Those in the complex trauma community, especially myself, are well aware that childhood interpersonal relationships set the stage for toxic patterns like codependency—experiences that echo and intensify those childhood violations of safety and worth.

The Onset of Abuse and Humiliation

My own childhood was marked by toxic parenting and relational trauma, beginning at age 6 when my mother remarried. Soon after, life became a living nightmare as I endured the hardships of neglect, physical and emotional abuse, displacement from home, and a dysfunctional family history. These violations of dignity and safety created deep anguish, instability from neglect, issues with self-worth, fear of abandoment and shame for being who I am.

Confronting the Pain and Building Resilience

Withdrawal, hypervigilance, and distrust are core elements of CPTSD that linger into adulthood.

I first wrote about these experiences in the third person to keep some emotional distance. Facing them directly now shows how this long-lasting relationship trauma shaped my ability to bounce back, along with a practical side that wanted to heal my emotional wounds.

Toxic Patterns  

Strangely, in my line of work, I frequently encounter women—and men—who seem determined to prove they are unworthy of healthy, reciprocal love. They repeat cycles of painful relationship choices, often returning to dynamics that echo earlier wounds. Because early life shapes how you view love. While it is tempting to simply blame “a bad childhood,” unresolved CPTSD frequently plants the seeds for these patterns.

What Codependency Looks Like

Unhealed trauma often leads to codependency: a pattern where people put others’ needs first, ignore their own needs, and look for approval by trying to fix, please, or take care of others—often in unfair, one-sided, or even toxic relationships.

Ego and the Marriage Trap: A Cautionary Tale

I hold firmly to the belief that each of us carries an innate code of ethics—an internal compass distinguishing right from wrong. Despite the depth of my own childhood pain, I have never intentionally harmed another person emotionally or physically, and I never will if I can help it.

Consider the messy marriage of my friend Rene. Her husband Charles had a shall we say, ”momma” complex bordering on unhealthy attachment to a narcissistic parent. Everything he did was with the intention of seeking her approval. So tied was he to his mother’s apron strings that the marriage suffered.

Both partners were stubborn and ego-driven; together, they were a disaster waiting to happen. They walked on eggshells around each other, clashed constantly, and allowed “mother-in-law” interference, financial stress, and family pressure to widen the rift. A few years after his mom’s passing, Charles became a victim of a deadly disease.

Yet, despite Rene nursing her husband through the debilitating disease—a moment one might expect to cultivate closeness—nothing really changed. They ended up living in separate parts of the same house. Her once-vibrant self-respect eroded into a chronic state of pessimism and fear. Individually, both were decent people; together, their colliding egos poisoned the bond. While pride and stonewalling create isolation in relationships, it is vulnerability and love that disarm conflict.

The Poison of Unresolved Anger: Paulina’s Story

Hatred and prolonged anger corrode the body and mind. My friend Paulina endured severe childhood sexual abuse from a cousin at age 9 and buried it deeply. At 21, she entered an abusive marriage, enduring beatings and infidelity while pregnant, all for the sake of her child. When she discovered the cheating, her rage erupted. She divorced, fought in court, and won a substantial settlement, becoming financially independent overnight.

Years later, Paulina met a genuinely kind, loving man. Yet she could not fully receive his love—unresolved rage, fear, and shame blocked her. Despite my encouragement to focus on the present, she felt compelled to seek confrontation and closure with her childhood abuser. Traveling to her remote village, we discovered the abuser had passed away. The news brought a partial release: she no longer needed to confront him. But the man who had waited patiently for her had, under family pressure, married someone else. Heartbroken but ultimately free from the grip of hatred, she continues to seek true love, and I hold hope for her.

The Deeper Message in The Pain

These experiences—my own childhood, Rene ’s marriage, Paulina ’s journey—illustrate how unhealed trauma fuels codependent habits. It increases patterns of chronic people-pleasing, blurred boundaries, attracting or remaining with unhealthy partners, and attempting to “repair” old wounds through current relationships.

Recognizing the Signs of Trauma

Trauma from codependent dynamics often shows up as persistent feelings of unworthiness, hyper-responsibility for others’ emotions, chronic anxiety in relationships, and a deep fear of abandonment. Survivors may struggle with self-trust, feel empty when alone, or experience physical symptoms such as tension, digestive issues, or exhaustion from the constant emotional upheavals.

Common warning signs include:

• Martyr Syndrome. Over-focusing on a partner’s needs while ignoring your own.
• Saviour complex: Feeling responsible for fixing or controlling their behavior.
• Abandonment issues: Intense fear of rejection that leads to bending backwards in excessive compromise
• Toxicity: Attracting or staying in unbalanced, abusive relationships
• Chronic resentment, suppressed anger, or emotional numbness.
• Difficulty saying “no” without overwhelming guilt.

The Secrecy of Silence

Many remain silent about codependent patterns due to profound shame. Thinking they seem “too needy” or “defective”, fear that speaking up will lead to abandonment, or the internalized belief that enduring pain proves love and loyalty. This enforced silence keeps the trauma cycle alive while ingraining powerlessness.

Codependency can both originate from and increase CPTSD. Childhood relational wounds condition you for adult trauma bonding, where love feels conditional. The constant relational strain magnifies toxic shame and emotional flashbacks, reinforcing feelings of unworthiness and isolation. Understanding this link to codependency is a core part of CPTSD recovery.

Healing the Inner Child.

Healing begins with turning toward the wounded inner child with the compassion that was missing in the past. Through gentle practices such as inner-child visualization, therapeutic writing, somatic grounding, or mirror work, survivors can offer themselves the self-validation, safety, and unconditional acceptance they were once denied. Re-parenting oneself involves setting healthy boundaries, practicing self-soothing, and gradually rebuilding self-worth independent of external approval.

The Bottom Line: Finding Help is the First Step to Healing and Recovery

Trauma-Informed Steps for Support and Healing for Survivors:

• Validate your experience: The patterns were survival strategies, not character flaws.
• Practice boundary-setting: Start small—say “no” without explanation or apology.
• Regulate the nervous system: Use breathwork, grounding exercises, or body scans to interrupt dysregulation.
• Seek specialized support: Work with therapists trained in complex trauma, attachment, or codependency (e.g., using EMDR, IFS, or somatic approaches).
• Cultivate self-compassion: Use daily affirmations rooted in truth (“I am worthy of mutual, respectful love”).

CPTSD Foundation offers daily support, trauma-informed resources, blogs, and safe communities to help heal from childhood relational trauma and codependency. Explore attachment wounds, neurodiversity, and practical strategies to reduce isolation and rebuild your life.

