevention of further harm: “If I feel ashamed enough, I’ll prevent myself from ever taking a risk that could lead to criticism.”
• Connection maintenance: “Feeling shame when I stand out keeps me from threatening relationships with caregivers who were threatened by my achievements.”
• Identity coherence: “This shame has been with me so long that it feels like part of who I am—who would I be without it?”
• Moral compass: “My shame proves I care about doing the right thing and prevents me from making mistakes.”
• Control illusion: “If I blame and shame myself, I maintain the illusion that I could have controlled what happened to me.”

Signs You’re Resisting Shame Release

You might be experiencing protective resistance if you notice:

• Intellectually understanding shame concepts but not feeling any emotional shift
• Finding yourself arguing with supportive messages (“That’s not true in my case”)
• Physical tension when trying shame-release exercises
• Feeling anxious or unsafe when imagining life without shame
• Worrying that without shame, you’d become selfish or careless

Building a Relationship with Your Protective Shame

Rather than fighting against this resistance, try approaching it with curiosity:

1. Acknowledge the protective intent: “I understand this shame feels necessary for my safety or identity.”
2. Dialoguing with shame: Ask your shame, “What are you afraid would happen if you weren’t here?” Listen for the answer without judgment.
3. Gradual release negotiation: “What would you need to feel safe enough to let me feel less shame in just one specific situation?”
4. Establish new protections: “Instead of shame, I can use discernment, boundaries, and values to guide my actions.”
5. Honor the service: “Thank you for trying to protect me all these years when I had few other resources.”

Building this relationship with your protective “shame parts” creates space for them to trust that you’ll remain safe as you gradually release their grip on your life. This is definitely not something to “power through.” This approach honors the wisdom of your whole self—including the parts that developed these strategies in response to genuinely difficult circumstances.

Breaking Free: Moving Beyond Childhood Shame

Understanding intellectually that you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about your childhood self is one thing. Actually releasing that shame is another. Here are some practices that can help transform these painful shame flashbacks:

Recognize the Flashback

When a memory ambushes you and that wave of shame hits, name what’s happening: “This is a shame flashback. This is my past, not my present.” Simply recognizing the process can help break its power.

Meet Your Younger Self with Compassion

When a memory surfaces, try this exercise: Visualize yourself at that age, in that moment. Now approach this child as the adult you are today. What would you say to them? How would you comfort them? Would you judge them harshly, or would you offer understanding? Practice directing the compassion you’d show to any vulnerable child toward your own younger self.

Challenge the Shame Narrative

For each memory that brings shame, ask yourself:

• What did I believe this said about me as a person?
• Who taught me to interpret it this way?
• How would I interpret this same behavior in a child I love?
• What context or understanding am I missing from my adult perspective?

Create a Reparative Witness

Many shame flashbacks persist because your child self needed a protective, supportive adult who wasn’t there. Now, you can be that person. When memories arise, practice saying (either silently or aloud): “I see you. This wasn’t your fault. You were doing your best. I’m here now.”

Practice Physical Grounding

Shame flashbacks often trigger the body’s stress response. When one hits, try:

• Placing a hand on your heart and one on your stomach
• Feeling your feet firmly on the ground
• Taking five slow, deep breaths
• Naming five things you can see in your present environment

This helps return your nervous system to the present, where you are safe.

Share Selectively

Shame thrives in isolation. Consider sharing your experience with a trusted person or trauma-informed therapist. Often, speaking our shame aloud in a safe space can diminish its power.

Develop a Mantra

Create a brief phrase you can repeat when shame flashbacks occur: “That was then, this is now.” “I was a child doing my best.” “I release all shame that was never about me, and isn’t mine to carry.”

The Self-Compassion Hurdle: When Kindness Feels Wrong

For many survivors, one of the most challenging aspects of healing is the practice of self-compassion. Despite intellectually understanding the concepts we’ve discussed, you might find that treating yourself with kindness feels:

• Fake or inauthentic
• Undeserved or unearned
• Selfish or self-indulgent
• Vulnerable or dangerous
• Foreign or uncomfortable

This resistance isn’t a character flaw or a sign that you’re “doing it wrong”—it’s a natural response when self-criticism was either modeled to you or became a survival strategy.

Why Self-Compassion Feels Threatening

According to self-compassion researcher Dr. Kristin Neff, there are several reasons why survivors struggle with self-kindness:

1. Familiarity with criticism: Harsh self-judgment feels normal because it mimics how you were treated
2. The drive for control: Self-criticism creates the illusion that you can prevent future mistakes or rejection
3. Identity concerns: If self-criticism has been part of your identity, compassion can feel like losing yourself
4. Misunderstanding compassion: Many survivors confuse self-compassion with self-pity or letting yourself “off the hook”
5. Fear of vulnerability: Self-compassion requires acknowledging pain, which can feel frightening

Easing Into Self-Compassion

Rather than forcing self-compassion (which often increases resistance), try these gentler approaches:

• Start with compassion for others: Practice kindness toward others, then toward your younger self, before attempting it for your current self
• Use the “good friend” perspective: Ask what you would say to a dear friend in your situation
• Begin with permission: “I’m allowed to be kind to myself about this specific thing”
• Acknowledge the discomfort: “It feels strange to be kind to myself, and that’s okay”
• Try physical self-compassion: A gentle hand on your heart can convey kindness even when words feel impossible
• Start with neutrality: If kindness feels impossible, begin with “I don’t have to condemn myself for this”

Remember that self-compassion is a skill that develops with practice. The discomfort you feel is not evidence that you’re undeserving of kindness—it’s evidence of how deeply you were taught that you were undeserving. And that teaching was wrong.

