Loving an emotionally healthy partner

Here is Part 1 of this series.

If the adult child finds an emotionally healthy partner, they might feel uncomfortable because this person can challenge everything they learned about love. For the adult child, love was historically mixed with criticism, guilt, disappointment, and control while unconditional love and kindness can make the adult child suspicious and distrusting.

The adult child might wonder, “what does this person really want?”; “why are they so nice to me?”; “why do they love me like this?”; “when will the criticism come?” The absence of criticism can feel unfamiliar and unfamiliar doesn’t always feel safe.

The emotionally healthy partner may express appreciation, affection, gratitude and admiration. The adult child might hear the words, but struggle to internalize them because they might think to themselves, “if they really knew me, they wouldn’t feel like this.” Years of criticism can create a deeply rooted belief that love must be earned. However, the adult child’s difficulties with emotional regulation, if not recognized and handled through interventions, risks negative effects to their romantic relationships (Riggs, Cusimano & Benson, 2011).

Researchers have found links between childhood emotional maltreatment and reported difficulties in communication, relationship satisfaction, intimacy, empathy, hostility, defensiveness, and overall relationship quality (Vaillancourt-Morel et al., 2024).

Specifically, some research has discovered that men who grew up with parents who were chronically critical or did not provide a healthy emotional environment are found to provide their partners with less support, engagement, and positive communication skills and have a greater observation of negative traits like high levels of conflict (Malek & Papp, 2015).

The risks of refusing to recognize the unhealthy patterns

If the healthy partner is trying to hold up a mirror to their emotionally injured partner, that person will have to answer to their partner’s insistence that they’ve been unfairly treated, how much they’ve sacrificed, how very little recognition they received, and how long they’ve tolerated this treatment. Sometimes these adult children get angry at the messenger showing them the truth.

If you happen to be one of these people, you are potentially sacrificing your relationship to hold on to your old coping strategies with your parents. That is very direct, I know, but it is true. While you’re feeling tremendous pressure to remain loyal to your parents and the criticism dynamic, you’re putting your partner in the position of being second and ignoring the pain they feel on your behalf, or pain they get if they are also in the line of criticism fire.

If you are the partner in this situation, understand that your partner might feel a great sense of shame beneath the defensiveness, irritation, and anger. They grew up in a family where emotions were not processed in a healthy way, so they didn’t learn how to handle anger, grief, disappointment, and shame in healthy ways. Instead of saying to you, “I’m angry with my parents,” they say, “why are you making such a big deal out of this?” Understand that your partner’s frustration might be understandable, but that doesn’t make it something you must inherently accept.

Because of the environment in which the adult child grew up, healthy partners may see the unhealthy relationship patterns when they participate in family events. That healthy partner will notice how the adult child is treated by seeing and likely mentioning the criticism, double standards, manipulation, and lack of appreciation. A healthy partner will want the adult child to be treated differently.

The adult child, when confronted with this information, will feel conflicted because part of them will agree with what the partner sees, but part of them feels strongly compelled to protect their parents. This can create tension because the partner sees and hears harm while the adult child feels the need to remain loyal to their family and defensive of those unhealthy family dynamics.

Healthy and unhealthy conflict

The healthy partner might model healthy arguments and quick attempts to repair after a fight. In unhealthy households, disagreements don’t get discussed. Feelings run high and hot, but efforts to repair are not done. The adult child does not learn how to disagree in a healthy way. The adult child has not had modeling of emotional maturity, so they might struggle with the skills needed for healthy discussions, especially around disagreements or hurt feelings.

What also tends to happen in this dynamic is the overly criticized, unappreciated adult child takes their frustrations out on their partner. The partner might think, “your parents are the ones criticizing you all the time, but why do you seem angry with me?” From the adult child’s perspective, a lot is happening under the surface. The real reason is often this: his parents feel unsafe to confront.

For someone who grew up with chronic criticism, challenging the parent might feel emotionally dangerous, even in adulthood. Their nervous system learned not to argue, not to upset them, not to challenge them, and keep the peace. Unfortunately, those hurt feelings will often get redirected towards their partners. This is not because the partner deserves it, but because they’re the person least likely to abandon them (Finzi-Dottan & Abadi, 2024).

Healthy partners understand that conflict is just a part of being in a relationship. Relationships require work and sometimes compromise. Adult children of unhealthy family dynamics may not have the skills they need to participate in healthy conflict resolution and tend to be afraid of rejection and fear they won’t ever get true acceptance (Finzi-Dottan & Abadi, 2024). This is not a put-down for these people. It’s reality. Growing up in emotionally immature environments and then having potential relationships with emotionally immature people does not equip these people with the skills needed for healthy discussions and arguments.