Your pain is valid. Healing isn’t linear—every small act of self-kindness builds resilience and opens the door to real connection. You’re worthy of peace, mutual love, and full recovery. Help is available—reach out.

Support

Helplines and Immediate Support: If you are in crisis or need urgent support:

• CPTSD Foundation Help Centre
• US: Crisis Text Line – Text HOME to 741741 (24/7); National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – Call or text 988.
• International: Local crisis hotlines, mental health services, or trusted professionals.

References and sources:

• Overcoming Codependency | CPTSDfoundation.org
• Childhood Trauma and Codependency: Is There a Link?
• How Trauma Can Result in Codependency
• Codependency & CPTSD: Understanding & Healing.
• Codependency and Childhood Trauma: Is There a Link?.

Photo by DICSON on Unsplash

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

Jenney Clark

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

jenneyclark.com/

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

Do you fear getting close to others?

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

Sadly, isolation is becoming easier.

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

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

On the flipside, are you afraid to be alone?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is black and white no longer working for you?

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

If you’re scared to be with people…

Or you’re scared to be alone…

If your coping strategies are no longer working…

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

If your mental health is worsening…

If you still feel lonely or scared or unloved…

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

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

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

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

Robyn Brickel

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

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

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

To contact Robyn directly:

Robyn@RobynBrickel.com

www.BrickelandAssociates.com

brickelandassociates.com/

Subtle Behavioral Patterns Rooted in Trauma

Studies indicate that unresolved trauma can alter a person’s behavioral responses without them being consciously aware. Several common habits may, in some cases, be linked to past experiences:

• Over-explaining or over-apologizing – Research suggests that individuals who grew up in environments where mistakes led to punishment or emotional withdrawal may develop a heightened sense of needing to justify their actions or preemptively apologize. This can be an adaptive response rooted in early-life experiences rather than a personality quirk.
• Perfectionism and Hyper-Productivity – Some trauma survivors exhibit heightened perfectionism, a trait that studies have associated with childhood environments where self-worth was linked to achievement or performance. The brain may interpret errors as potential threats, reinforcing a need for control over outcomes.
• Chronic procrastination and difficulty making decisions – Psychological findings suggest that trauma can interfere with executive functioning, leading to avoidance behaviors that are sometimes misinterpreted as laziness or a lack of motivation. Some individuals experience decision paralysis, fearing that making the wrong choice could lead to negative consequences similar to past experiences.
• Hyper-awareness of others’ moods – Experts in trauma psychology note that heightened sensitivity to tone, body language, or non-verbal cues, such as certain scents and sounds, can be an adaptive trait developed in unpredictable or emotionally volatile environments. This heightened vigilance may persist even in safe relationships.

Trauma’s Influence on Physical Health

The connection between trauma and physical health is well-documented in medical literature. Studies published in the field of psychoneuroimmunology have found links between unresolved trauma and various chronic health conditions, including:

• Chronic pain and autoimmune disorders – Some research suggests that trauma-related stress can contribute to inflammation and dysregulation of the immune system, leading to persistent physical symptoms.
• Tension-related headaches and muscle pain – A study in neurobiology highlights that prolonged stress responses can lead to hyperactivation of the nervous system, contributing to chronic tension.
• Digestive issues – The gut-brain axis is a well-studied area in medical science, and findings suggest that trauma can impact gut health, leading to irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) or other digestive disturbances.

Decision-Making and Relationship Dynamics

Behavioral psychologists have observed patterns in how unresolved trauma may shape relationships and life choices:

• Attraction to familiar patterns – Studies on attachment and trauma suggest that individuals may unconsciously seek relationships that mimic past dynamics, even if those relationships are unhealthy.
• Fear of abandonment vs. hyper-independence – Research indicates that trauma survivors may react to relational stress in different ways—some may become overly dependent on others for validation, while others may push people away to maintain control over emotional safety.
• Difficulty setting boundaries – Psychological studies highlight that individuals with unresolved trauma may struggle to enforce boundaries, often prioritizing others’ needs over their own due to past conditioning.

Unresolved Trauma in Professional and Social Environments

The workplace and social interactions can also reveal hidden trauma responses:

• Workaholism and burnout – Some trauma survivors develop a strong identity tied to professional success as a means of maintaining stability and self-worth.
• Avoidance of conflict – Psychological literature has examined how past trauma can lead to discomfort with confrontation, causing individuals to avoid advocating for themselves.
• Overcommitting or people-pleasing – Some trauma survivors exhibit an ingrained pattern of overextending themselves to gain approval or avoid rejection.

Closing Thoughts

Unresolved trauma can manifest in ways that are often misinterpreted as simple personality traits or lifestyle choices. While not all individuals who exhibit these behaviors have experienced trauma, research continues to explore the subtle ways in which past experiences shape daily life. By recognizing these signs, individuals may gain a better understanding of their behavioral patterns and seek appropriate support. Understanding the complexities of trauma remains a growing area of research in psychology, neuroscience, and behavioral science. Further studies continue to uncover new insights into how trauma silently influences both mental and physical health, decision-making, and interpersonal relationships.

Photo by Dan Gribbin on Unsplash

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

Dr. Mozelle Martin

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

www.InkProfiler.com

There was no blood, just a strong gas smell from the lawnmower. A tarp is placed strategically on the concrete floor. Maybe it was covering up the blood? But she was lying on top of it. Where was the blood where?! The gun was next to her stiff form; her fingers curled up grotesquely, sparkly rings flashing merrily in the artificial light, but no blood. I could just see her face, frozen in her last moments; her makeup looked painted on. The magenta fabric bunched up in derisive ruffles. The air was so heavy in the room and oppressive as if it were July instead of October. I could smell the taint of something rancid, and when I realized it was my own vomit on my favorite pair of shoes, I felt surprised, shocked even because I didn’t remember throwing up.

Once upon a time, a little girl tried to be everything her Mama wanted her to be: perfect in her dresses, pristine, and calm. But she could never get it right. She was always making mistakes, climbing a tree and ripping her dress or laughing too loud.

Her Mama said she had to be punished, and so it began…a cycle of emotional, physical, and narcissistic abuse that would last her whole life until her Mama decided she’d had enough of this world and ended it all one rainy night.

After the final act is completed, there are so many questions, so much grief, so much shame, could I have done more, how did I not see it had escalated to this? Did I see it and ignore the signs? What kind of monster am I not to save her? I didn’t know how to feel; she was so abusive, but she was my Mom.

