On the day my father passed away, my mother, Gretchen, began digging a grave. Not literally, but metaphorically. For 27 years, she tried to symbolically murder me, a public filicide in her systematic, intentional effort to bury the truth.

I’ve pondered my choice of words carefully. Murder, filicide. These are intense characterizations. I’m sticking with them. By the end of this article, I believe you will understand why.

Gretchen’s father, my maternal grandfather, was a child molester who preyed on little girls in the family. When my mother’s sister made accusations against him, the family symbolically buried her using isolation, smear campaigns, and cutting her off from the family. I was in my teens at the time and already a victim.

The First Shovelfuls of Dirt

Gretchen possessed a knack for altering the truth. When my father was alive, he acted as a restraint for her fantastical tales. In his absence, she became reckless and extravagant in her lies, which were increasingly detached from reality. 

She told her tales with utter consistency and persistence. Her narratives became less like ordinary lies and more like an alternate reality system that demanded participation from those around her. She immediately spoke over anyone who tried to present an alternate view.

She dug the grave slowly. One accusation at a time. One smear at a time. One triangulated conversation at a time. Every lie required another shovel of dirt.

For decades I remained silent. Many survivors do. Silence required no fight, just acceptance of isolation.

To speak against the narrative machine required waging war, going into battle, and grappling with those lies. It required sparring with extended family systems and social circles. I never held hope that eventually reasonable people would believe me. I already had the example of what my family did to my aunt.

I did try to address the issue of her father with her for decades, although I did this obliquely, timidly.

Each time I tried to do this, her reasons for destroying my credibility increased. Her need to write me off and cut me out of the family, her need for a symbolic death increased.

When a Birth Announcement Becomes a “Spiteful Letter”

One of the moments that finally shattered my silence involved the birth of my son.

I had gone “no contact” with Gretchen many years prior to my marriage. I told my husband he would never know her because she and I had such a poor relationship. 

During that time, I discovered that Gretchen was “lurking” on my blogs. Our original wedding plans involved going to Nepal for the nuptials. However, we changed to a small ceremony in San Diego.

I became pregnant, yet I announced the change in wedding plans and the pregnancy by email only to trusted family members. Gretchen repeated our initial plans to everyone as if she still had a good relationship with me. So she knew nothing of the changes.

Finally, a family member informed my mother that she had another grandchild on the way. I suspect that was quite humiliating for her to have her scheming so exposed. Still, I sent her his birth announcement.

In May 2010, shortly after my son was born, my mother sent an email claiming she had visited a psychotherapist because she was distressed by a “spiteful letter” from me. She claimed outright that the therapist had diagnosed me with Borderline Personality Disorder, which would be highly unethical for a therapist to do. In other words, it was a lie. She also stated the therapist advised her to “protect herself” from me.

That email got forwarded around and eventually landed in my inbox.

The only thing I sent to her was my son’s birth announcement.

That was it.

A photograph and announcement welcoming her grandson into the world became transformed into evidence of pathology and aggression.

At the time, I struggled to fully comprehend the psychological machinery at work. Her narrative painted me as a woman who was unstable, dangerous, and disordered—the daughter who deserved burial rather than relationship.

 And it served as an answer when people asked her, “why weren’t you invited to the wedding, and why don’t you know your grandson?” 

The Grave Deepens

As the years passed, the consequences of her lies became increasingly destructive.

My husband became quite ill and eventually developed severe psychotic symptoms, including paranoia and delusions. During this period, my mother sided not with observable reality, medical intervention, or stability, but with the narrative she had spent decades constructing about me.

She reassured a mentally deteriorating man that nothing was wrong with him. She repeated her lies about BPD and an “official diagnosis.”

She reinforced his paranoia while he spread her increasingly bizarre accusations about me to therapists, churches, schools, and family court systems. Even after psychiatric professionals documented psychosis, she continued to spread her lies that I was the problem.

Worst of all, she put her own grandson’s safety at risk by telling my ill husband that I was planning “to kidnap” our son and move away. After that, my son came home from visits with his father saying:  “Mom, if dad takes me somewhere and never brings me back, as long as I’m having fun, it’s not kidnapping. Dad said so.”

Out of anger, I texted her in 2015 telling her of my decision to go public regarding the sexual abuse. As a result, she doubled down on the efforts to metaphorically destroy me.

At one point, she even reinvented herself as the ‘Director of a Psychiatric Hospital” for a dual purpose. She claimed that my husband was not psychotic, and she had worked around people in psychotic episodes long enough to spot it. And, she used this tale to reinforce her claim that I was mentally ill.

In reality, she had once been an inpatient at a psychiatric ward while I was in high school. She was never an employee…not even a janitor.

These were all frantic efforts to destroy my credibility. If I spoke the truth, then it was no longer Gretchen’s word against her sister’s. It became 2 against 1.

But abusive family systems organize not to promote truth, but in order to prevent psychological annihilation.

Witnesses to the Burial

Those who smear the truth teller in a family need the smears to flood out from private family discussions into the public realm. The person driven by secrecy recruits unwitting allies. Some become active participants. Others remain in painful gray areas—recognizing pieces of the truth while still trying to preserve family equilibrium.