Rebuilding Your Foundation: Long-Term Healing from Shame

Returning to our earthquake metaphor, healing from chronic shame isn’t about pretending the damage never happened. It’s about carefully assessing the structural damage to your foundation and systematically reinforcing it to withstand future aftershocks.

Understanding Structural Damage

Just as structural engineers assess buildings after earthquakes, trauma-informed therapy helps identify where your psychological foundation has been compromised:

• Connection circuits: Your brain’s capacity for safe relationships
• Regulation systems: Your nervous system’s ability to maintain equilibrium
• Identity structures: Your core beliefs about yourself and your worth
• Agency architecture: Your sense of control and efficacy in your life

The Rebuilding Process

Healing involves reinforcing these damaged areas:

1. Foundation stabilization: Developing basic emotional regulation skills and safety practices
2. Structural assessment: Identifying the core beliefs and nervous system patterns that were damaged
3. Reinforcement: Gradually introducing new experiences and perspectives that strengthen your capacity to withstand shame triggers
4. Architectural upgrades: Building new response patterns that allow you to respond to shame triggers with compassion rather than collapse
5. Regular maintenance: Ongoing practices that continue to strengthen your resilience and self-relationship

Living in a Rebuilt Structure

A fully retrofitted building doesn’t look damaged anymore, but it has been fundamentally changed by the experience of the earthquake. Similarly, healing from chronic shame doesn’t mean returning to some imagined state of “never having been traumatized.” Instead, it means:

• You recognize aftershocks when they happen, but they no longer destabilize your whole structure
• Your foundation has been reinforced with compassion and understanding
• You’ve built beautiful new rooms in your life that weren’t part of the original blueprint
• You understand the engineering of trauma in a way that helps you support others
• You appreciate the resilience of your structure in a way others might never understand

This is why many survivors, once sufficiently healed, speak of being grateful for aspects of their journey—not for the original earthquake, but for the person they became through the process of rebuilding.

Copyright Notice: This excerpt is from my forthcoming book. All content is © 2025 Worldwide Groove Corporation. Unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or use of this material without permission is prohibited. Thank you for respecting my work. 😊

Photo Credit: Author, Substack

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

I recently had the great joy of connecting with Stacey Fitzgerald. She is a Certified Nutritionist, Somatic Breathwork Practitioner, Trauma-Informed horse trainer, Singer/Songwriter, Wife, Mother, and Creator of Becoming Safe–an online course and community for healing through all forms of betrayal trauma. 

As soon as we started talking, I just knew I had to introduce you to her. I even had the chance to attend her amazing breathwork workshop, which was soothing, healing, and eye-opening!

RACHEL: What inspired you to start writing about/exploring this topic?

STACEY: In February 2021, I had what I call my Breakdown/Breakthrough, which was a resurfacing of unhealed and undiagnosed Complex PTSD. I was so rocked in my body, especially because I had done a lot of study and had a reasonably deep head knowledge of what I thought it was to “be well.”

I realized, through my own experience, even though I had processed it in my mind, was still stored in my body and had been coming out through my songwriting for decades!

And it was showing itself through severe panic attacks and debilitating physical symptoms.

I began a deeper study of all things nervous system and trauma, adding to my head knowledge, and then really finding and DOING the things for my body that helped to move the needle from knowing to being.

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

STACEY: One of the questions I heard posed early on from an expert I was listening to was, “When in life have you FELT SAFE?” I found myself feeling stunned–I wasn’t really sure what was meant by “safe,” and I was quite certain that I had never really felt that way!

A key insight from that point was how we needed to REGULATE our nervous system before we process trauma. I realized I had been processing in my head, but not regulating my body. Regulation before processing is key!

The other key insight has been that our nervous system is not our enemy, even when it feels like it is! It is actually doing exactly what it was designed to do, which is keep us alive, and alert us that it needs our attention. We are not broken, rather, we are functioning exactly as intended.

The missing piece was understanding the language of the nervous system, and how to listen and respond to it.

Our body knows the way home, and when we learn to listen, and become friends with our nervous system, the way back to our true self becomes much clearer.

RACHEL:  What might you tell someone who is just beginning to work on healing trauma?

STACEY: It’s easy to say, but 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 withoutcondoning that it happened.

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 reads 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 story, get my book!

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

STACEY: I think many people feel like something is “wrong” with them–that they are alone, crazy, and broken. This misconception can lead to utter hopelessness, depression, or anxiety, and can cause serious health issues among many other uncomfortable and debilitating effects.

Knowing that the answer is closer than they realize brings hope and a sense of security to someone who may have been feeling really lost for a long time.

Another challenge is that others in their life may not understand what they are going through, so their efforts to “help” can often be more harmful than supportive, and lead to further disconnect, loneliness, and confusion.

Connecting with a program, a person, or a community that gets them (someone who understands what they’re going through, and how to take steps back to feeling safe) can be a lifeline in a sea of chaos!