So many unanswered loops played on auto-repeat. The grief when an abuser dies is unlike any other. There is a missing, but not of the person; more of a core knowledge of any chance for repair is completely obliterated. I didn’t know how to feel, and what I felt seemed false and wrong.

For me, my Mom’s suicide was the culmination of years of enduring painful emotional abuse and narcissism. She lived her life like a steamroller, flattening anyone in her path who got in her way, including her children and especially her daughter.

The trauma of her suicide was two-fold: the actual event of the shooting and the subsequent love-hate shame & grief bind, which fractured my hard-earned sense of self.

I wanted to say so many things. Everything was trapped inside, within a voiceless soul. Why wouldn’t you get help? The shame was magnified by the realization that my life was easier with her gone. Then there was the shame of why I hadn’t acted more strongly, forcing her to get evaluated. Was it my fault? Layer upon layer of blame, grief, shame, and hurt.

Breathe. In. Out. Feel your lungs expand and hold. The walls aren’t really closing in. Breathe slowly out as if you are exhaling through a straw. The heavy weight of the stares of the other people in the room watching you fall apart, they don’t matter. It’s okay. At least they aren’t mocking you, right? That’s what she did when someone was suffering. Maybe they think it’s my fault too. I still can’t see any blood, but I do see the gun shot wound, it’s smaller than I think it should be. I mean, if it takes someone from alive one minute to dead the next, shouldn’t it be huge, a monumental hole that took life away?

People act differently with suicide. Plastic pauses and judgment. Human beings want to be able to help someone in heavy grief, and when it’s natural causes, there is nothing that really can be said to comfort them, but they try.

When someone dies by suicide, there are lots of side-eye glances, statements of ‘I don’t know what to say,’ which is actually better than people who say, ‘well at least she’s out of pain now,’ or ‘she’s in a better place.’

Those statements from well-meaning friends and family slew my rawness. How could suicide be better than staying here and dealing with your trauma, shame, and pain? Why are we so afraid to say, ‘I’m messed up?’ We would rather take the most drastic action of suicide, rather than face our own emotional chaos.

As sick and dysfunctional as it was, I realized in a frozen moment of time that I had no one. I began to sleep less, drink more, and work harder not to feel my feelings. I was still a Mom, even though I didn’t have one. I had to work and support and smile through homework questions and teeth-brushing. The tremendous weight of the loss was a dark cloak that shifted my lens of perspective from I’m working to be the better version of me to Nothing matters anymore, my hope was stripped away, and I was, once again, invisible.

It was a total reset, as I had spent two decades finding my voice and working in therapy, several stints of EMDR, and reading books on emotional, physical, and narcissistic abuse, but none of the healing I had worked so hard on seemed evident anymore. Traumas revitalized, and I was on top of the roller coaster again.

Oh god, I woke myself up again screaming and crying; the nightmares are so vivid. Drowning in the sheets, someone is dragging hot pokers across my whimpering skin, I can’t stop shaking, panting. Just a dream, not real. It’s the same one, I’m standing in the garage and she stands up, holding her bright blouse to her chest and saying, it’s your fault, you did this to me. I try to talk, scream, yell, but I can’t. I put my fingers on my lips, except I have no mouth, nothing to open to let the words escape. I sink to my knees and onto the frigid floor as she stands over me laughing…you will never forget now, will you, she says. She is right.

I was at ground zero, everything I had learned didn’t apply because every day the loop was on repeat: I let my Mom die. The sound of my heart breaking was not actually a sonic boom, it was more like a gentle plink of glass splintering, the devastating cracks created gaping holes.

The services were a joke. These people didn’t know her, crying and sobbing about what a beautiful, loving person she was. What a crock. She was mean and foul on a good day. She only acted like she loved you when she wanted something. I held my son on my lap, and my daughter clung to my hand. Never would I do this to them. They didn’t even know her; she hadn’t wanted to spend time with them when she was alive. How could she do it? She wrote my name and number on a Post-it note and left it on the kitchen table before calling 911. I listened to the tape of her call, she sounded so calm, detached. Her decision was final.

During the years of heavy grief and shame, my heart felt awkward in my chest. Its shriveled form sharply didn’t fit anymore. Grief is hard enough to navigate when you love someone who passes. In the death event of your biggest abuser, the grief is so complicated and murky that you can feel like you are literally drowning in emotions.

Fragments of shame, loss, and bleakness filled my heart and mind. I truly felt I was responsible. Her suicide had made the already long struggle of dealing with my abuse into a vast and empty wasteland where nothing ever felt right. I missed her, I didn’t. I hated her for how she had treated me, but I loved her and wanted her love. It was a spiraling quagmire of despair, laden with questioning my worth with no end in sight, and the vision of her lying on the cold concrete was bleached into my mind.

She loved the holidays. Our house always looked like something out of a Christmas card, with carols playing in the background. She wrapped up empty presents and placed them under the tree with care. Once, when my son was little, and we were invited over, he saw them and yelled, ‘Santa came!’ and took off running. She screamed at him to stop and I’ll never forget the look on his face, the beautiful, kissable cheeks as tears welled up in his eyes, I don’t think anyone had ever screamed at him like that before. She said, ‘The presents are empty, they are just for show, get away from them!’ We stared at her, and all I could think was what a metaphor for her life.

I had someone say to me once, almost a year after it happened, you just have to let it go. It happened; how long are you going to hold onto it? I was enraged. How can you judge when you haven’t walked in my shoes? I didn’t have an answer; I just knew that if anything were going to change, it would not be on a timeline I could dictate. I was so tired of feeling like I had the wrong emotions.

People start to steer clear of you when you have grieved for ‘too long.’ Shame surfaced again and again, as I couldn’t just ‘get over it,’ I knew it was more than just her death; it was also the chaos and pain because of a million unresolved splinters of trauma from my childhood, as well as her final act. I kept asking my therapist, how do I not go under with this? How do I survive? Her answer is one foot in front of the other, and when you can’t move anymore, stop for the day. It will take time, but you will survive. You have all along.

It was a joke, I think. Not sure who I was listening to or if I caught part, as I was back to dissociating constantly. It’s one of those not-really-funny moments that just seem so funny. Someone said a play on words, maybe a cheese pun and I felt it in my chest, a little flutter and it was directly connected to my face, it had to have been, because I smiled. I smiled a real smile for the first time in I don’t know how long. Thought rushed in, the shame roared instantly, do I deserve to smile? My inner critic said no. My kind inner coach, who was growing louder all the time due to my therapist, who kept pounding home that this wasn’t my fault, said YES.