In healthy relationships, disagreements can happen without the relationship being threatened. Many people who grew up in the unhealthy dynamics tend to result in insecure attachments to romantic partners (Riggs & Kaminski, 2010). A healthy partner should be able to have constructive conversations that might be difficult, without fearing the other person will shut down and threaten them to leave. Someone raised by highly critical parents may unconsciously expect rejection, withdrawal, punishment or humiliation and because of that, a simple disagreement can trigger intense anxiety because their nervous system learned long ago that conflict equals danger.

A thinking myth might be at play here and that is the healthy partner believes that the person they’re dealing with is their present-day partner. However, if this partner is in the family environment that is filled with emotional dysregulation and criticism, or in moments of high stress, they may actually be encountering old survival strategies that were formed decades before. The partner that becomes defensive, shuts down, redirects anger, blames the healthy partner, or chases parental approval is not consciously choosing the childhood patters, but reverting to those strategies that once helped them survive.

Understanding this does not excuse the behavior and, if the adult child wants to improve their relationships, they need to first recognize what they’re doing, forgive themselves for that, and learn how to behave and respond differently to preserve or create a healthy partnership.

You do not have to keep engaging in these disrespectful interactions

If you are the criticized adult partner, it is your responsibility to recognize it and stop it, and if you cannot stop it, then you learn how to function in that dynamic by learning new ways of responding to parental criticism without internalizing it and processing difficult emotions. The technical word for this is learning emotional regulation and if you grew up in the chronic criticism, then you grew up in an emotionally dysregulated environment (Riggs, 2010).

Learning HOW to regulate emotions might require reading about it and seeking therapy. I know, I know… so many people say therapy is the answer, but this is something serious and severe that needs someone outside of you to help navigate and learn coping skills. Therapy does not mean you are broken. It does not mean you are weak. It does not mean your relationship with your partner is breaking apart. It means you’re taking ownership of your situation and trying to improve it for you, your partner, your current or future children, and, what’s even better, every single generation after them. Your partner will be very grateful and likely even help you in that process with a generous and loving heart.

References

Finzi-Dottan, R., & Abadi, H. (2024). From Emotional Abuse to a Fear of Intimacy: A Preliminary Study of the Mediating Role of Attachment Styles and Rejection Sensitivity. International journal of environmental research and public health, 21(12), 1679. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph21121679

Maleck S., Papp L. M. (2015). Childhood risky family environments and romantic relationship functioning among young adult dating couples. Journal of Family Issues, 36(5), 567–588. https://doi.org/10.1177/0192513×13491749

Riggs, S. A. (2010). Childhood Emotional Abuse and the Attachment System Across the Life Cycle: What Theory and Research Tell Us. Journal of Aggression, Maltreatment & Trauma, 19(1), 5–51. https://doi.org/10.1080/10926770903475968

Riggs, S. A., Cusimano, A. M., & Benson, K. M. (2011). Childhood emotional abuse and attachment processes in the dyadic adjustment of dating couples. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 58(1), 126–138. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0021319

Riggs, S. A., & Kaminski, P. (2010). Childhood Emotional Abuse, Adult Attachment, and Depression as Predictors of Relational Adjustment and Psychological Aggression. Journal of Aggression, Maltreatment & Trauma, 19(1), 75–104. https://doi.org/10.1080/10926770903475976

Vaillancourt-Morel, M.-P., Godbout, N., Bigras, N., Sabourin, S., & Bergeron, S. (2024). Partner effects of childhood maltreatment: A systematic review and meta-analysis. Trauma, Violence, & Abuse, 25(2), 1323–1343. https://doi.org/10.1177/15248380231173427

Photo Credit: Unsplash

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

The invisible wound

When people think about childhood trauma, they might imagine bruises from physical abuse, scars on skin that remain red and thick, stories of children left alone to fend for themselves without food or comfort, or various forms of sexual assault.

Many children grow up in homes where their basic needs are met, and they aren’t beaten or sexually assaulted, but they grow up with chronic belittling, nit-picking, and criticism. For those parents, nothing is ever quite good enough, and the child is reminded of it regularly. When the young one tries to achieve or perform to please the parent, it’s followed by a parental judgment or correction. The parent reminds the child of what they missed, lack, or didn’t do right.

As a child, I learned at a very young age that I was not measuring up to my mother’s expectations. When I was younger, it started out with my physical appearance. My mother was born a small person, with small bone structure, which kept her petite all her life. While I was short, I had a very different structure. It seemed to me like my creator was confused, thinking I needed to be built like a linebacker as a 5-foot 4-inch female.

That difference displeased my mother, and I could not measure up to her physical expectations of me. For her, grades and academic performance were irrelevant compared to how I looked or behaved, because what other people thought meant more than my own achievements outside of having a “perfect” body.