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

STACEY: The word itself–SAFE–can have multiple meanings and implications. For instance, “playing it safe” can infer that someone is hiding or holding back. And feeling “unsafe” can mistakenly be attributed only to physically dangerous situations, circumstances, and people.

When I refer to BEING SAFE, I’m talking about a felt sense of being at home in your own body, able to be calm and alert at the same time, and having a nervous system that can handle the stresses of life and then return to a restful state when needed. It’s about having CHOICE and not being STUCK in patterns of disfunction.

When I say that you can BE SAFE, I use the letters as an acronym to describe how it feels: Secure & Stabile, Awake/Aware/Alive, Free from…and Free to… (fill in the blanks), and Expansive–able to grow, learn, explore, and step into the fullness of what it means to be YOU!

Now who doesn’t want to be SAFE when viewed in that light!?

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

STACEY: I highly recommend learning about how your nervous system functions and what it’s doing for you. This means developing a regular practice of working with your body (physiology & nervous system), soul (mind/thought, emotions/feelings, will/choices), and spirit (your breath and connection to Breath/Spirit).

I offer an online course and community that contains all of that called Becoming Safe, as well as a rich resource section with connections to other people and sources like the work Rachel does.

I also offer a 90 Day daily somatic practice journey called “The Doing,” which is a great way to gently work with your nervous system and learn it’s language, developing a trusting friendship that serves you daily, as well as Somatic Breathwork Sessions designed to do the “deep” cleaning of clearing out what no longer serves us, and re-wiring into how we want to feel and show up.

Both of those offerings, as well as links to my Facebook pages and YouTube channels can be found on my website: onpurposeinternational.org

—

To your healing,

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.

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

My father finally died a few months ago. Survivors will understand the word finally. I thought he would never die. Billy Joel’s song “Only the Good Die Young” was certainly true in this situation. I had gone no contact about seven years before, but the shadow of power this man wielded over my life continued, whether I was in contact with him or not. I even moved all the way across the country to put space between me and him. Space between the present and the past. The constructed reality he demanded everyone agree with, the dominating presence where no voice save his was heard, the judgmental pronouncements of doom and gloom over your life, the complete lack of understanding or empathy. These were just a few of the ways his brainwashing impacted me. 

These were just a few of the ways his brainwashing impacted me. 

And when he died, instead of the relief I felt at my mother’s passing, a terrible door that had been shut for over sixty years was opened. The parts of me from childhood that had split off and carried the load felt free to come forward, and it was hard. Hard to face them, hard to talk to them, and hard to become an ally to them instead of an enemy. 

There are no words to describe the damage and loss that occur when your parents choose the path of narcissism. To their very grave, my parents never had the slightest inkling of self-awareness or took any personal responsibility. In fact, my sibling and I were “disinherited.” The old threat to keep me within my father’s orbit finally came true. For me, I could understand it; I walked away years ago. But for my sibling who provided for my father financially and took care of his ex-wife, our mother, who otherwise would have been homeless, it was a low blow. Yet again, the narcissist showed his true colors. It did not matter what you did for the man; he did not know how to do anything other than hurt us. His final message? “You are worthless.” 

But I survived, and guess what? My father was wrong. It took everything I had to slog through the twisted spider web of lies he had spun. I spent decades trying to understand, reaching toward the truth that seemed to dissipate into mist at the slightest stress. To quiet the dissonance in my mind, heart, and soul. I used every technique and read every book I could get my hands on, but you know what? I made it. I have written a new chapter, established new relationships, and I walk in truth. What does the Bible say? The truth will set you free? Yep, that’s what it says. I can wonder at the joy in life, pursue dreams and goals I never thought reachable, and more than anything else, I can finish well, leaving a legacy of peace, encouragement, and kindness to my children. 

I pity my mother and father. They never knew how wonderful life could be. It is still hard sometimes, I suppose I will always bear the scars to a certain degree, but I made it. I made it out, and I am so thankful I did not give up. Defy trauma, embrace joy. It is worth it.

If you are interested in my newsletter or reading more content like this, please go to:

https://rebekahlaynebrown.com

Photo by Robert Anasch 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.

At first, I tried to push them back in, trying to make them fit into the version of my life I had always known. But no matter how much I willed them away, they kept coming—not in full, cohesive scenes, but in flashes, in body sensations, in a deep, unshakable knowing that left me questioning everything.

And that’s when the real battle began.

The Shock of Remembering

Nothing prepares you for the moment your own mind turns against you. One day, you think you know yourself. The next, you are drowning in memories that do not feel like yours but somehow are.

It feels impossible. Unbelievable. Like something you might have read in a book but never expected to happen in your own life. And yet, there it is.

For me, the shock came with a mix of emotions I did not know how to handle. Grief for the childhood I thought I had. Rage that my brain had kept this from me. Terror that if this was true, then nothing in my life had ever been what I thought it was.

And then came the worst question of all: What if I’m making this up?

The “Am I Making This Up?” Spiral

If you have been here, you know the loop.

• Why now?
• Wouldn’t I have always remembered if it were real?
• What if I’m just looking for attention?
• What if I planted this idea in my own head somehow?

I wrestled with these thoughts constantly, dissecting every memory fragment, analyzing every feeling, desperate for proof that would make it undeniable. But that proof never came in the way I wanted.