And occasionally, an outsider sees the entire dynamic with startling clarity.

A dear friend of mine, Lola, once sent my mother a lengthy email after the birth of my son. Lola had known me for years. We had played competitive tennis together, traveled together, and laughed together. She had watched my life directly rather than through distorted family narratives.

Her email was warm, hopeful, relational. She praised my parenting, spoke lovingly about my son, and gently encouraged reconciliation between mother and daughter. She wrote something that has remained with me ever since: no matter how old her own adult children became, she believed it remained her responsibility as a parent to preserve connection at all cost.

My mother never responded to Lola. That hurt Lola immensely.

Looking back, the silence itself became symbolic. Lola represented something dangerous to the grave my mother was digging: an emotionally healthy witness. Someone standing outside the family system who could still recognize humanity where the burial narrative required condemnation.

If I was loved, stable, capable, and surrounded by authentic relationships, then the grave no longer made sense.

The Psychology of Burial

I no longer believe my mother’s lies were primarily about hatred.

They were about intense fear, shame, and guilt.

After decades of pondering my conversations with Grethcen I believe, my mother was victimized herself as a child. The fragments she revealed over the decades gave me enough information to understand that much. 

Acknowledging the truth would have required accepting shame and guilt. And it would have required an almost complete suspension of reality for those around her, like her husband. My parents were married in 1956. Her father was a pastor. Pastors didn’t do things like molestation. My mother would have been labeled mentally ill as her sister was, and she would have been considered “damaged goods.”

That is an unbearable confrontation for many trauma survivors trapped inside abusive family defenses.

In this way, this abuse functions like psychological entombment. The victim who chooses secrecy clings to distorted narratives because the collapse of those distortions feels synonymous with psychic extinction. 

The Final Exile

By the end of her life, my mother had largely isolated herself inside the reality she had constructed. She surrounded herself primarily with those willing to participate in it.

In her final instructions, she requested that I not be informed of her death or invited to her funeral. The same exclusion extended to relatives who had supported me publicly after I spoke about the abuse within our family.

Even after her death, her attempts to bury me and the truth continued. But now I know that the grave she dug was never mine.

It was hers.

Every lie deepened her isolation. Every distortion narrowed the possibility of authentic connection. Every attempt to bury truth required further separation from reality, from family, and ultimately from herself.

In trying to symbolically execute her daughter, she slowly interred her own life.

Climbing Out of the Grave

For survivors of abusive family systems, one of the hardest truths to accept is this: you may never receive acknowledgment from the people most invested in denying reality.

The apology will never come.

The reconciliation will never come.

The family may continue protecting the myth long after the damage is visible to everyone standing outside it. And they will likely try to send that false narrative down to future generations to preserve legacy.

At some point, survivors face a choice. We can continue organizing our identity around distorted narratives imposed upon us, or we can begin the painful work of climbing out of a grave not dug for us.

And perhaps that is the final tragedy surrounding abusive systems built on secrecy and lies: the person most committed to burying others rarely gains insight into their own self-imposed, metaphorical burial.

My mother’s funeral was held on June 27, 2025. Three days later on June 30, her sister, the one who had first made public accusations about her father and CSA, passed away.

I am the only living survivor holding the truth.

I will continue to hold and tell that truth until the day I die.

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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

But my favorite attraction was the house of mirrors.

Once inside, I was immersed in distorted angles and false illusions. Some reflections multiplied me into infinity, while others reflected back a fractured face. We all laughed inside the maze because the distortion -the mirage- provided entertainment.

The temporary illusions ended once I stepped out through the exit door and into daylight. Proportions returned to normalcy. 

When Distortion Becomes Structure

Families shaped by abuse often function differently, much like the house of mirrors. Non-abusive families frequently have difficulty understanding this dysfunction.

Abusive families build their reality around survival, denial, and secrecy. We could surmise that the distorted reflections do not remain inside the house of mirrors. Yet many times, those clinging to the lies refuse to leave the fun house and step through the exit door into the sunlight.

The fun house becomes the architecture of daily life. Roles form around that structure. The narcissist, the scapegoat, the golden child, the enabler, the invisible child, the flying monkeys, the hero, the grey zone, or the truth-teller. Over time, some family members recognize the distortion and leave. Others never gain any insight into the maze of lies.

The system depends on the mirrors remaining intact.

That is why naming abuse inside a family system rarely breaks only one relationship. The revelation acts more like a structural demolition. The entire building trembles prior to collapse. People who seemed grounded suddenly cling to distortions that once comforted them. Some retreat deeper into the maze. Some desperately try to reposition the mirrors so the old reflections still work. Others stand frozen, unable to reconcile the person they loved with the reality now standing in front of them. Those who remain stand amidst the shards of shattered glass.

Some will walk out into daylight, even though it costs them nearly everything.

Disrupting the Family Illusion

When I spoke publicly about my maternal grandfather being a child molester and that I had been a victim, I did not fully understand that I was doing more than telling the truth. I disrupted an entire system of orientation, or I would argue, disorientation. Family members who had spent decades accepting distorted images suddenly had to make choices-the comfort of the familiar maze or the disorienting clarity of sunlight.