Today, as I reflect back, I can’t pinpoint exactly when I laughed again or didn’t end the day in tears. I just know that a little burbling of laughter bubbled up one day. It was unexpected, and I felt like I wanted to turn around and say who did that? Who made that sound?

And it was me.

The healing started to glimmer through the fissures in my heart in fits and starts. I began to heal through other people who cared, held space with me, saw me, and didn’t walk away when I couldn’t ‘just let go.’ My beautiful, shattered heart began to beat again.

Healing after the loss was agonizingly slow. Watching the rest of the world continue on felt unfair. I would look at others talking about their problems and feel angry—what does this matter? Don’t you know how fast it can all go? Why are you worrying about trivial things?

The healing of a grief & shame bind is complicated, there are a million moments when sadness overwhelms and shame rushes to the surface. Navigating the rocky terrain, holding onto hope when you have none, and just going through the motions of daily life feels so futile. It feels wrong somehow, to still be standing, breathing, functioning, in the face of such despair.

As I kept trudging the long road of mending a fragmented heart, regulating my nervous system, which was in a state of constant hypervigilance, and learning to love myself, relief from the pain was incremental. It was minute pieces at a time; my inner critic was loud, demanding, and boisterous.

I would stop when my head was spinning, look at the thoughts, and say, ‘That is a lie and not who I am.’ Little shifts were happening inside of me when I would have success, even if no one else termed it as that. I would smile inwardly and feel my heart expand. Sometimes, I could take a deep breath. I got a taste of empowerment and wanted more. My strength was starting to shiver up through the cracks in my heart, and the darkness was slowly receding.

I planted tulips for years in the fall, around the anniversary of her death. They were a tribute to a life unfulfilled, mental illness, and hope. They were a celebration of mine, and I survived. They are such happy flowers, the bright colors resonating. I hope she is at peace.

I wasn’t to blame for her choices or her undiagnosed mental illness. There was no shame in not being the perfect daughter of a narcissist. The thought is laughable, I could never have lived up to her ever-changing expectations of perfection. I wasn’t alone, even though I felt alone. I mattered, even when it didn’t occur to me to think I should. The grief was overwhelming until it released a little at a time. The shame could tank me, take me down for days.

Today, I think of my Mom and feel sadness for her, the nature of her mental illness, a never-ending whirl of emotions. I feel sadness for myself, too; I couldn’t have done it any differently than I did, coming out of my family with toxic/pervasive shame, addiction, and codependency as the safeguards of protection my brain used. Giving in and going numb was my response to the threat. I don’t live in shame or blame myself as much. The question of whether I miss her in my life is a complicated one. I remember times when she was happy and seemed to like me and her life, but those are limited, surreal memories. Mostly, I know how I could never please her and how often it usually ended in pain.

The transformation from a toxic, pervasive shame bind with grief is tremendously liberating and hard freaking work. The nature of shame is to hide and be invisible, and I believe it saved my life today. Its agenda is to protect, and it doesn’t care if my feelings get hurt in the process. The inner critic is the voice of toxic shame, but it is a process that grows with us.

For me, it mirrored the things my parents and brother said and did to me, especially my Mom, and became internalized quickly, so it felt like who I was as an adult. But because shame is the master emotion, and it binds with other primary emotions, I was an adult with multiple shame binds. The toxicity gave no compassion for the standards the binds demanded, and it was my baseline.

In my case, shame turned toxic because of chronic abuse and emotional neglect. My protection was self-abandonment. If I didn’t talk back, just agreed with what was going on, then maybe it wouldn’t escalate even more. The solution then became the problem, as I believed their version of me. When she died by suicide, of course it was my fault, there was no other explanation. But I couldn’t have done it any differently.

The beautiful differences between toxic/pervasive shame and healthy shame can show us that we are not at fault for everything happening around us. It helps me to accept limitations and know that I’m good at some things and not good at others, and that’s okay. Healthy shame is always going to be a ‘work-in-process’ for me because, with the death of a primary caregiver who was abusive and the tragic way she died, it’s layer upon layer, like the preverbal onion peeling back.

I can have healthy sadness, healthy anger, and healthy grief; we had a complex relationship, but the grief is not bound up in shame, for the most part. The help I received from professionals, the caring, attunement, and understanding without judgment, holding a safe container for me to walk through all my emotions, was intrinsic to the healing I’ve done. Without the help of professionals and the caring tribe of friends I have, I don’t think I would be in the place I am today.

And that is truly one of the finest gifts I’ve ever earned as a human being struggling to do the best I can.

Each day is a place I’ve never been before. The nightmare comes every so often, the thoughts of ‘what if…’ but I don’t stay there as long. I have dedicated myself to helping other trauma survivors deal with the hand they were dealt. Aside from my children, there is nothing more rewarding in my life. We get to look through the lies abuse teaches us, through the blame others project onto us while taking responsibility for ourselves. I am able to look in the mirror today and know I am a worthy human being who survived terrible atrocities and lived to advocate for other invisible ones. There is absolutely no shame in what was done to us. I see you every time I look in that mirror, and your heart is beautiful, too. Please don’t go under like I thought I would. You can do this: survive and thrive, give and receive. I believe in you.

If you are struggling with suicide loss, I encourage reaching out, even when it hurts so much you don’t know if you can breathe one more second. Lean on others who love and support you, and discern who is safe. Find what tools work for you, manage the shame spirals, and hold onto them fiercely.

My heart is heavy for anyone in the place of utter desolate despair. There are no words sometimes. It took me over two years to write and finish this article, the layers are so deep, the grief so keening and the healing so profound. Please know some days are harder than others, but there are others who have been there too, and you aren’t alone. You matter.

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.

Jennifer Kindera

As a Certified Trauma Recovery Coach Supervisor and Certified Healing Shame Practitioner, my focus at Jennifer Kindera Coaching is to help clients navigate their potential traumas which may be holding them back from living life to their fullest capacity. Trauma recovery coaching and healing shame takes time, but with an honest, inclusive, and compassionate space for the unfolding of your life journey, you can work to unravel the binds of trauma and shame to promote your capacity for healing and growth.

www.jenniferkindera.com

By now, most of you have heard of the four trauma responses: fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. These four essential reactions are caused when you feel stressed, traumatized, or in danger.

This article will focus on the freeze and fawn responses related to codependency and ways to counteract them.