Instead, my body became the evidence. The panic that gripped me in certain situations. The way I froze at a touch, I should have been able to tolerate. The overwhelming nausea, the shaking, the way my mind wanted to flee even when I was safe.

My body had always known, even when my mind did not.

But the doubts were relentless. There were moments when I was certain I had broken completely, that I was unraveling, that soon I would not be able to trust a single thought inside my own head. I had been sure of my past once. If that could change, then what else was not real?

When the World Feels Unreal

One of the hardest things about repressed memories resurfacing is how they shatter your sense of reality. Everything becomes uncertain: your past, your identity, your relationships. And if you are anything like me, you crave certainty. You want someone to confirm what you remember, to tell you it is real, to give you something solid to stand on.

But most of the time, that doesn’t happen.

I started second-guessing everything. I would stare at old photos of myself as a child, looking for signs in my own eyes. Did I look happy? Did I look scared? Could I have been hiding something even from myself?

And then there were the nightmares. The ones that left me gasping for breath, the ones where I woke up drenched in sweat, my body aching in ways I could not explain. My mind tried to tell me they were just dreams, but my body told a different story. The fear, the disgust, the panic. It was real.

I had to learn how to exist in the in-between, to trust myself even when I had doubts. To accept that my brain had done what it needed to do to protect me and that just because I didn’t remember for decades didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

The Despair of Not Knowing

No one talks enough about the despair. The way it can swallow you whole. When you start remembering pieces of something so unthinkable, its weight is unbearable.

I remember curling up in bed, unable to move, unable to function, my mind replaying the same thoughts on a loop.

“This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
But what if it is?
What if I’m losing my mind?
What if I’m just broken?“

Nothing shakes your sense of reality like waking up one day and realizing your past is no longer what you thought it was.

I would search my memories for signs, clues, anything that would either validate or disprove what I was starting to uncover. But memory does not work like that. It does not arrive neatly, in perfect order, with timestamps and witnesses. It drips in, slowly, sometimes violently, and often without warning.

And then came the darkest thoughts.

“What if I’m making this up because I want an excuse for my struggles?
What if I’m just broken beyond repair?“

I became convinced I was unraveling, that I would wake up one day completely lost inside my own head. The fear was not just about what had happened to me; it was about whether I could ever trust myself again.

The Darkness That Almost Swallowed Me

The grief was unbearable. It was not just about the memories. It was the loss of the life I thought I had. The childhood I had once cherished now felt like a dream I had woken up from too late.

And the worst part? There was no one to validate it for me. No way to prove or disprove what my brain was screaming at me.

There were days I couldn’t breathe under its weight. Days I wondered if I would ever feel normal again. Days I thought maybe it would be easier if I just disappeared.

This is the part people don’t talk about. The way the pain can feel so heavy that it drags you under. The way remembering doesn’t feel like healing at first. It feels like dying.

Grounding Through the Chaos

If you are in this place, if your world feels like it is cracking open, and you do not know how to hold the pieces, I want you to know you are not alone. And you are not broken.

Here are some things that helped me (and might help you, too):

• Validate your emotions, even when you doubt your memories. Your feelings are real, no matter what.
• Find safe people to talk to. Whether it is a therapist, a coach, a support group, or trusted friends, do not do this alone.
• Ground yourself in the present. When the past tries to pull you under, remind yourself that you are here, now. Feet on the floor. Breathe in your lungs. Safe.
• Give yourself permission to not have all the answers. Healing is not about proving what happened. It is about reclaiming yourself.

You Are Still You

When the past cracks open, it can feel like you are losing yourself. But you are not. You are still you. Maybe even more than you have ever been.

I won’t pretend this journey is easy. It is disorienting, painful, and sometimes feels impossible. But you are not alone. You do not have to have every answer to start healing.

Your story matters. Your pain is real. And you deserve to heal, whether the world ever sees your truth or not.

You Are Not Crazy. You Are Remembering.

If you are here, in the middle of the storm, feeling like you might not make it out, I need you to hear this.

You are not broken. You are not making this up. You are not crazy.

Your brain protected you the best way it knew how. And now, it is giving you back what you are ready to hold.

You do not have to remember everything to heal. You do not have to prove anything to be worthy of support.

Your pain is real. And you are not alone.

Hold on, friend, even when it feels impossible. Hold on.

Because the other side of this? It’s worth it. And so are you.

Photo by Vincent Burkhead 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.

I have faced many traumas in my life and experienced repeated betrayal, often from those we are told we can trust—family.

An Existential Identity Crisis

I consider myself a quirk of fate; by some macabre twist, I was launched into a profoundly dysfunctional family. I grew up fatherless in a middle-class Roman Catholic household in a small South Indian town. My older sister Melanie and I were raised by our young, widowed mother in our maternal grandparents’ home, where we lived with an extended joint family.

I discovered that my father passed away from a heart attack just months after my mother conceived me, so I never knew him. Growing up without a father left me feeling empty, which may have influenced my tendency to form fleeting connections with abusive relationships and toxic friendships. The absence of pictures of my dad was heartbreaking, as it felt like all memories of him had been erased. I understand my mother likely acted out of her own grief, but it was painful that she didn’t encourage us to talk about him, leaving many questions unanswered.