Some relatives supported me immediately and without hesitation. Others hovered in painful gray areas: We believe you, but we also want to support the family. At first, I struggled to understand how both statements could coexist. Now I think trauma often teaches people to confuse harmony with safety. The preservation of the structure can begin to feel more urgent than the protection of the people inside it.

Some people viciously attacked me. And they still do. Mostly, these are family members who married into the family after the first accusations had long been smothered.

My mother could never fully leave the house of mirrors..

She and I had many conversations over many decades surrounding her father. While she went to her grave denying he committed child sexual abuse, those conversations gave me enough information to decide that she had also been a victim. However, she had learned that survival depended on silence, minimization, and denial. Survival depended on viciously attacking any truth teller, which is what she did to her sister and me. 

Those distortions became so woven into her understanding of reality that removing them may have felt like psychological annihilation. To acknowledge the truth would have required her to confront not only what had been done to her, but also her failure to protect her daughter despite knowing what her father was capable of doing.

That is the unbearable weight hidden inside many family systems shaped by abuse: pain welds itself to grief, which welds itself to guilt and identity. The resulting amalgamation presents as a unified whole. 

By the end of her life, my mother had surrounded herself primarily with the few people who could still remain inside her version of reality. In her final instructions, she requested that I not be informed of her death or invited to her funeral. The same exclusion extended to relatives who had supported me when I spoke publicly about the abuse. Even in death, the family remained divided along the fault lines opened by truth.

Stepping into the Light

For a long time, I experienced that division as proof of destruction. Now I understand it differently.

The truth did not shatter a healthy structure. The structure was already fractured beneath the surface. The mirrors merely concealed it.

And perhaps that is the cruelest part about systems built around secrecy: when the mirrors finally break, people often blame the person who spoke truth rather than the violence that made the distortions necessary in the first place.

Still, I no longer believe healing happens inside the maze.

Healing begins the moment we stop using distorted reflections to tell us who we are.

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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

Photo Credit: Unsplash

Many survivors of emotional neglect, or subtle abuse, carry a wound that rarely gets named: self-abandonment. Not because they weren’t loved, but because love was conditionally offered. Attention, validation, and affection came with an unspoken rule: put your needs last, abandon what you want, and you might get what you need.

This led to adaptation. And understanding it is the first step to reclaiming yourself.

The Lesson You Never Signed Up For

As a child, you learned quickly. The message didn’t need to be explicit. It lived in the eye-roll and head snap when you expressed a need. And in the blank stares and silence when you shared a feeling. Also in the words “You ungrateful 他妈的 ! I brought you into this world, the least you could do is…”

What you absorbed was this: your needs are inconvenient. Your emotions are a burden. You’re simply “too much” and wanting things is selfish.

So you learned to anticipate what others needed before they asked, and that safety meant you had to shrink.

This is what therapists call the fawn response: the trauma-driven strategy of people-pleasing, accommodating, and forfeiting yourself to maintain connection. It’s the flip side of fight-or-flight, and for survivors of emotional neglect, it’s often the default.

When Childhood Becomes Adulthood

The problem is, those adaptations worked. Well… sort of.

They kept you safe(ish) when you were dependent on people who made you feel like your needs were too much to ask. But now you’re grown, and those same patterns are quietly wrecking your relationships with yourself.

You might notice it in these ways:

• You over-explain yourself, hoping someone will finally understand.
• You say “yes” when you feel like saying “no,” then feel resentful or depleted.
• You apologize for things that don’t require an apology.
• You people-please, then wonder why you feel invisible in return.
• You confuse boundaries with abandonment, fearing that saying no means no one will love you.

The cruel irony? The very strategies that helped you survive childhood are now the thing keeping you from thriving as an adult.

Building Boundaries from the Inside Out

External boundaries like saying no, speaking up, or leaving a conversation are useless if your internal voice is screaming that “you don’t deserve to…”  Real boundary-setting starts as an inside job.

Here are some practical steps to begin that work:

1. Name the pattern without shaming yourself

Awareness is everything. When you notice yourself over-explaining, people-pleasing, or shrinking, pause and name it. “I’m fawning right now.” “I’m abandoning myself because I feel like I have to in order to keep this relationship.” Naming it breaks the automatic pilot and puts you back in the driver’s seat.

2. Give yourself permission

Permission is the antidote to shame. You don’t need anyone’s approval to want things. You don’t need to justify your needs. Write it down if you have to: I am allowed to want things. I am allowed to say “no.” My needs are not inconvenient. They are mine.

3. Start with small no’s

You don’t have to rebuild your entire boundaries overnight. Practice saying no to something low-stakes. Order what you actually want to eat. Tell a friend you can’t meet this time. Each small no rebuilds the muscle of trusting yourself.

4. Notice the body, not just the mind

Self-abandonment lives in the body. A tight chest. A throat that closes. A pit in your stomach. A knot in your solar plexus. When you learn to read those signals, when you can say “this is my body telling me I’m abandoning myself,” you gain a powerful early warning system.

5. Rewire the inner critic

The voice that says “your needs are too much” was programmed by someone who couldn’t meet your needs. That voice is not truth. It’s an echo. When it speaks, counter it with something grounded: I survived by adapting but I’m older now, and I will HONOR my needs and chose people who will, too.