As I aged, I was reminded even more regularly that my body just did not measure up, and her expectations (outside of academics) were that I took care of all household chores. Even when I was working two jobs and going to school, while earning good grades, if the house wasn’t spic and span, I was punished. My brother had no expectations laid upon him. I consistently disappointed my mother, and nothing I could do could earn her praise, except the time that I lost 30 pounds. Her praise then was endless, albeit temporary, as the weight came back.

Over time, the child learns a valuable but painful lesson: “I am only as valuable as my performance,” or “I am only valuable if I meet the expectations my parents have of me.”  For many adults living with complex trauma, the wound isn’t what the parent did to them; it was what the parent repeatedly said.

What does an overly critical parent look like?

A healthy parent teaches their children. They use constructive criticism and redirection if the child needs it, and do so with the goal of helping and nurturing the child’s growth. On the contrary, overly critical parents do not teach; they evaluate. They judge.

Common patterns look like: constant fault-finding, unrealistically high expectations, rare or non-existent praise or acknowledgment, comparing a child to their siblings, dismissing emotions or shutting down the child’s emotions, labeling their children (lazy, dramatic, difficult, ungrateful), and focusing on mistakes and overlooking successes and efforts to please the parent. The message is explicit or implied: “You could have done better.”

Why chronic criticism is so harmful

Children develop their sense of self through their relationship with their caregivers. When their caregivers repeatedly communicate disappointment, rejection, or conditional acceptance, children often internalize those messages as truths about themselves.

Research suggests that persistent parental criticism can contribute to negative self-image, depression, anxiety, and difficulty with emotional regulation (Spinazzola et al., 2014). Harsh and rejecting parental behaviors are also linked to increased psychological distress and poorer mental health outcomes (Cruz, et al., 2022). Children aren’t simply hearing criticism–they are building their identities around it.

The adult child’s hidden beliefs

Many adults raised by highly critical parents continue carrying harmful, unconscious beliefs like: I must earn love; my worth depends on what I do or accomplish; mistakes are dangerous; other people’s needs matter more than mine; I am responsible for maintaining my family’s peace; if I just try harder, I will finally be enough.

When criticism becomes trauma

Trauma is shaped by what happened to someone repeatedly. Developmental trauma research suggests that chronic interpersonal stressors in caregiving relationships can alter the way people handle their emotions, their self-concept, attachment patterns, and social functioning. Psychological maltreatment, which is what chronic criticism is, has been associated with depression, anxiety, shame, dissociation and relationship difficulties (Lippard & Nemeroff, 2020).

Chronic parental criticism, emotional abuse, and harsh parenting are also associated with increased risk for emotional distress, adverse childhood experiences, and substance use problems. For some people who grow up in this environment, alcohol or drugs become a way to cope with the pain of feeling perpetually inadequate, rejected, or unseen (Felitti et al., 1998).

Sometimes trauma looks less like a single event and more like thousands of moments that communicate to the child, “who you are is not enough.”

Why adult children keep trying to earn approval and what happens later

One of the most painful realities for children who grow up with chronic criticism is that the pursuit of parental approval carries long into adulthood. These children grow up to be high achievers, caregivers, helpers, people-pleasers, and perfectionists. They hope that enough success, sacrifice, and service will finally produce the validation they long for, yet many discover that the goalposts continue to move.

Adults who are raised by chronically critical parents might find themselves in relationships with people who do the same thing to them, because it feels like home. It’s familiar. They go from one unhealthy environment into another and maintaining a healthy relationship is difficult when they choose unhealthy partners (Vaillancourt-Morel et al., 2024).

The adult child might struggle with perfectionism, fear of failure, self-doubt, difficulty setting boundaries (especially with the parents), anxiety, depression, sensitivity to criticism (overreacting to it), and relationship problems (Kuo et al., 2011).

They may keep trying to prove their worth                     

One of the most common patterns is over-functioning that looks like becoming: the helper, the fixer, the provider, and/or the caretaker. This happens not because their partner demands it, but because that’s what the adult child learned:  contribution is how they secure connection. However, their healthy partner might say, “you do not have to earn your place here,” but the adult child doesn’t know how not to do that.

The adult child might have difficulty needing anything from their partner because receiving feels vulnerable. If their healthy partner offers comfort, support, or help, they might feel guilty, indebted, weak, or exposed. The adult child might react strongly, in a negative way, becoming defensive or even angry because they learned early that needing someone felt dangerous.