Becoming a Social Outcast

At first, my mother worked hard as a teacher at our school until my soon-to-be stepfather, a medical student seven years younger, came into the picture. In the conservative town we lived in, rumors about the teacher and the young man quickly spread, and all hell broke loose at my grandparents’ home. The entire family was upset with her new relationship, but my mother was so in love that she didn’t care.

The school was even worse; we became social outcasts overnight, facing snide comments from classmates and family friends who labeled us as “the daughters” of the “flighty widow.” The reputation stuck.

As a grown woman, I understand that my widowed mother had the right to move on and lead her life. However, at age five, I only felt the loss of friends. Back then, single mothers dating wasn’t common in rural India, and my mother was blissfully unaware, caught up in her new romance as she traipsed around town in love-infested bliss.

The Birth of the Fear of Abandonment

When I was in third grade, she finally married and a few years later moved to the Middle East with her new doctor husband, leaving behind two lonely kids and a controversial reputation.

At every family event, we were seen as the “orphan Annies” and “oddballs,” garnering pity or scorn from others. In that conservative town, we stood out, burdened by a reputation we longed to escape. This likely fueled my craving for love and contributed to  ADHD and borderline personality disorder, which I discovered many years later.

Meanwhile, my childhood became a series of moves between relatives, amplifying feelings of abandonment. We were treated as unnecessary baggage, and the meager food we received was often rationed. Name-calling and forced chores made us feel like maidservants, whether cleaning the house, doing laundry, cooking, or babysitting. I was not yet 13, and I often went to bed hungry.

With each move, my sister and I faced a new set of accusations. In hindsight, I believe this wasn’t because we lacked virtue, but rather because our relatives were tired of bearing the burden of my mother. This was their way of “passing the buck” to someone else. Meanwhile, our mother hardly contributed to our expenses or sent money to those who took care of us.

Though Mom would visit us occasionally, her relationship with us, her daughters, changed dramatically. She refused to believe what we had endured and the ongoing criticism from our “overburdened” relatives. Instead, she relied only on hearsay, choosing to accept the narrative that portrayed us as the problem.

Walking Away From Abuse

At a relative’s home, life became so chaotic that we went from being poor, abandoned orphans to harassed teens overnight. The saddest part was that no one, especially our mother, wanted to believe us. They preferred to sweep everything under the rug rather than face the discomfort of the truth. I realized they chose not to support us because it allowed them to avoid their responsibilities.

As a result, in an effort to protect ourselves, two vulnerable girls walked away from a highly volatile situation and sought help from strangers. We felt unsafe among our own family.

Believe it or not, since then, we have mostly been estranged from our mother and socially isolated from our relatives. Aside from the odd occasion, I haven’t spent time with my relatives or mom in decades. Mom systematically and deliberately cut us off from any contact with the family.

 There is bullying, and then there is bullying of the worst kind; it’s called “social isolation,” the kind that was perpetuated by my dysfunctional family and also by friends at school.

This is the kind of bullying where “the strong” band together and trample “the defenseless” because there is strength in numbers—often aided by money, peer pressure, or the seniority that comes with age.

Rising from the Ashes

As a teenager, I found myself alone and began working hard to support myself. Life took a difficult turn; I met many people from whom I learned valuable lessons. I made numerous mistakes due to poor judgment and misplaced trust, but I’ve always managed to rise from them. While I regret those lapses, I would live my life the same way again because my past has shaped who I am today.

My career choice allowed me to meet many people. Early on, I took various odd jobs, each helping me develop new skills and fueling my ambition for success. I was open to any challenge, adapting and learning as I went. Eventually, I spent several years in the hospitality industry.

Final Thoughts: Know Thyself and Thou Shall Know Thy God

Along the way, I made friends and learned that everyone is unique; no one is perfect; certainly not people with the “pointy fingers.” Nevertheless, I noticed that most people focus on four basic needs: food, money, power, and sex—but not necessarily in that order. Whereas for me it has always been like Freddy Mercury sang that “crazy little thing called LOVE.“ But when we go through abuse, neglect, and trauma and don’t find love, we settle for mediocrity or less. Trauma comes in many forms, but it’s our choice whether to continue the cycle of family karma or to break it. The buck stops with you.

Whichever way it goes, childhood trauma makes you do the thing you’ve been “conditioned” to do all your life. I understand how challenging it can be to navigate through trauma, and I want to share what has helped me along the way: love, friendships, books, music, and spirituality. Healing is not a straight path, and I certainly don’t consider myself an expert. I’ve experienced the many faces of depression, including a recent episode of panic and anxiety, which I know can feel overwhelming. If you’re struggling, please remember that you don’t have to go through it alone. Reach out to your loved ones and consider seeking therapy. It’s so important to take that step and not delay getting the support you need. If you are like me, you deserve to find peace and healing.

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.

Understanding the Impact of CPTSD on Personality

Trauma fundamentally changes how individuals view themselves, others, and the world around them. In CPTSD, the effects are often pervasive, shaping emotions, beliefs, and behaviours. Common personality changes may include hypervigilance, where individuals are constantly alert to potential danger, and persistent low self-worth, driven by feelings of guilt or shame. Many people with CPTSD also experience emotional dysregulation, where they struggle to manage intense emotions, often cycling through anger, sadness, or anxiety. These changes are survival mechanisms developed during periods of trauma but tend to persist, disrupting relationships and everyday life even when danger has passed.