What are the Freeze and Fawn Responses

Freeze is your body’s biological reaction to a situation where you cannot escape, that causes you to shut down and literally freeze. The freeze response causes symptoms like the following:

• Your heart rate decreases.
• You dissociate to detach from what is happening.
• You may feel numb.
• You are immobilized where you feel you cannot move your legs or arms.
• You may find you are holding your breath.
• You feel confused.
• You have problems speaking.
• You are not able to act or decide.
• You lack focus and have trouble concentrating.

Another angle to consider is that, like all animals, sometimes playing dead or freezing in a very quiet stance can save your life. It is not uncommon for people who are being sexually assaulted to become immobile and incapable of running away or fighting.

Fawn is different. You may fawn when it feels safer to be submissive and obedient to your attacker than any of the three other responses. Fawning causes you to please and appease someone else instead of taking care of your needs. The most common incidence where fawn is used may be in an abusive situation, such as a child who cannot escape their attacker. The child might feel and indeed be safer if they fawn.

There are definitive signs that the fawn response is activated, which include the following:

• You have a hard time saying “no.”
• You are a people-pleaser.
• You pretend to agree with others.
• You do what you are told no matter what the consequences to you.
• You put other’s needs before your own.
• You are not able to set and maintain healthy boundaries.

As one can see, neither response is a healthy way to conduct one’s life. The freeze and fawn responses are rarely equal happiness and are a deterrent to doing well as an adult.

Freeze/Fawn and Codependency

Too often, adults who were abused as children grow up trying to appease and please all the people in their lives just as they did when trying to survive when they were younger. When the adult freezes and fawns over other adults, it is called codependency.

Codependency is an attempt by an adult — who grew up in a home that was harsh, critical, unforgiving, and full of abandonment and judgment — to relate to others.

Codependent adults suffer from a disorder born of complex trauma called complex post-traumatic stress disorder, a response to repeated and severe abuse and neglect.

The caretaking behaviors exhibited by those with CPTSD may have worked to reduce abuse in the past, but they are harmful to adult relationships. With codependency, the adult who has complex post-traumatic stress disorder doesn’t pay enough attention to their own needs and instead focuses entirely on the needs and wants of others, making them a sitting duck for narcissists.

Codependency has a spectrum ranging from minimal to becoming totally fused in the relationship, asking themselves what “we” need instead of what “I” need.

The Neurological Roots of the Freeze/Fawn Response

The human brain is hard-wired for empathy, instincts, and reflexes that help guide a person throughout life. Babies are born to reach out for love, seek security, and a sense of belonging.

When children don’t find the nurturing and love they need to feel safe, they will begin to form attachment styles that are not healthy, and that will last their entire life. Babies and older children are extremely good at reading their caregivers through their body language and how nurturing they are through mirror neurons (brain cells).

Mirror neurons help humans process facial expressions and interactions between individuals and those around them. This type of brain cell allows us to perceive other feelings without using any words. These mirror neurons enable a child to conform better to an abusive relationship because they learn to fawn to survive.

However, while fawning can prevent tragedy and supply some measure of safety, children who grow up using this survival tactic often have adverse mental health outcomes such as anxiety and depression.

Healing the Freeze/Fawn (Codependent) Response

One might use many techniques to overcome the fawn/freeze or codependence response.

First, one must understand where codependency initiates and what causes the behavior. Knowing yourself and what you went through as a child aids in the healing process by allowing you not to be a mystery to yourself. If you do not understand where the freeze and fawn responses initiated, it isn’t easy to overcome them.

Explore how your body holds your fear and how the freeze/fawn response makes you feel physically. Most people who experience codependency have a great deal of self-loathing. Because they hate themselves, codependent folks do not treat themselves well and are sitting ducks to become hooked at the hip with someone else. This self-hate is keenly felt in the body as chronic pain and eating disorders, to name a few.

Another way to deal with the freeze/fawn response is to learn to express your needs and wants. This task is difficult at best as we have been conditioned to not stand up for our needs or wants. Instead, we tend to believe we are doing great things by helping others when we are avoiding ourselves all along. Facing your fears and managing your trauma responses also requires saying the tiny word NO, which may turn out to be the most helpful word in the English language, especially when it is used as a complete sentence.

It is also critical to put yourself first. If you do not put yourself first, you cannot help anyone, including your children. Pause during your busy day to consider whether you have cared for your emotional and physical needs. Through this process, you will learn to loathe yourself much less and even to love yourself.

Ending Our Time Together

No one likes to admit they have problems with codependency, as in our society today, the word brings with it so much stigma. However, you were not born codependent; you learned very early that the freeze/fawn response would help you survive, emotionally and sometimes physically.

There is no shame in having a freeze/fawn response that is out of control. Codependency comes naturally to those who develop complex post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of childhood trauma.

I am a prime example of a person who has a codependent personality. I have significant problems with not thinking for myself, and when I do, I will quickly fawn to protect myself. I often get up in the morning asking myself regarding my brother, who I live with, “How are we feeling today?” although he does not ask for my response.

Living with a runaway freeze/fawn response is not easy, and I am working diligently to begin showing my true feelings toward everyone in my family.

If you, like me, have a problem with codependency, do not despair. Overcoming anything takes time, and I believe in both of us.

“When we begin to set boundaries with people we love, a really hard thing happens: they hurt. They may feel a hole where you used to plug up their aloneness, their disorganization, or their financial irresponsibility. Whatever it is, they will feel a loss. If you love them, this will be difficult for you to watch. But, when you are dealing with someone who is hurting, remember that your boundaries are both necessary for you and helpful for them. If you have been enabling them to be irresponsible, your limit setting may nudge them toward responsibility.” — Henry Cloud

“When you say Yes to others, make sure you are not saying No to yourself.” — Paulo Coelho

References

 Roelofs K. “Freeze for action: neurobiological mechanisms in animal and human freezing.” Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences. 2017;372(1718):20160206. doi:10.1098/rstb.2016.0206‌.

Schmidt NB, Richey JA, Zvolensky MJ, Maner JK. “Exploring human freeze responses to a threat stressor.” Journal of Behavior Therapy and Experimental Psychiatry. 2008;39(3):292-304. doi:10.1016/j.jbtep.2007.08.002‌.

Trauma-Informed Partner Support

Since CPTSD Foundation began, we’ve understood the critical role that supportive partners play in the life of a trauma survivor. Spouses, partners, caregivers, siblings, and anyone who is directly involved in the daily life of an adult survivor of complex trauma.