You Were Not the Problem

If there’s one thing to take from this, let it be this: there’s nothing wrong with you.  There was something toxic done to you.

Your needs weren’t too much and your feelings were not inconvenient. The void you felt wasn’t a flaw in you; It was a gap left by people who couldn’t show up. The self-abandonment you learned as a child was a survival strategy. Returning to yourself as an adult is reclamation.

You don’t have to do this alone.  Find your people.  Be picky.  Make sure they deserve your presence.  You are a gift!

A Free Resource for Your Healing Journey

If this piece resonated with you and you want additional support in navigating childhood emotional neglect, self-abandonment, and people-pleasing, I’ve created a free eBook for you.

Why You Keep Explaining Yourself to People Who Don’t Hear You offers practical tools and reflective prompts to help you recognize the patterns, rebuild your relationship with yourself, and start setting boundaries that protect your peace… without shame.

You deserve to take up space. You always did.

 Photo Credit: Unsplash

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

“I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.” – Virginia Woolf.

Virginia Woolf’s epic observation, often rephrased as “For most of history, Anonymous was a woman,” is a clinical analysis of a biased history that still continues to haunt many writers, especially in conservative cultures. Many adopted pen names or vague pseudonyms out of necessity.

History is full of these survival tactics. The Brontë Sisters published as Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell to avoid being “looked on with prejudice.” George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) knew her work required a male name to be taken seriously. Jane Austen wrote simply as “By a Lady” to shield her family from scandal. Centuries later, E.L. James (Erika Mitchell) of “Fifty Shades of Grey” fame chose a pen name to write bold themes without judgment. And then there is J.K. Rowling.

For these writers, anonymity was a shield to navigate a world that punished their voices. Their narratives remind us how exclusion, gatekeeping, and the pressure to perform or disappear have long shaped who gets heard—and who gets erased.

Never  Hide Your Voice: Own it

‘If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.’ — George Orwell.

My experience has been a masterclass in life lessons. I speak only for myself here. I have anxiety, BPD, and mild ADHD, and I am no expert on human behaviour. Yet every time I think I’ve finally built a shield against toxic behaviour, life comes crashing with another powerful lesson.

Lack of Empathy, and Dehumanization

Truth be told, we are constantly surrounded by mirrors—people whose kindness, cruelty, manipulation, or love reveal who we are.

As humans, we cannot live as islands. We crave the security of community. Yet the dark irony is that we often judge others to feel we belong in a community.

We huddle into cliques, become self-appointed gatekeepers of groups, and decide who is in and who is out.

We use taunts and jabs by indirect implication. We hide behind herds, and God help the person who doesn’t fit the mold.

When “Your Circle” Weaponizes Power &Triggers CPTSD

For CPTSD survivors, the deepest wounds often come not from dramatic violence, the screaming arguments, the stinging blow of physical abuse, or getting sucker punched. It happens from slow, agonizing social isolation—whether chosen or weaponized by others. In my dysfunctional family, the people meant to be my safe haven hurt me in ways that still echo to this day.

Toxic families and friends can use exclusion and isolation to hurt you. This is a silent ban with a thousand cuts, delivered by people who claim to care about you.

The “Outcast/Blacksheep” Syndrome

I have anxiety, BPD, and mild ADHD; growing up in a dysfunctional family, my sister and I were the “unnecessary baggage” . We were outcasts because it was easier for the “strong adults” to trample the “weak children.”

“There is bullying, and then there is bullying of the worst kind; it’s called ‘social isolation… where you herd together ‘the strong’ and trample ‘the weak’ because there is strength in numbers.” — Jenney Clark, Don’t Be Afraid to Love

When you grow up with BPD, your nervous system learns that safety is conditional. You learn that if you don’t “perform” how the family wants, you will be cast out. This is the very definition of CPTSD. It is about the constant, looming threat of being abandoned, socially and emotionally.

Tales from the Trenches

Discrimination and bullying don’t end just because people become adults after they get their degree or a manager’s office. It just gets a more expensive haircut, a success or money-can-buy-anything uncivilized behaviour, and a “social” mask. I’ve seen it play out in my own life for years, through family, work, and inner circles. These are situations that shaped my life.

Consider the dynamic I encountered a few years back.

The Architect, a person with professional standing who never raised their voice. Instead, they used the “social snub”: inviting me to events only to exclude me from conversations, joking loudly with others just out of my reach. It was a clear power move signalling to the room: She is on the outside. It keeps you permanently on the outside looking in.

Not calling out such behaviour is tantamount to letting this form of bullying happen to someone else.

Then, there are the Bystanders. The ones who watched this happen. This person was the “silent enabler.” They will look at you, shrug, and justify the Architect’s behavior. “Oh, they didn’t mean it like that.” But their eyes will say, I’m just happy it’s you and not me. In a clique, silence isn’t neutral. By saying nothing, the Bystander becomes the enabler. If you dont speak out against a wrong, you are an accomplice.

Discrimination and Baiting Crowd: Why This Triggers CPTSD

Is bullying even more contemptible when it is done by adults?