How CPTSD Impacts Trust

Trust is one of the most significant casualties of prolonged trauma. The very essence of CPTSD involves a betrayal of safety, which creates deep-seated mistrust in people, systems, and even oneself.

For individuals with CPTSD, trusting others often feels unsafe or even dangerous. Relationships may be approached with suspicion, skepticism, or outright avoidance, as they constantly anticipate betrayal. Conversely, some survivors may overextend trust to gain approval or prevent rejection, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation or re-traumatisation.

Trust issues also extend inward. Many survivors struggle with self-doubt, questioning their own perceptions, decisions, or worth. This internalised mistrust can feel paralysing, preventing individuals from confidently navigating relationships or decisions. Furthermore, fear of intimacy often develops, as the vulnerability required for deep connections triggers reminders of past betrayals, leading to emotional walls and isolation.

Personality Changes Over Time

The cumulative impact of trust issues and trauma responses often leads to significant long-term personality changes. While not universal, many people with CPTSD experience heightened sensitivity to rejection. This can cause intense emotional reactions to perceived slights, even if unintentional.

Defensive behaviours are also common, such as isolating from others or relying on perfectionism as a means of control and protection. These coping mechanisms, while initially protective, can prevent individuals from forming meaningful connections or embracing growth.

Chronic guilt or shame also becomes a dominant trait for many. Survivors of prolonged trauma often internalise their experiences, believing they are fundamentally flawed or to blame for their suffering. These beliefs shape identity and self-esteem, making it difficult to engage confidently with the world.

Lastly, relationships may oscillate between extremes of closeness and distancing as survivors struggle to balance the fear of abandonment with the need for connection. This dynamic can lead to cycles of idealisation and devaluation, further complicating personal and social interactions.

The Path to Healing and Growth

While CPTSD creates significant challenges, healing and growth are attainable with the right tools and support. Rebuilding trust and addressing personality changes involves small, intentional steps and a willingness to confront past wounds.

• Seek Trauma-Informed Therapy: Approaches like EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing), Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), or Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT) are highly effective in addressing trauma’s root causes and teaching new coping mechanisms.
• Rebuild Trust Gradually: Begin by trusting yourself through small commitments and achievable goals. Surround yourself with safe individuals who demonstrate reliability and respect.
• Practice Self-Compassion: Healing guilt and shame starts with kindness toward yourself. Techniques like mindfulness, journaling, and affirmations can challenge negative beliefs and reinforce your worth.
• Develop Healthy Boundaries: Learn to set and maintain boundaries in relationships, protecting your emotional and mental space while fostering mutual respect.

Engage in Support Networks: Whether through support groups, friends, or community resources, connecting with others who understand your journey can provide strength and validation.

A Journey of Transformation

The effects of CPTSD on trust and personality are deeply ingrained but not insurmountable. Healing requires patience, persistence, and support from trusted professionals and networks. Through intentional effort, survivors can begin to rebuild their sense of self, reclaim their resilience, and foster healthier, more fulfilling relationships.

While the road to recovery may be challenging, it also offers opportunities for profound transformation. By addressing the wounds of the past, individuals with CPTSD can step into a future defined not by their trauma but by their strength, growth, and renewed ability to trust.

If you have been impacted by betrayal, you might like to check out my blog, Betrayal Trauma & CPTSD. https://cptsdfoundation.org/2022/09/22/betrayal-trauma-cptsd/

Photo from Unsplash: timo-stern-EvcUtLF12XQ-unsplash.jpg

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.

“You Will Not Steal My Spotlight”

I was a victim of multiple “mean girl” witch hunts throughout my formative years. Some situations were more overt; others were covert — in the forms of emotional and psychological abuse. What was especially damaging was that, more often than not, I considered these people to be my friends. With numerous targets on my back, every school day and athletic activity became a war zone, wondering when the next barrage would hit. I noticed and absorbed most things committed against me, even when they were subtle. After a time, the insults and the venom spewed against me all became the same mantra of: “You don’t belong here.” I kept a “brave face” in public and pretended like it wasn’t affecting me, but I went home each night to take it out on my pillow.

I know most friendships end naturally — seasons change, we grow, we move on. But mean girls cannot simply walk away from their friendships as if they died naturally. They must burn the place down and make their old friends suffer intensely. They usually find courage in a cadre of new friends who latch onto and magnify the insults aimed at their victim. While these new friends have no actual animosity towards the target, groupthink and peer pressure overcome decency, allowing them to band together to outnumber the victim. It’s classic female pettiness that groups of women have perfected throughout history and something that’s immortalized in Western culture through chick flicks and reality television shows.

Nothing ever made me feel more guilty for just existing than the mean girls I’ve encountered. I couldn’t fathom that the people who once seemed to care could transform into creatures consumed with a seething hatred of me, deriving a twisted glee from my suffering. Mean girls turn their noses up at other women, but they are guilty of the very things they criticize. Sometimes, the hatred flows from a need to destroy what the mean girl hates in herself – aiming her poison at that mirror image of herself made flesh. It could be something as simple as the fact that another woman is comfortable in her own skin. If that other woman didn’t strike a nerve in her, she wouldn’t give her a second thought. But if another female threatens her spotlight, she is to blame. And she must be destroyed.