This program provides that safe place of encouragement, support, information, and validation that supportive partners and helpers need. You are safe here and among others who understand the challenges of helping a survivor navigate daily life.

To sign up, go to https://cptsdfoundation.org/partners/

 The Pride Program

CPTSD Foundation wishes to invite you to our Pride Program, which is offered weekly on Circle. In Pride, we discuss important topics related to complex trauma and how it has affected our lives. The program is led by a fantastic person who understands the issues facing the LGBTQIA+ community.

Come as you are, take what you like, and leave the rest.

The program is offered every Thursday at 7 pm Eastern time through the Circle app. If you are interested, you can find information here. If you are interested, don’t hesitate to contact the support team of CPTSD Foundation and sign up.

We look forward to seeing you there.

Shirley Davis

My name is Shirley Davis and I am a freelance writer with over 40-years- experience writing short stories and poetry. Living as I do among the corn and bean fields of Illinois (USA), working from home using the Internet has become the best way to communicate with the world. My interests are wide and varied. I love any kind of science and read several research papers per week to satisfy my curiosity. I have earned an Associate Degree in Psychology and enjoy writing books on the subjects that most interest me.

www.learnaboutdid.com

Codependency is a fawning response in the nervous system. Everything boils down to the nervous system and emotional safety; we can’t control this within ourselves, this drive to stay safe. The brain’s first order of business is to protect the body. Fawn types seek safety by merging with the needs, wishes, and demands of others.

In another article where I chronicle my journey with Codependency — because let’s face it, we don’t end up in this work by accident — I talk about it as, “ I sacrificed my own needs, wants, and thoughts to satisfy someone else in hopes that they would love me and never abandon me.” One of the keys to this statement is the abandonment piece. (Read the full article here.)

The dysfunctional family role of Scapegoat is the person in the family who is groomed to accept all the responsibility, the fault, the blame, and the shame

So that begs the question, how do we get here?

Growing up in abuse and trauma, the dysfunctional family role of Scapegoat is the person in the family who is groomed to accept all the responsibility, the fault, the blame, and the shame. It’s the way the abusers discharge their own shame, blame, and hurt onto another person so they can escape the intense emotional responses. Of course, we know it doesn’t work, but that’s the unconscious intent.

And, being on the receiving end of that is one of the foundational pieces in our toxic, pervasive shame, because the Scapegoat is seen as a threat to the dysfunctional family, and are barraged with mental and emotional abuse. It’s daily emotional abandonment from the people who are supposed to care about and for you.

Why are scapegoated children a threat? A scapegoat child’s growth threatens the abusive parent’s delicate, brittle, and bloated self-worth. Growth is an amazing process for a child, figuring out in healthy circumstances what they like, and what they are good at. It’s a beautiful, wondrous process and the abusive parent who casts the child into the scapegoat role can only be threatened by this.

Being told you are selfish, you never can measure up to others, and everything you do is wrong, paves the way for the abandonment of our emotions and core self. We essentially co-opt the abusive words and in shame’s effort to protect us, turn them on ourselves for sometimes decades after we are out of that terrorizing situation.

This toxicity and intense trapped emotions are turned on oneself and that is what we bring into our adulthood

Basically, when a child is the dumping ground of criticism, judgment, and harsh treatment, they still have all the emotions rise up in response to it, such as anger, sadness, and grief, but there is nowhere for it to go as it isn’t safe to express it. This toxicity and intense trapped emotions are turned on oneself and that is what we bring into our adulthood.

The child adapts to this behavior and it becomes easier to believe all the bad stuff they say, and shame tells us they are right and tries to keep us small and silent, which is its purpose. As an adult, it’s the only way we’ve known how to treat ourselves: those neural pathways were mapped young and shame turned toxic long ago.

From there, the need to contort and sacrifice ourselves to fit the dysfunction and self-hatred is second nature. This is the codependent piece for individuals who have been scapegoated.

I remember when I was about six years old and I loved to write short stories, I told my mother that I wanted to grow up to become a writer. Her response was to laugh cruelly and say that I would never be able to do it, I wasn’t smart enough. She then brought it up, ridiculing me, in front of my abusive father and brother, who jumped on it and got a good laugh at my expense. I started to cry at the dinner table and they sent me to my room saying if I couldn’t control myself I wasn’t allowed to eat.

Then to further the cycle of abuse and dysfunction, this was brought up every so often over the years, resurrected to perpetuate my role of inconsequence and chronic disrespect in the family.

This may seem like a one-off situation, but for the child who is systematically scapegoated at every turn, this is their normalized experience.

So much of the time, we will repeat what we don’t resolve internally

In adult relationships, subconsciously we will draw to ourselves the people that are going to give us an opportunity to help us heal our family of origin issues. (This part really stinks, as we can come out of our dysfunctional childhood with the hope of better relationships, but it doesn’t always happen.) So much of the time, we will repeat what we don’t resolve internally: those feelings of always needing to fix it if someone is upset with our behavior (codependency characteristic) and right away feeling like there is something wrong with us, and we aren’t good enough (which is the toxic shame of course.)

To do this work, we learn how to hold these thoughts, feelings, and behaviors up to the light and see the fallacy of them.

Did I go on to write after being scapegoated and ridiculed for a childhood dream? Yes. Did it take some work to not believe their opinions of me?

Yes.

Because at the end of the day, what I know to be true is when someone is treating another human being that way, it’s actually about their shame. It doesn’t feel good, but being able to dissolve those broken beliefs about ourselves and melt that conditioning into “that’s their stuff,” is incredibly healing. Learning how to believe in ourselves is rife with self-compassion, healthy shame, and working towards interdependent relationships.

We don’t do this work to change other people: we do this work to remove our need for them to change.

The codependency characteristics are adaptive ways for us to survive the trauma of abuse and dysfunction. We couldn’t have done it any differently.

I hope you are taking good care of all your parts today, especially those with toxic shame. You deserve healing and nurturing. You are enough.

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.

Jennifer Kindera

As a Certified Trauma Recovery Coach Supervisor and Certified Healing Shame Practitioner, my focus at Jennifer Kindera Coaching is to help clients navigate their potential traumas which may be holding them back from living life to their fullest capacity. Trauma recovery coaching and healing shame takes time, but with an honest, inclusive, and compassionate space for the unfolding of your life journey, you can work to unravel the binds of trauma and shame to promote your capacity for healing and growth.

www.jenniferkindera.com

I never realized how harmful my upbringing was until I was nineteen years old and diagnosed with C-PTSD. One month later, I was admitted to a psych ward for five days. Aside from being quarantined in an environment haunted by emotional abuse, my true detriment was the insults and tirades that were hurled towards me both through childhood and beyond.