References

Cruz, D., Lichten, M., Berg, K., & George, P. (2022). Developmental trauma: Conceptual framework, associated risks and comorbidities, and evaluation and treatment. Frontiers in Psychiatry, 13, Article 800687. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyt.2022.800687

Felitti, Vincent J., Anda, Robert F., Nordenberg, D., Williamson, D. F., Spitz, A. M., Edwards, V., Koss, M. P., & Marks, J. S. (1998). Relationship of childhood abuse and household dysfunction to many of the leading causes of death in adults: The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study. American Journal of Preventive Medicine, 14(4), 245–258. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0749-3797(98)00017-8

Kuo, J. R., Goldin, P. R., Werner, K., Heimberg, R. G., & Gross, J. J. (2011). Childhood trauma and current psychological functioning in adults with social anxiety disorder. Journal of anxiety disorders, 25(4), 467–473. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.janxdis.2010.11.011

Lippard, E. T. C., & Nemeroff, C. B. (2020). The Devastating Clinical Consequences of Child Abuse and Neglect: Increased Disease Vulnerability and Poor Treatment Response in Mood Disorders. The American journal of psychiatry, 177(1), 20–36. https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.ajp.2019.19010020

Vaillancourt-Morel, M.-P., Godbout, N., Bigras, N., Sabourin, S., & Bergeron, S. (2024). Partner effects of childhood maltreatment: A systematic review and meta-analysis. Trauma, Violence, & Abuse, 25(2), 1323–1343. https://doi.org/10.1177/15248380231173427

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

He too knew the darkness, intimately; instinctively, we spoke one another’s language, like siblings do. Yet there was also a darkness in his disparagement of the objectively good place that, against the odds of the ACE score, had become my reality, a darkness that would expand and soon permeate every aspect of our togetherness. 

In the aftermath of this relationship, I learned more about BPD and its overlaps with CPTSD. I concluded that while I had traits of the former, my symptoms overall added up to the latter.

Since cutting off contact with my family of origin a decade ago, my life had grown and healed in ways I never dared hope for, which is indicative of the context-dependent activation of triggers that is characteristic of CPTSD but not BPD (Martin 2026). Nonetheless, the point raised by my ex-partner – who would you be had it not been for your horrendous childhood – touched a nerve and remains difficult to explore. Partly, this is due to the fact that since day one of my professional life, I had aimed to perform and succeed ‘as if’ – as if everything was, and had always been, hunky-dory. The achievements that ensued from that mindset, and from working as if my life depended on it (which, on reflection, it did, as I was unable to maintain a relationship, and relying on my family of origin was not an option), meant that over the years, I would increasingly find myself in rarefied settings, rubbing shoulders with the super-rich. 

At home with the homeless

I had arrived, it would seem, I had made it, at least professionally. But there is a paradox to flourishing as a survivor of childhood abuse. Mingling with highly accomplished and confident people can seem like a betrayal to an inner child who is certain that this is not where we belong. On a social continuum that extends from homeless junkies via those crippled by personality disorders and suffering from CPTSD to those whose emotional and financial affairs are in marvelous shape, is our tribe not that of Gabor Maté’s hungry ghosts?

Pitiful, revolting, filthy, broken addicts whose stench and existential hopelessness are but a stomach-churning testament to the severity of the crimes committed against their younger selves, a deafening silent scream the world cannot ignore, however hard it tries. No, their wordless reproach goes, I am not okay, and neither were the things that happened when I was a child, nor is the fact that nobody cared to ask questions, let alone intervene. Now look away already, you know you want to.

According to my inner child, it is with these people, like with my BPD ex, with whom I will always share an instinctive, kin-like belonging. In contrast, interacting with emotionally healthy, high-functioning, and immaculately groomed folks while nibbling unpronounceable foods at swanky dos involves painstakingly learning a whole new language.

This, foreign to me, idiom is the shibboleth to social and emotional mobility of dizzying proportions, a leap into the world of generations of professional triumph and familial stability. My blending into these circles is the ultimate ‘as if’, an overcoming of childhood adversity so enormous that my inner child feels invisible, more so as the language barrier works both ways: these graceful sophisticates are protected from many of life’s trials through not just their wealth but by many-layered, strong personal bonds and professional networks, and the permanent severing of family ties is not just a delicate and ugly taboo subject but indeed, beyond comprehension and unfathomable.

Connectedness is everything, and so is family. This is a healthy sphere, seemingly with no concept, let alone first-hand knowledge, of the darkness. Of course, my fitting in here is only skin-deep, and my healing only partial. My private life remains non-existent, a vacuum so obvious that it too is a silent scream, telling the untellable story, making sure the inner child does not go ignored. 

The best revenge

And then I kept investing in my recovery. I am incredibly grateful to be alive at a time when I could stumble across the transformative works of Bessel van der Kolk and Richard Schwartz, among others. Eventually, my private life too began to heal, but only after I made a deal with my inner child, telling her that while my life will more and more look ‘as if’, the past will never be denied or forgotten. And that the best revenge is a life well lived.

Alice Segell is a pseudonym. The author is a wife, researcher, writer and survivor.