I’m Not the Sorority Girl Type

Growing up as a female in the southern United States, I knew I should prepare myself for social suicide if I didn’t join a top sorority in college. I didn’t realize until I got to college, though, that the Greek system on my campus had ruthless standards. When the sorority rush didn’t work out in the way I had hoped, the rejection made me wonder what was “wrong” with me. For months, I considered trying again to be invited to a sorority I liked. I wanted to fit in with the other young women who looked from their Instagrams like they lived perfect lives in their Barbie Dreamhouses. I attended recruitment events, but something felt “off.”  I thought, Do I want to change myself so I’m accepted by the same people who had already rejected me? Or, could I find other things that aligned more with my goals? I chose the latter, and on that path, I found some of my best personal growth.

Once I became aware of the Greek system’s impossibly high standards, I concluded for myself that the hierarchy the fraternities and sororities put in place for themselves was ridiculous. On campus, there was a derogatory term coined by the Greek system for those deemed to be “beneath” them. They called the outsiders “God-Damn Independents” (GDI). Many people brushed me off as unworthy of their time once they learned that I was a GDI, and these moments were subtle reminders of the rejection I experienced as a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshman. But I was never one to look at another person by any labels that they did or did not have. I met many women in college, some who were in sororities and some who weren’t, even supporting my sorority friends at some events. Being a GDI allowed me to build my own unique story on campus without forcing myself to meet the requirements of a system that judges young women based on things I consider to be superficial, such as their attractiveness, social connections, and parents’ wealth. I later looked back and was glad I did not join a sorority.

We Cannot “Fix” Mean Girls

When I was younger, I was competitive. Years of trauma made me realize that nothing was that serious to me anymore. In the past, I had plenty of jealousy toward other girls and women myself. However, I still forced myself to be polite to them (even through gritted teeth), go home and cry about it, and move on with my life, never thinking about it again. I didn’t set out to destroy their lives because I was jealous. Mean girls do not have this emotional maturity, though. They are sore losers. Mean girls relentlessly punish their victims for their success and joy, no longer seeing their victims as human beings with feelings but as emotional punching bags for their own anger.

I hate interpersonal tension. I typically seek to resolve it through mature communication and mutual forgiveness, as any healthy person would. In one bullying situation later in life, I decided to take the “kill them with kindness” approach — returning my bullies’ hatred with genuine kindness, even when my heart was pounding out of my chest. It was an interesting experiment. You see, bullies don’t expect their victims to react this way; they expect them to submit to the abuse. It was my way of sending them the telepathic message of: 1) Why do you feel the need to treat me this way? And 2) You won’t destroy me. Regardless of my fear, each time I conquered the people who had made me suffer deeply with a big smile, it was an empowering “win” for me.

I was a little naive to believe that my kindness might soften their hearts enough to help me resolve the tension. They were unsure how to react once I started taking my power back, and they started losing control over their victim. It made their blood boil, and I watched their own hatred eat them alive as they wrestled with the fact that their victim was beating them at their own game. The continuous rejection and fuming anger in response to my kindness caused discomfort within me, and I continued to absorb their negative emotions as if they were my own. I even wondered if I was still “wrong” for opening my mouth to be kind. But as my repeated forgiveness of them forced their facades to fall like dominoes, I started to become less afraid of them, and I learned through their body language that they were completely terrified of their own victim. They froze in their tracks like deer in headlights, couldn’t communicate properly due to their voices that shuddered in terror and couldn’t even look me directly in the eyes as they cowardly resorted to side eyes, bloodshot with abomination and fear. Those same abusers eventually waved their white flags in their own way, unable to face their victims with dignity, and I knew in my heart that I had won that brutal battle.

When I realized that all the perpetrators throughout my life were driven by fear, it changed my entire perception and made overcoming the ruminations and flashbacks much easier. All those people seemed so intimidating at the time. The way they carried themselves, it felt like they’d hung the moon. But this is by design — they need to be envied to mask what’s really happening on the inside. The real reason they act superior to others is their own deep insecurity and envy of other women.

Most mean girls have multiple victims

My bullies wanted to steal the joy that was left in me because they were internally miserable. Beyond their mocking laughter and sadistic smirks, I never once saw the mean girls in my life genuinely smile. I only saw perpetual pouts, judgmental side eyes, and cold glares through lifeless eyes. If mean girls continue to latch onto other mean girls and feed on each other’s negativity as their source of empowerment, they will never become empowered women capable of standing alone. They dig their own graves — no one enjoys walking on eggshells around cutthroat girls and women, whether at school, in the workplace, or in their personal lives. As time robs them of friends and their victims move on, they’re only left with those cold eyes reflecting back at themselves in the mirror. 

Not Everyone Turns Out to Be a Mean Girl

No matter how many female friendships have turned sour, I’m so glad I put my heart out again. I cherish the female friendships I have today. We are low maintenance, understanding that we all have our own lives. Some have kids, some are freshly married, and others are focused on their careers. The best female friendships are the ones where I don’t have to hold myself back for fear they might ruin our friendship and become my bullies over trivialities. 