For those of us with childhood trauma, these adult “toxic communities” are  retraumatizing. They mirror the “outcast” feeling of being unprotected and unseen. When your experience is invalidated as “everyone goes through difficulties,” it triggers a primal survival fear. Imagine opening your heart to trusted people and getting trolled for baring your soul to them.

It’s a psychological hijack. You feel like you are five years old, abandoned, and alone again

And the worst part? The gaslighting that follows—“You’re too sensitive,” “It’s all in your head”—is classic emotional abuse.

Choosing “Real Love” Over “Fake Safety”

The hardest lesson I’ve learned—and one I’m calling from the rooftops to my fellow trauma warriors is that you cannot find “healing” in toxic relationships.

If you’re feeling alone, consider this:

Call out the bully: Bullies are often cowards, and they no longer exist only on the playground. They exist on your social media as trolls behind the safety of a screen; they are in your teams and in your communities. Calling out their behaviour sets boundaries, stops the cycle of abuse, and asserts that their behaviour is unacceptable.

• Recognize people for who they are: Some people thrive  on security in numbers, rather than authenticity or inner resilience. Their need for control says everything about them and nothing about your worth.
• Forgive, but set boundaries: As for me, I forgave those who hurt me, yet I no longer allow them space in my life.
• Seek your genuine exceptions: Look for the rare souls who offer kindness when it costs them something—the “loyalists” who provide support and unconditional love.
• Refuse to settle: You are as worthy. Real love—authentic connection—exists outside the trolling and herd mentality.

Don’t shrink yourself to fit rooms that want to keep you out. Healing means refusing to let others define your story.

Practical Steps for Healing from Trauma

• Understand your triggers and patterns: Journal the ways childhood dysfunctions, bullying, and toxic behaviours have shaped your nervous system responses.
• Practice somatic safety: Gentle body-based practices such as grounding, mindfulness, and breathwork help “the fight or flight” mode that exclusion triggers.
• Build micro-connections: Start with one safe person or a small, values-aligned group rather than seeking large groups.
• Seek trauma-informed support: Therapies like EMDR, somatic experiencing, or CPTSD-focused groups can help with relational wounds.

While everyone’s journey is unique, in my experience, reaching out for support helps.  If you are experiencing any form of toxic relationships, bullying, adult bullying, or isolation, reach out to the CPTSD Foundation community or a trauma-informed therapist. You are not alone. The only person who can truly grant us freedom is ourselves. So, take your power back!!!

Resources & References

• Relational Trauma: CPTSD Foundation – Treating Complex Relational Trauma
  https://cptsdfoundation.org/2022/11/14/treating-complex-relational-trauma/
  https://cptsdfoundation.org/2026/02/19/the-hidden-legacy-of-relational-trauma-breaking-free-from-codependency-and-complex-ptsd/)
• Scapegoating Dynamics: Psychology Today
  https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/basics/family-dynamics
  https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/tech-support/202104/how-toxic-families-choose-a-child-to-scapegoat)
• My Journey: Awakened Souls Podcast | www.jenneyclark.com
  

International Support for Adult Bullying, Trauma & Isolation:

• Befrienders Worldwide – Emotional support and listening services in over 90 countries (find local helplines): https://befrienders.org/
• International Bullying Prevention Association (IBPA) – Global resources for bullying prevention and intervention: https://ibpaworld.org/
• International Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation (ISSTD) – Resources, fact sheets, and therapist locator for complex trauma: https://www.isst-d.org/
• Blue Knot Foundation (Australia-focused but useful internationally for complex trauma survivors): https://blueknot.org.au/ (Helpline: 1300 657 380)
• Support: If you are experiencing adult bullying, reach out to the Workplace Bullying Institute (a leading resource for adult and workplace bullying support) https://workplacebullying.org/
• Additional general support: StopBullying.gov resources for adults – https://www.stopbullying.gov/

If you’re in immediate distress or crisis anywhere in the world, reach out to a local helpline via Befrienders Worldwide or your country’s emergency services.

Photo by Luke Leung on 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

Her teenage girls were packing up their clothes, and I couldn’t help hearing some of their conversation. They talked about how they looked in different outfits and what other kids wore at school.

What do your clothes say about you?

Do you wear smart suits to work, or can you turn up in more relaxed outfits?

What type of clothes do you feel most comfortable wearing?

I have boys, and I don’t have the same clothes conversations with my kids. They wear comfortable clothes that they can play sports in and get dirty. Maybe this is where boys and girls differ the most?

Helping my friend pack up her things made me think about what we value and what we choose to throw away.

The years go by as we change jobs, careers, and have kids. We go through phases of happiness and sadness, and our clothes change with us. I guess fashion has little to do with it as well when trends come and go.

Women change sizes during pregnancy because of the “baby weight.” After the baby is born, it can take months, even years to get back to the pre-kids’ figures, especially if you breastfeed.

I find it interesting to look at what people wear in public and how it differs for those who must wear smart clothes to work. I often wonder what goes through people’s minds when they choose some clothes over others.

You’ve seen the moms wearing athletic gear, pretending they still have the same bodies from years before. Teens wear pants that hang down to their ankles and show their underwear. Other teens walk around with miniskirts and so much make-up; you can’t tell what’s fake or real.