References:

Martin, Mozelle (2026), ‘When Dysregulation is not what First Appears: Differentiating BPD, CPTSD with Attachment Dysregulation, Trauma-Bonded Anxious Attachment, Chronic Pain Identity, and Long-Term Instability’, https://cptsdfoundation.org/2026/03/24/when-dysregulation-is-not-what-first-appears-differentiating-bpd-cptsd-with-attachment-dysregulation-trauma-bonded-anxious-attachment-chronic-pain-identity-and-long-term-instability/.

Maté, Gabor (2009), In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, Close Encounters with Addiction, Random House Canada.

Schwartz, Richard C. (2023), Introduction to Internal Family Systems: A Revolutionary Therapy for Wholeness & Healing, Vermilion.

van der Kolk, Bessel (2014), The Body Keeps the Score, Brain, Mind and Body in the Healing of Trauma, Penguin.

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

It’s the moment they realize:

“I thought I had moved on…so why does my body still feel this way?”

Why does anxiety still show up when life looks okay on the outside?

Why does connection still feel uncertain, even in safer relationships?

Why does the past still feel present?

For a long time, I thought healing meant getting to a place where the past no longer affected me. Where I could close the door on what happened and finally be “done.”

But what I’ve learned – both personally and through my work – is that trauma doesn’t resolve just because we understand it or because life improves on the surface.

Especially when trauma has been ongoing or relational, the nervous system adapts in deep ways. Even when the danger is gone, the patterns of protection can remain.

I know this place well.

There have been seasons where everything in my life looked “fine” on paper, but internally I was still carrying tension, hypervigilance, and a sense of bracing for something to go wrong. Not because I was broken, but because my system had learned that was the safest way to exist.

What I’ve come to understand is this:

Healing is about learning how to move with what has happened.

To stop fighting the parts of us that still carry impact.

To stop judging the responses that once protected us.

And to begin building enough internal safety that those patterns don’t have to run everything anymore.

Healing is not erasing your past.

It’s learning how to be in relationship with it differently.

And from that place, something new becomes possible!

A Small Action You Can Take Today

Take one quiet moment today and notice your body, not your thoughts.

Ask yourself gently:

Where am I bracing right now?

What might this part of me be trying to protect me from?

You don’t have to fix anything.

Just notice.

Then place a hand somewhere on your body – chest, belly, arm – and offer a simple reminder:

“I’m here with you.”

That alone is a form of healing. Not dramatic. Not forced. Just present.

To the journey,

Rachel

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

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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

I can trace this belief all the way back to my childhood when I first began to believe that the rays pouring out from behind the clouds were the light of God (or Source or Universal Energy).  Must have been an idea I got from a painting or photograph.  Still, it’s an idea that has stuck in my mind for decades and stays with me even today as I watch the sunset outside my window and am, as always, filled with awe.

I can remember one day in particular from my childhood, a day when I was about six- years old, when my spirituality really began to take hold.  After escaping from some episode of domestic trauma that was going on inside my house, I ran outside into the front yard, looked up at the sky, and saw a jet way up at the top of all of that blue.  Instantly, I felt that if there could be something so incredible, something so very far away from me and all my family turmoil, I could hold on to that faraway place and keep a part of my soul safe there (early threads of dissociation, I suppose).  Ever since that day, I’ve felt that if I could just see a piece of the sky or the summit of some mountain off in the distance, or even a turkey vulture in flight, I could make it…that I could somehow be okay. 

Twenty-one years ago, however, right smack in the middle of an intense “psycho-spiritual crisis,” I was about as far from okay as I could possibly be.

It was during the summer of 2005 at the beginning of perimenopause (the eight or so years before the menstrual cycles cease) that, all of a sudden, all of my coping mechanisms began to collapse, both around me and within me.  As my mind and my body suddenly began releasing much of the terror, grief, and shame I’d been holding onto related to my abuse, I found myself plummeting into the most terrifying and yet liberating experience of my life—an experience I never could have survived without my spirituality.

All day and all night my hands and my body shook.  My pulse, usually around 65 beats per minute, began racing somewhere around 100, and my blood pressure, normally around 110/65, had begun churning out readings as high as 178/100.  I couldn’t eat.  I couldn’t sleep.  It took all the concentration I could muster to perform even the simplest of tasks, things like making my sons’ lunch and doing the laundry.  I was afraid to take a shower, afraid to be alone, and terrified that I would take my own life. 

Even with all of this chaos and fear swirling around inside me, I held fast to my spirituality and continued to pray—to God, yes, but also to the inner and outer healing guides (angels, if you will), who I could sense were trying to help me, adding a special prayer for the life I so feared I was losing.

It took some time and a brief stay in an acute care psychiatric hospital for me to come to accept the fact that I was not suffering from any sort fatal brain disease but that it was the aftereffects of my long repressed childhood abuse that was causing all of my midlife physical and emotional upheaval—abuse that I was only just beginning to remember.  And so, desperate to heal my mind and body, once I left the hospital, with the help of talk and hypnotherapy, massage, movement and group therapy, I began my long-awaited journey toward integration, healing, and wholeness.