However, it was attempting EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) therapy at twenty years old that uncovered the degradation that I faced on a near-hourly basis. In high school, my mother’s stuffed animals were the crux of my social life. They were my morning, noon, and night. They were why I had my phone taken away in class, not Instagram. She was my daily throat pain from continually straining my throat to give the stuffed animals high-pitched voices to make her laugh. Never had I seen her smile so brightly or laugh so boastfully as when I was a living doll. At this point, I had gotten accustomed to grieving any semblance of normalcy from my childhood, but never like this.

Like many other children, I was brought up with Webkinz, Disney, and other forms of anthropomorphic media and engagement. However, the older I became, the less human I became. To my mother, I was hardly addressed as Elizabeth. Aside from being her “Swee” (short for “sweetie”) often addressed by her with a pig emoji, I was Sally the lamb, George the turtle, Norman the bear, and tens of others. She herself had a similar identity and nickname to us. This form of communication is, in her words, how she shows her love towards me and how we “keep the peace,” conditioning me to live in a near-constant state of age regression. These plushes lived in the car cup holders, couches, and even on our dinner table. After spending many hours into many nights yelling at me, she’d lay in my bed and coddle me with the likes of Meera the elephant and Petie the penguin the next morning. The whiplash of being either babied or insulted was truly groundbreaking. My identity was dictated by her mood.

Dwelling on this maltreatment answered so many questions. No wonder my psyche feels so fragmented. Never in my life had I ever considered my own happiness. My routine inner monologue was, “Mom works so hard. She has so many meetings. She’s always stuck in traffic.” I automatically committed every waking hour to make her laugh and smile, not even considering that it meant casting my life aside. It is beyond painful to realize that my existence was a state of many forms of degradation. To her, my ideal state of being had to be as her stuffed animals, possessions that are lower than subhuman, in order for the household to function properly. The lack of dignity I felt in the aftermath was so devastating that I nearly attempted suicide.

How could I find any semblance of self when I’m buried underneath the broken pieces of who I was raised to be? Fortunately, I have good friends and close extended family. I began contacting them more frequently, and they provided more support than I ever could have imagined. Having my own living space and being able to navigate my own relationships with stuffed animals became a liberating experience. It shouldn’t have been liberating, but I’m glad it was. A silver lining of having a childhood of constant humiliation is that it quite literally sets the bar very low. Even strangers can fulfill the expectations that weren’t met at home: automatic respect, equal emotional ground, and being seen as a human being named Elizabeth. I will not tolerate being treated as anything less ever again.

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 do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Elizabeth Marando

Finding purpose in visual and emotional sensitivity and intensity through art and writing.

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 do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Susan Morris

Susan Frances Morris is the author of The Sensitive One, a memoir dealing with childhood trauma, abuse, health, and healing. She holds a bachelor’s degree in nursing and was a practicing nurse from 1989 to 2011, primarily in Women’s Health. She was raised in Springfield, Massachusetts, the second oldest of seven siblings with two sets of twins.  http://susanfrancesmorris.com

susanfrancesmorris.com

Somebody once told me “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade”. Those people only experience hard times every so often. Maybe a small setback in life, a bump in the road to that promotion you worked so hard for. “Never mind, you will get it next time” they tell you. It could be a kid breaking his leg, right before an important hockey tournament. Both of these are “tough” to handle at the time but you know that things will get better. Your mind is prepared for things to get back to normal again and you are usually surrounded by loving family and friends. You have support.

When suffering from chronic child abuse, the pain is constant. It doesn’t go anywhere and you as a child cannot leave because it is happening to you in your home. The hurt and the pain is happening behind closed doors and it’s like being in prison without visitors or any chance of parole. You are completely alone and you have no support and no love. Most often it gets worse, and you may be like I was, locked up in a dark room and restrained. I was completely stuck and without being able to see, I was terrified of what was coming next. In those moments I let my mind run away into a happier place. This is called dissociation where you separate your mind from reality into a different place. It is something a lot of abused kids do because the reality is just too frightening and painful. Sometimes I used to hum and sing quietly to myself letting the vibration in my throat soothe me.

If the abuse is physical and/or sexual in nature, you often have injuries and bruises in places where other kids don’t get “hurt”. You know this because no one talks about it. If the abuser is a parent, they will not take you to the ER for an STD. That would implicate them, so you are left to suffer. I had several STD’s and it was so bad that I couldn’t go to the bathroom. In the end, it was one of my teachers who saw my distress and got my “mom” to reluctantly take me to the hospital. This happened more than once and each time the doctors treated me and sent me back home for more abuse.

I was an active and expressive kid. Most often I was in a “fawn” state which means I was trying to be invisible and do what I had been told. I was hiding from my abusers and staying out of my parent’s way. I practiced not making any noise at all while hiding under my bed or at the back of my closet. If my so-called father was working and “mom” was busy, I would play in my room. I liked to draw, play with my Legos, teddies, and my cars. I also liked to make up stories about what I had seen and been through. At the time they were just stories that I played and acted out in my room. I didn’t know what I was doing.

Once I got a bit older, I could go outside on my own. It was like being set free!  I grew up on the edge of a big city and I was lucky enough to live in a neighborhood with lots of kids. To begin with, I was scared of everyone and I used to sit and watch the other kids play in the playground or on the street. I often ran off to be alone and make my own games whilst coming back to secretly watch the other kids play. I enjoyed making superhero suits and my imagination was my escape. I would be outside for hours, only coming in for something to eat when I was hungry. That was the way back in the ’80s. Kids would be outside all the time without their parents.

The other kids started taking an interest in me. They came up to me and asked me questions and if I wanted to play. I didn’t know “how” so I just stood and watched them. I had a red trike that I loved riding on the road outside our apartment. I think I must have been about 4 years old. A few of the other kids asked me to race them and after a few races, I started winning. I was just too fast and it felt great! Once I made a few friends, more kids came to our road and asked to race the “new kid”.

As I grew older, I got braver and went further away from our apartment into the small wood in the park. My parents separated and lived on opposite sides of the city. I now had two new places to make friends and play. When I was outside I made friends easily now that I knew how to do it. My friends became my escape. I could be a kid again and forget about my life for a while. I got to climb trees, play sports, and explore the parks and even the forests nearby. My parents had no clue where I was, so long as I was back by a set time. I got to play at my friend’s apartments and yards but I could never ask any of them to come into my apartment. This meant that I had to make excuses for my parents. I always made up that they were working or asleep. I had no idea if that was true and I was not going to find out.