Kindness Always Wins

If the mean girls who targeted me knew the extent of the suffering they caused me, they’d probably be satisfied. I doubt I ruined any of their lives; they moved on without a care in the world. Yet, there I was, living in isolation for fear of upsetting more people. I blamed myself heavily for my reactions to their abuse. But the people in my life who knew what I had been through kept reminding me: “You did nothing wrong. You did everything right.” Because abuse is never the fault of the victim. I put in a lot of hard work with some professionals who are trained experts in helping victims of bullying, and the type of somatic therapy that helped me the most in this regard was EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing Therapy). I remember when the professional — who helped me process the memories, emotions, and self-guilt — looked me in the eyes and told me, “One day, you will thank them all.” After my hard work, I no longer feel the need to prove any of my bullies wrong. I can rest my head on my pillow each night, knowing that regardless of the ways I was treated, I chose love and forgiveness in the face of the evil committed against me.

Mean girls cannot fathom that other women can be successful without being mean girls— because the only way they know how to achieve their success in life is by hurting innocent women who get in their way. Only weak women bully other women. Strong women don’t revel in others’ weaknesses; they rejoice in uplifting their gifts. Strong women don’t loudly support women’s causes in public but privately bully the women in their lives. Strong women support other women regardless of social, political, or religious differences. Strong women know that every woman is allowed to shine her light without threatening her own.

The only thing that makes the mean girls of the world powerful is the power that we choose to give them. Rather than feeling humiliated by them, victims should laugh off their immature behavior and embrace humble flattery that we’re living rent-free in their heads, even if they’re operating off the blatant lies they tell themselves about us. I now know that if another woman is angered by my existence when I am not doing anything wrong to her, it is her issue, not mine. I will never again bow down to women who act like the queens of the world but, in actuality, are internally angry about the fact that the world does not bow down at the feet they’ve used to trample the bright lights of other women.

I would rather stand alone than participate in being a bully or a bystander. In the future, if I ever have to choose between fitting in with a group of women who bully other women to be admired by others or being on the outside, mocked by them as a “God-Damn Independent,” I’ll choose to be a God-Damn Independent any day of the week.

Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva on Pexels

I was living in a different country, and had one friend, and no family around me when I fully accepted that my marriage had gone past the point of rescue. I was deeply entrenched in the most vulnerable position I had ever been in my life, with the added responsibility of holding my daughter close, during the torrents of change that we were embarking on.

I separated from my husband but remained living in the same house. No one fully knew the situation as I placed all my energy into beginning an external restructure plan to rebuild a life for me and my daughter. I worked around our schedule and attended to the most important job of all, being a mom while forming a new secure base. 

When we moved from the house, I handed my ex the easiest divorce of all time. I fought for nothing − only an average monthly sum to help financially support my daughter (which, of course, he stopped paying after a couple of years). I choose peace and freedom of movement back to the USA, instead of long-haul arguments over possessions, properties, and pensions. He agreed to all without any objection.  

I had begun putting my nursing qualification and intuitive healing abilities to work and became a Craniosacral Therapist. The training was intense. I was not aware nor resourced to deal with everything that my body remembered, but I did not. 

Years of betrayals, not just by my ex-husband, but those of a dangerous neighbor, an uncle, a deeply disturbed teacher, my father, and a brother of a friend had left somatic emotional scars and memories that slowly over time began to overwhelm my nervous system.  

I continued with the training and established a business that worked for me and my daughter. I showed up as a stable, happy mother, therapist, and yoga teacher.

It is truly amazing how well we can cope − until we don’t! 

The band-aids brought me to better times. My daughter was growing and I had slowly developed a solid new relationship with a sober, loving, strong partner by my side.

Eight years along, I was breathing deep sighs of relief while feeling held by the arms of my inner beliefs in true love. I was letting go and sharing the responsibilities of single parenting while trusting deeply in my new relationship. The irony of it all is that my heart and body fell out of agreement. 

My trusting heart was moving forward, but my body’s inner surveillance system overpowered me and began to pull me back. 

**It is so important to attend to your physiology before psychology, as it will win every time.**

“You cannot use thinking solutions for physiological issues.” (Dr. Andrew Huberman)

Inside I was beginning to literally shake underneath the true toll of all the betrayals. Anxiety began to take a firm foothold in my body and my nervous system eventually said “enough” as full-on panic entered every domain of my being. 

Thankfully I had some awareness of what was happening and tools on board to get me through the day. But deeper work on my nervous system had to be done to fully break the bonds of betrayal and relieve their burden on my biology. Talk therapy, although a little helpful, fell short. 

I needed to take firm hold of the reins of my nervous system and slowly regain its trust as I began living life in the present and not from the intrusive reminders from the past.

I know this:

Everything in life is better when you have your nervous system on board. 

What I needed was a complete nervous system overall and indeed that is what I did. I pulled all my knowledge together from nursing to craniosacral therapy, yoga, the vagus nerve, polyvagal theory, and gut health and basically taught myself how to reclaim my physical, mental, and emotional health, stability and well-being. 

Self-study is the most beneficial study of all: know yourself well and know your nervous system well. It’s your best ally when healing the bonds of betrayal. 

Do you need to heal the bonds of betrayal?

Let’s have a conversation on how I may be able to help you.

www.handsoftimehealing.com

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.