As many of you who are healing from similar abuse-related traumas know, this journey has not been an easy one.  There are many moments, so many moments when returning memories and long hidden feelings of grief, shame, and fear still threaten to steal away my newly found feelings of safety and sanity. 

While I have many tools to help me through these moments now, I remain amazed by how often simply being able to admit to myself  and to my inner and outer healing guides that I am afraid has brought me comfort, reassurance, and the blessed ability to move forward with my day.  Growing up in an abusive family, I was not allowed to give voice to feelings of shame, grief, or fear and so I internalized these emotions, turning them over the years into episodes of anorexia, bulimia, self-inflicted violence, anxiety, panic, and tendencies toward dissociation. 

Today I can see that it is only by embracing and ultimately releasing these long-repressed emotions and energies that I have been able to heal my mind, body, and spirit, one memory at a time, one tear at a time.

I think many of our difficulties with spirituality arise from our long-held belief that it is something that exists outside of ourselves, something unreachable and angry that we need to fear, much like the perpetrators who wounded us as children.  Through my studies of hypnosis, dream work, and the subconscious mind, however, I have come to believe that our spirituality or “higher power” is something that exists deep within each one of us and that it exists simply as the abundance of memory, wisdom, and faith that each of us needs to reclaim our lives and heal.  It is there whether we are able to believe in it or not, and it is there whether we feel we are able to access its power or not.

So, if you’re feeling so inclined, why not take a moment or two to access this inner spiritual power.  Close your eyes or, if you prefer, just lower your gaze toward the floor.  Take a deep breath and turn your attention inward.  Notice what you’re feeling.  No need to judge or try to change these feelings, just notice them.  Take another deep breath and then say these words whether you believe them or not…even if, or rather especially if it makes you cry—

• “I am taking back my power!”
• Say it again.  Louder.
• “I am taking back my power!”
• Say it again, even louder.
• “I am taking back my power!”

Say these words again, and again.  Say them every day if you need to and every night.  Say them until you truly believe with all your heart and soul that you really do have the right and the ability to reclaim the power that was stolen from you—to reclaim your life—and heal.

Wishing all of us much hope and wholeness on our healing journeys.

Many blessings,

Lynda Wisdo, MA, CYT

Another version of this post was first published in Many Voices Press Newsletter; October 2008 edition

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

During all those years before I finally got the right diagnosis of PTSD and AuDHD, chronic failure was a painful part of my life, both privately and at work. I often lost my jobs and I struggled in relationships, all of this without knowing why.

Living in a society where everybody is always so fast and harsh judging you based on your professional career and performance, chronic failure without knowing why can break you. I spent years feeling ashamed of myself, until finally a doctor took the time to do the right tests. Hearing the words, ‘None of it was ever your fault,’ was more than a big relief for me.

This is my personal reflection and what I learned about ADHD, Trauma, and the Path to Recovery:

For those living with both ADHD and PTSD, understanding the connection between the two can be a powerful step toward healing. Here is a brief overview of how these experiences often overlap. While a majority of individuals with ADHD may eventually adapt to adversity, they remain at a higher risk for more severe outcomes following traumatic events.

Some of the Key Reasons for Increased Vulnerability:

• Higher Risk of PTSD: People with ADHD who experience a traumatic event are roughly four times more likely to develop Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) than their peers without ADHD.
• Intensified Symptoms: ADHD and trauma affect similar regions of the brain, such as the prefrontal cortex, which governs emotional regulation and impulse control. When both are present, they can multiply, rather than just add together, worsening symptoms like inattention, emotional dysregulation, and hypervigilance.
• Sensitive Nervous Systems: Emerging research indicates that the nervous systems of those with ADHD may be more sensitive, making them more likely to experience a stressful event as traumatic compared to non-ADHD individuals.
• Executive Functioning Gaps: Core ADHD traits, such as difficulty with self-regulation and problem-solving, can make it harder for individuals to use constructive coping skills after a crisis. 

🌿 There is often a symptom overlap:
Because trauma symptoms like restlessness and distraction often mimic ADHD, it can be difficult for clinicians to distinguish between the two. Traditional ADHD therapy is “top-down,” using the brain to control the body. Trauma therapy often works “bottom-up,” using the body to calm the brain. 

This is why meeting with doctors who specialize in both of these fields can truly support the path of recovery. From my own experience, I know that finding the right doctors demands perseverance. In our country, the waiting lists for appointments are very long these days. However, please remember that it is worth the wait; and if possible, ask your local medical center to guide you toward the right specialists.

🌿 Being diagnosed later in life: 
When a person carries ‘hidden’ trauma for decades while living with ADHD, they often spend those years in a state of chronic exhaustion. This is because their brain has been working overtime to manage two different ‘storms’ at once: the executive dysfunction of ADHD and the survival instincts of trauma.