There were times when I tried to run away but I soon learned not to as the abuse got much worse. After all, I had nowhere to go. I was just a scared kid. I would be in pain for days afterward from the punishments. I was so hurt once from the handcuffs biting my wrists that I had trouble holding my arms up to hold my pencil at school.

School was my refuge. It was somewhere I could go and relax during the day, knowing that I would not get hurt. I got a homecooked meal each day and not feeling hungry felt so nice. The routine of each day was my comfort. I knew what was going to happen next unlike at home where I was scared to death. I also made more new friends and it opened my world up a bit more. My parents were happy to let me go to sports and games clubs after school and I got to try new things which made my body stronger. It made me want to learn more new things.

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As an adult, I cut my family off and left. I started my life the way I wanted to live. I worked hard during the day and put myself through night school. As I explored, tested, and discovered new things, I started journaling. It got me through the first few years. I was good at soccer and street hockey and I joined some youth club teams when I had some free time. I started making more friends and I could lean on them for support when times got tough. My friends could see that I needed help in certain areas which I had never known, like opening my first bank account. I had no idea what a bank account was. Until I started earning my own wages, I had no need for a bank account. Being a grown-up is different from being a child. I learned that my friends cared about me and that I could ask for help if I needed it. This was all new to me. I had never asked for help before. There were so many pieces of paperwork to fill in to get a job and get medical insurance. I never knew either of those existed. With my friends there to support me, I moved from strength to strength. I realised that now that I had my own money, I could buy myself new clothes and things that I wanted.

I always sought nature and the outdoors when I was a kid. In my adult life, the outdoors made a big part of my life too. I made time to go out to the park and sit and read and write. I went hiking in the mountains with friends and I loved running. I enrolled in lots of different classes, and I spent most of my evenings out rather than home alone. It was a way to connect with my friends away from work and my social network grew, as did my confidence!

Do you have someone you can lean on when you are feeling down? Someone you can share a coffee with on a cold rainy day and talk to? Who is your person? Be kind to yourself because you deserve it. You have come this far and you can make it all the way. I could do it and so can you!

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 do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Elizabeth Woods

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

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

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

www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com/

Congratulations! You’ve decided that you’re through being abused by a toxic parent, partner, or friend and are ready to go No Contact. Good for you! You’re taking a HUGE, healthy step!

Your first urge? To explain why. You want to deliver that one last message that details every wrong. How you’re at the end of your rope. How you’ve told them over and over to stop their toxic behavior. How nothing has changed so you need to make the change. Maybe you think they’ll stop harassing you if they know you won’t respond. Maybe part of you hopes that raising the stakes will prompt an apology or better yet, changed behavior. Maybe you just “need them to know.”

Beware. YOU’RE BODY’S TRICKING YOU!

TRAUMA BOND is chemical. An addiction to the adrenaline rush occurs when your fight-or-flight survival instinct is engaged. If the abuser is also your caretaker, a hormone develops that confuses abuse for love.

As with any addiction, your body goes through withdrawal. It tries to convince you to do unhealthy things, like sending a letter.

TIP: Just like a smoker chews gum to quit, have a list of healthy alternative activities you enjoy for when symptoms emerge, such as journaling, gaming, walking, crafting, reading, yoga, or simply breathing deeply.

But, How Will They Know I’ve Gone No Contact if I Don’t Tell Them?

The same way they know everything else. By your actions. Manipulative people memorize what you SAY to weaponize against you later. They watch what you DO to adjust their control tactics.

By having a “final” conversation or sending them a letter with all of your wounds exposed, you’re doing three things — no, one of them isn’t giving the silent treatment. That punishes. No Contact protects:

1. Confirming that they are important and influential in your life. That they have power over you
2. Providing your bully instructions on how to further bully you
3. Warning them to assemble their army of enablers and flying monkeys. Relatives, friends, and co-workers who’ve been groomed to pity your abuser try to persuade you to return with phrases like “But he’s your…” “I’ve never seen her be…” “They love you so much.” “You’re breaking their heart.”

So, What Do I Do?

Go ahead, write a letter. JUST DON’T SEND IT TO YOUR ABUSER. That will only prolong the abuse as you worry and wonder if they’ve received it. Instead, write as much detail as you desire, and get everything out. Draw pictures, and do multiple drafts. Write whatever you need to write.

Then, take a break from it. A day, a week. Participate in healthy activities. You may even choose to stick your letter in an envelope and mail it to yourself.

After your break, re-read your letter and write a response that contains the apologies you deserve. Address each detail. This is hard and SO worth it. If you’re struggling, try writing how you think they’ll respond, then write the opposite. For example:

Dear Jamie,

I received your “letter”. I read your letter thoroughly. How dare you speak to me that way. I’m so glad that you felt comfortable telling me the things I’ve done that have hurt you. You know that I’ve had a hard life. I have no excuses for my behavior. You’re always accusing me of ruining your life, but have you ever stopped to think how you ruin mine? I am selfish and I purposely hurt you to control you. Accusing me of hijacking your wedding is absurd. I know now that your wedding wasn’t about me. I was jealous of the attention you got and behaved terribly.

If you want to behave selfishly and turn your back on me, so be it. I understand why you don’t want me in your life. I know that I treat you terribly. You’re only punishing your children. You’re protecting your children from my abusive behavior. I would never do this to you. I constantly reject you and turn my back on you. When you come to your senses, you know where to find me. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly that you need to remove me from your life. That’s not what a parent is supposed to do. I will never stop loving you I will never stop manipulating you. You are wise to get away.

Goodbye forever, Love,

Dad Your Abuser

These letters were never for them, they’re for you. You’ve given them enough of your time.

Then What?

Congratulate yourself and Ask for help. Find a trauma-informed therapist, support group, or trusted friend/relative to talk to. You can use both letters as a blueprint of issues to address. The sooner you remove the toxic people from your life, the sooner you can start healing and surrounding yourself with people who treat you with love and respect. You’re making difficult, important, healthy choices and you’re doing great!

Need more tips for going No Contact with a Toxic Parent? Check out the links below!

Going “No Contact” With Toxic Parents| Choose Your Own Adventure

Tips for Going “No Contact” with a Toxic Parent

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 do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Jamie Donmoyer

Creative storyteller and recovering scapegoat of a narcissistic parent, working through Complex PTSD one post at a time