Do we really need to see that much cleavage, or that much skin?

It makes me wonder what goes through their minds. What makes people choose loafers over sneakers, tank tops over T-shirts, or pants over dresses?

Psychology Explains: Your clothing choices function as silent language

Did you know that your clothes really do reveal your personality, values, mood, and social identity to the world?

Yep, it’s true and here’s how it works.

Clothing as self-expression

Did you know that the colors you choose can elevate your mood and enhance your self-confidence?

It’s true that different color hues affect your emotions and feelings including your perception of the world. Bold colors, for example, can make you feel energetic and more assertive whereas softer and muted colors can create a calm and friendly vibe.

What color is your closet mostly made up of? Do you prefer black and grey over pastels, or do you mix it up? Do you wear florals, bold colors, and patterns, or are you more of a plain and simple clothing person? Do you accessorize with bold earrings and jewelry?

Clothes are more than just different materials that look good (or not) when you wear them. They express who you are to the world without words.

Every clothing choice that you make, from style and color to the way they fit your body sends subtle messages about your personality, confidence, and mood. Even the accessories you choose can give people a clue of what you are feeling that day.

I never thought that my clothes mattered that much until I became a mom. Until then I was sporty and wore clothes in which I could exercise. I noticed how new babies got people’s attention and opened conversations with big smiles. It made me want to look nice too.

I’m sure you’ve had many events and occasions where you wanted to make a good impression on the world. Wearing nice clothes can brighten up your day.

Style and Personality Types

There are many different types of dressers that say different things about your personality.

The classic Dresser

This is someone who wears tailored suits and neutral grounded colors. This style shows a practical and reliable person who has a structure and methodical life.

The Bold and Eclectic Dresser

This is the person who wears bright colors, big patterns, and unconventional combinations. This type of dresser reflects a creative individual who wants to stand out.

The Minimalist Dresser

This is the simple and functional dresser who prefers muted and grounded tones, with a focus on toned down elegance.

The Bohemian or Free-Spirited Dresser

This is a relaxed and open individual who chooses to dress in loose, flowing garments and eclectic accessories. They are often open and unique personality types.

Social Perception

Research has proven that people form impressions of people within seconds based on the clothes you wear. Clothes that fit your body shape well, can make you seem more confident, successful, and competent. Even if the person who notices you knows nothing about you, your clothes carry a vibe.

The way you dress can also influence how other people become aware of your social status, attention to detail, and personality. This makes clothing a powerful tool for non-verbal communication.

Imagine if you are giving a speech at a conference about a topic that you know well but you’ve never spoken to a room of hundreds of people before. The way you dress can help you with your confidence and get people to listen.

Mood and Psychological Impact

Your closet can affect your own emotions and behavior too. Wearing comfortable clothes is great to give you a sense of security, while dressing smartly can boost confidence and influence how you socialize with others.

The way you dress reflects subconscious desires, mood, or the image you want to give those around you.

If you have a big presentation at work, think about what you’re wearing and what message it conveys to your audience. You don’t want your boss to ogle your cleavage for the entire meeting!

Takeaway

When you understand what your clothes communicate to others, you can make intentional choices that work with your personality and goals. Whether you want to express creativity, professionalism, or comfort, your closet can serve as a visual narrative of your identity, which shapes your self-image and how others perceive you.

I looked at my own closet when I got home, and my clothes said a lot about the person that I am. Like my positive and happy personality, I wear colors, floral, dresses, and pants. I don’t worry about what I wear because I buy my clothes for comfort and to make me feel good about myself. I wear smart clothes at work and more comfortable clothes when I get home.

I wasn’t always this person. When I was younger, my clothes hung on me like a burlap sack. I dressed that way so that people couldn’t see my female shape so they would leave me alone. I also wore mostly dark colors that didn’t stand out.

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

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• Mental Health Matters
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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

Summer can also carry expectations of being busy, extra social, and happy. That being said, seeing that happiness in others can sometimes leave trauma survivors feeling isolated or as though they are somehow falling behind their peers; left behind.

Yet healing is not a competition, and there is no “right way” to experience any season if you think about it.

Remember, it is okay if your summer looks different; perhaps quieter, slower, or otherwise from that of what society generally might expect.

Your healing doesn’t have to look like someone else’s. It’s not about matching anyone energy, spead, or resilience this summer. 

On some days, progress may simply mean saying no to someone, taking a quiet walk, watching a sunset, or just allowing yourself to rest without feeling guilty for it.

Your peace may (and likely does) look less like what heals someone else and probably more like what brings you feelings of safety, comfort, restoration, pride, progress, or just calm.

Healing isn’t found within the realm of a single season. It’s something built with grit and grace overtime; a lifelong journey, often requiring ongoing attention and self-care; perhaps one day at a time.

Each small moment of peace you can enjoy absolutely matters. Over time, these small victories can accumulate, leading to profound and potentially meaningful improvements in healing and overall well-being.

Remember that your journey is your own and living at your own pace should not make you feel guilty. At the very least, it is actually one thing you can absolutely control.

Be well.