Individuals navigating this hidden toll often wear a high-functioning mask that lets them appear successful and capable in the workplace, meeting every expectation with quiet strength. Yet the moment they step into the safety of home, that energy simply vanishes, leaving them to collapse in exhaustion.

Because the deeper trauma remained unseen and unspoken for so long, they turned the blame inward, whispering to themselves that they were lazy, stupid, or simply not trying hard enough; in truth, their tender hearts were carrying an immense, invisible weight no one else could see.

That self-blame slowly deepened into a profound shame, quietly inviting chronic anxiety, depression, and the aching embrace of burnout. If this pattern echoes in your own life, please hold this truth close: you were never lazy, never broken, and never failing. You were surviving something extraordinarily heavy with every ounce of courage you had, and your heart has always deserved gentle, loving compassion, especially from yourself.

Understanding these connections is the first step toward reclaiming your well-being. Working alongside a certified medical doctor specializing in trauma therapy is an important part of the healing journey.

I see you. You have carried so much for so long; it’s okay to let the storms settle and finally step into the peace you deserve. Healing begins the moment you realize your survival was a quiet strength, and peace is finally within your reach. May you now allow yourself to breathe in the stillness of this new beginning, where your only task is to be kind to your own heart.

You don’t have to have all the answers right now; just focus on being a little more gentle with yourself today, and trust that you have the resilience to take this next part of your journey one step at a time.

Fill your days with the small things that bring your heart genuine joy, whether that is finding a creative hobby, spending time in the quiet of nature, or meeting with like-minded souls who truly understand you. New and more loving habits can open unexpected doors, helping you create the meaningful life you have always deserved.

It is in these simple, everyday moments of kindness to yourself that your world begins to feel whole again. By choosing what nourishes your heart, you are filling your daily life with more love right now.

And if you ever need someone to talk to, I am here for you.

With Love and Light,
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

They are not always the loudest child in the room. They are not always the child getting into trouble, asking for attention, or making their needs impossible to ignore. Often, they are the child who figures things out. The child who watches the room before entering it. The child who notices the shift in a parent’s voice, the tension at the dinner table, the bill left unopened, the sibling who needs help, the adult who is close to unraveling. They become useful early. 

They learn which emotions are safe to show and which ones make things worse. They learn when to stay quiet, when to intervene, when to comfort, when to disappear, and when to perform being fine. They become fluent in the needs of others long before they are given language for their own. And because they are capable, people stop worrying. Nobody worries about the responsible one. 

I was the responsible one. There was never a question when it was time to deliver a report card.

Test days were stress-free for my family, though I was filled with anxiety. The anxiety wasn’t related to the material; it was related to reactions from my family if I were to somehow obtain anything less than a perfect score. On the field, the court, the diamond or in the pool I was the athlete that was the leader. Game day nerves were never an issue, going home nerves were. Sports were my escape from the physical and emotional tension in my home. A standout scholar and athlete, I was exactly what my biological family wanted in their eldest child. 

As I moved forward in life, this became, quite naturally, my reason for living, my role, and my job. Afterall, as early as the age of 5 I was the problem solver, the little adult. The hypervigilance and ability to see detail beyond what my peers could see always served me well as a child and continued into adulthood. There is something about a young life that has learned awareness and attention to detail before they can even speak that causes them to be counted among the best of recruits as adults.

There is a level of maturity, a leadership quality, that doesn’t exist with people of their own age and background. Rarely does anyone stop to ask what it costs a child to become that composed. It is these and other associated qualities that employers look for in candidates. Paper credentials were important to show educational achievement, but the unspoken, unwritten qualities of adaptability, awareness, and foresight have been valued as equally (at times even more) important. While my teachers called these qualities leadership, the adults in my life called them maturity and manners, and employers call it executive presence.  

This is where many high performers begin. While the details of our story may differ, the responsibility often arrived long before we were ready for it.  

For many of us, those early experiences became the foundation for qualities that would later be celebrated. In the world of Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or CPTSD, these adaptations are often viewed through a clinical lens. Yet for many high performers, they are simply the way we have always moved through the world.

We become so accustomed to carrying responsibility that it feels less like a choice and more like a fundamental part of who we are. 

As this series unfolds, I want to explore that reality with curiosity rather than judgment. Not everyone who experienced adversity develops CPTSD, and no two stories are exactly alike. What I have found, both in my own life and in my work with high-performing professionals, is that many of us have spent years refining skills that helped us survive while rarely examining what those same skills cost us.

The ability to remain composed, productive, and dependable can open remarkable doors in our careers and relationships. It can also make it difficult to recognize when we are exhausted, disconnected, or carrying burdens that no longer belong to us. Understanding that tension is where this conversation begins, and it is where we will continue next. 