Original Image Disclaimer: “The image used is an original creative work produced by the author through personal conceptual design, imagination, and use of digital generation and editing tools. Any resemblance to existing works, individuals, or copyrighted material is purely coincidental.”

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

When another’s presence approaches our self-imposed safety bubble or personal space, we have choices about how to interpret the “intrusion.” It can be seen as a safe and welcome experience, where we respond emotionally positively and let them in. We are protected and find comfort and safety from potential threats to our well-being by maintaining a respected distance from others.

This is our safe zone, private shield, or our socially “agreed-upon” personal space. It should be a given to a sound-minded individual that they graciously knock at our door before imposing their behavior upon us. That is especially true if the intrusion is uninvited and/or in a self-righteous sense of permission to do as they please, with no respect for us; if they do not knock, we “should” be leery. For many people, it takes courage to say, “You didn’t knock first before engaging with me.”

Some people have no internalized boundaries. That goes for those who boldly enter another’s space uninvited, as well as many who allow others to violate their boundary without giving permission. Entering another’s personal space powerfully, dominantly, or, especially, with hypercharged anger is a violation of their personal sovereignty—a violation of their right to personal dignity and self-respect (this signifies the “blindness” to respect).

An innocent, vulnerable child depends on its parents or caretakers to defend their innate boundaries. Parents protect us and allow us to grow and flourish. Boundaries help to keep us safe.

Sovereignty is my claim, my authority; it is my personal power and enforced right to be the overseer of me and my space within and around me, keeping me safe.

I reserve the right to make my own life choices, to exclude others, and to make my own decisions. I am individuated, and I hold my ground as a God-given right. It is not being rude to expect others to respect us by acknowledging our right to sovereignty over our space and ourselves. Through self-governance, my choices are made from internal understanding, not from external sources or groupthink.

This was the concept I sought: the construct and the understanding of why and how our trampled-upon innate boundaries damage us.

First and foremost, our personal boundaries are fragile to assault and dismantling in our childhood. A controlling parent who demands strict obedience wants to strip away our personal voice, which stands as an obstacle to their control. Over time, far too many of us find ourselves powerless to stand tall and defend against those who would do us harm during and after childhood.

Part of a parent’s job in rearing a child is to protect the child’s boundaries from others’ assaults. Protection from physical, emotional, psychological, and any other harm that threatens to derail a sound foundation of self-development and self-empowerment is a parent’s responsibility (and society, it takes a village to raise a child).

If a human being sets their toxic-chaotic rage upon someone, crossing and violating another’s private sanctuary of presence, it appears as an unthoughtful emotional assault. Here, “unthoughtful” is indeed an inappropriately lightweight word. “Blind” seems more appropriate. Lack of self-awareness and self-understanding leads to an inner self-permission to grant or justify the assault upon another.

Thus, what we do and how we harm others can be considered acts of “blind self-righteousness.” On a subconscious level, the impression develops that “others are unworthy of respect or being treated with dignity.” We don’t envision how anyone deserves respect, not if they are to be controlled and dominated, as some seem driven to do. We can become completely “blind” to the respect and rights that humanity deserves.

When inner rage takes control, there is often a lashing-out behavior toward others in a hurtful manner. We become blinded by rage, ignorance, and human tradition. A lack of awareness and/or understanding can be due to human or cultural traditions.

Our innate boundary, our mind’s inner sanctum of being respected, revered, watched over, and authentically loved, is strong. We develop, through a permission structure, self-esteem and confidence, as well as the ability to think for ourselves. An unsound/damaged boundary structure has internalized the disrespect and obedience demanded from “blind” adherents of a sick societal structure.

A structure or expectation that you have no right to object to abuse and that you “should” blindly show fealty to another’s rights to dictate your behavior, thoughts, and emotions. Self-regulation and self-governance may lie deep within, having given way to an inner tyranny or blocking of individualist thinking. “Groupthink” is adopting the beliefs of those who are important to us. This leaves us as cogs in the social operation, from a group-enforced understanding of sometimes questionable “truths.”

Cruelty. When someone’s personal power and self-regulation are harmed, a sense of emptiness remains.

A hole that aches from the loss of structure and unconditional LOVE. The inner damage may result from being trauma-wounded during important developmental stages of life. A consequence of hidden, or repressed abuse and pain, too often manifests as an emotional energy or brewing rage. That rage can darken an individual’s worldview and perspective, including, in all respects, a furious, evil attitude toward others who might be present.

Utter “cruelty” toward others, in the “blinding” rage of repressed fury at the world at large, can take control. Someone may step into another’s private sacred world of secure boundaries and do unspeakable things of intentional violence. Hurting others with the sense of sadistic fury, haunting the innocent others who, before the enraged trance, were safe from harm.

Like a light switch being flicked on, inner trauma ignites and activates the nervous systems of deeply wounded souls.

Being blinded to love, respect, dignity, and all that is good and decent, gets lost in the fog of a building inner dark emotional wasteland. This emotional space stands at the gates of a developing self-annihilation. It is a consuming anxiety waiting to turn the inner abused adult-child’s world into a sadistic imperative to lash out in a teeth-grinding fury. I sit in the later years of life, viewing the rage and utter bedlam my parents brought upon me in the formative years of my youth.

I see and know the face-twisting fury my mother experienced, brought on by the extreme abuse her inner child endured in her early years. Her story is a tale of savagery, formulated and expressed over the decades. Her behavior made no sense to the vulnerable and sensitive child that I was. Her secretive behavior, shared only between the two of us, was “blind cruelty.”

Generally, she had enough awareness to avoid exposing that boundary-violating behavior in front of others. Occasionally, she would slip up and be witnessed outside the front door. She was unable to, in any way, understand her own demonic episodes. We all need to become aware of what trauma is, what it does, and how it can be approached and treated in our developing understanding of human boundaries and our need for love.

What is trauma? Trauma is an emotional imprinting in our nervous system. An intense, dramatic experience can register emotionally, develop, or serve as the genesis of an “internalized,” reactive emotional state or wound. It can take on a life of its own. Trauma is the internalized, captured, emotion imprinting that “sticks,” establishing the genesis of an inner living nightmare.

BLIND CRUELTY
By Jesse Donahue © 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is a lasting impact of early approval‐seeking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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

A small girl, face redacted, is being exploited. She was about the same age as I was when things started happening to me. While I couldn’t see her face, I saw enough to recognize that she looked somewhat like me at that age. I hadn’t slept well the night before, and my pain levels were already bad. I felt sick, hollowed out, and numb. I didn’t really make it out of bed. I cried off and on all day, barely eating, not wanting to talk. 

These are trying times for survivors of childhood sexual abuse (CSA). As troves of files from one of the world’s most notorious modern sexual abuse scandals are released in waves, survivors are confronted with unwelcome images and details that can be deeply triggering. 

The names of victims were among the unredacted information—a reminder of how painful this can be for those who have continued to suffer in the public eye. Not only are we seeing the photos and emails, we’re also subjected to endless jokes, memes, speculation, sensationalized clickbait, doubt and accusations of evidence of being falsified, dismissals from people saying that this not a big deal and it’s all in the past and we should move on, as well as cries to our fellow citizens to take off the blinders and finally see what’s being presented to the world.  

It’s a lot.  

More than some of our nervous systems can handle.  

As people around the world reckon with terrors beyond their imaginations, those of us who had such things be our unfortunate reality are left to witness their disbelief and horror. As a survivor, I get a unique view into how our voices have been silenced. I remind myself that my reaction can be jaded because these experiences are so deeply embedded in my body that I lived in a state of chronic dissociation for years.   

I had the good fortune to be part of an amazing program for survivors of childhood sexual abuse last year. Rachel Grant’s Beyond Surviving was one of the best programs I’ve encountered on my healing journey. It was also one of the most difficult: I spoke about things that I’d never said out loud before. The trauma release sessions left me so exhausted that my whole body ached for days. With every release of evidence from the files these days, it tests my ability to cope and to maintain resilience.  

I work in digital strategy, and spending time on social media is a core part of my job. I’ve gathered some tips to help practice self-care and wanted to share them here. While no one solution will take care of the problems 100%, a mixture can at least greatly reduce exposure to content you’d rather not see.  

1. Every major social platform has features to block content by keywords. While this doesn’t block everything, it can take care of a lot.  

2. Report and block accounts that are sharing child sexual abuse materials (CSAM), or really, anything you could do without. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re living in a bubble. As humans, we’re not meant to be drowning in a tsunami of content. While some major platforms aren’t great about removing content, blocking, or muting can do a lot to help your mental health!

3. Use a paid social media blocking app if you’re struggling with the temptation to stay informed. As survivors, we may have an urge to support and bear witness to our fellow survivors. It’s up to you to decide what your limit is.  

4. If a particular channel is overloaded with CSAM or rage bait designed to get people arguing, maybe it’s time to stop visiting. Give it a break, or just uninstall the app. Uninstall all of them if you have to, and take an extended break for as long as you need to.  

5. Contact your local representatives and senators and ask them to support sensible measures to prohibit AI-generated CSAM, which has been a growing problem making headlines.  

6. And while this seems like common sense, take it from someone who’s been known to get enmeshed from time to time: don’t jump into the fray. There are literally millions of bots and paid trolls who are seeking to get people upset with rage bait. They may have normal profile pics and bios, and in the fleeting, heated moments of online debates, you may be tempted to argue. Don’t feed the trolls! See point 2—block or mute accounts freely. Don’t share triggering content in an effort to shock people into understanding the trauma of being a survivor. It may get you banned, and arguing online often results in the backfire effect, in which the person you’re arguing with doubles down and gets even more aggressive.  

7. If you have a support system, ask for help! When I’m on my laptop or phone, my husband will sometimes pass by and check in: asking if I’m okay, am I doomscrolling? Do I need to take a break?  

Even though I’ve described myself as “chronically online” for years, events of the past couple of years have started to change me. I do my work on social media as needed, but my evenings are now reserved for non-digital activities. I crochet. I work on art. I read books or write in a journal. According to my symptom tracker, there’s a noticeable improvement in my mood and emotional health since I’ve started doing so. 

I was born long before social media existed, and I’m finding a lot of value in returning to an offline life as much as I feasibly can.  

Photo Credit: Pixabay

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