I’m curious. Were you the responsible one growing up? If so, what is one thing you’ve had to learn as an adult that responsibility never taught you? 

May your capacity never come at the expense of your peace. 

-Oak 

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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

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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

Moments later I was led into a room down a dimly-lit hallway where the heavy boot treads of the large officer in front of me echoed off the concrete walls. My heart beat heavy in my throat and I desperately needed water. I dutifully sat down at the table, as instructed, picked at the bleeding cuticles on my fingers, and the officer asked me what I wanted to report.

I looked up at the man, mid-40’s, thick brown hair, mustache, watery blue eyes, and tried to explain that I ran away from my mother who was cruel. I told him that she was critical, mean, neglectful, made me feel like I was useless and a burden, and I couldn’t take living there any longer. It sounded stupid to say it out loud, and after the man wrote in his book, and closed it, he asked a simple, loaded question, “do you have any bruises?”

How do you tell someone that inside you’re a festering pool of pus and blood and pain? No one could see the injuries that were done to me over the course of my childhood. I didn’t even have the words to explain how I felt to the officer sitting in front of me that day who told me there was nothing he could do if I didn’t have bruises, welts, or other marks from physical abuse.

Emotional abuse isn’t something most people would notice. Often, especially around other people, it’s silent, subtle, and chronic.

It includes, but isn’t limited to: constant criticism, belittling, ignoring your emotions, shaming, mocking, or dismissing your needs. It can also include withholding affection, the silent treatment, emotional unpredictability, children expected to act like a parent (parentification), being made to feel guilty over things you cannot control, pitting you against other family members (especially siblings and the other parent in separation situations) or pitting them against you.

Back then, in the 1980’s and the 1990’s, therapists didn’t have knowledge about emotional trauma and its relationship to complex traumatic childhood experiences. They didn’t have training to notice it. As a matter of fact, children who were in therapy who had the strength to tell the truth (the fight response in trauma) were likely ignored. That’s what happened to me, repeatedly. No one listened, no one heard, and no one helped.

Emotional pain matters. It mattered then, and it matters now.

Many survivors think that other people have had it worse than they did, and perhaps that’s true in some cases, but your pain matters anyway. Emotional abuse is invisible, but its impact is severe. The scars it leaves are difficult to see to outsiders, but take a very long time to heal for victims and affects their ability to deal with emotions and have healthy relationships for the rest of their lives.

For many kids, their brains normalize their environments. So, what they experience, even if it’s horrible, abusive, and just plain messed up, to them, it’s just ‘normal’. For kids with emotionally abusive caregivers, their survival depends on loyalty to the parent, not analysis and reflection. It could be very dangerous for a child to recognize that how they are being treated is abuse, especially if the child acted on their realization (ask me how I know).

If a child doesn’t have a flight or fawn or freeze response to their trauma and, like me, was/is a fighter by nature, then their abuser might have said things like this:

“You think your life is bad?”

“You’re too sensitive“

“Everything I do is for you“

“I’m the best [mom] or [dad]“

“This is discipline“

“This is tough love“

“You owe me everything for what I’ve done for you and what I put up with“

“You’re ungrateful“

When people who were emotionally abused grow up, sometimes they recognize that things were not right, but sometimes they don’t. Some people, like me, knew it all along and had no one to save them from the torment. Sometimes people are still drinking that poison-spiked Kool-Aid mommy made and smiling while drinking it because they don’t know any better. Adulthood should bring distance between you and the abuser, and that distance might allow you to see clearly what really happened, especially if you’re experiencing relationship, communication, and emotional issues.

It is very painful to realize you have been abused, and your abuser will not admit what they did, will not admit the way they treated you was wrong, and if you even bring it up, they’ll likely gaslight you and make you feel like it’s your fault. Best to just leave them out of your journey of recognition and healing.

Your feelings are real. Your experiences are valid. Healing starts with acknowledging what happened and accepting that you deserved love then, and you deserve love now. No matter where you are, you are not too late to start healing.

Suggested resources:

Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson, PsyD (book)

Running on Empty: Overcome Your Childhood Emotional Neglect by Jonice Webb, PhD (book)

Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving by Pete Walker (book)

Strathearn, L., Giannotti, M., Mills, R., Kisely, S., Najman, J., & Abajobir, A. (2020). Long‑term cognitive, psychological, and health outcomes associated with child abuse and neglect. Pediatrics, 146(4), e20200438. https://doi.org/10.1542/peds.2020-0438 (article)

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

Becoming Your Own First Responder

Quinn sat on the edge of their twin bed, staring at their phone screen through blurry eyes. Their heart was still racing from the confrontation with River, their roommate who they’d thought was a close friend. River had cornered Quinn in the kitchen, demanding three months of rent money upfront since Quinn had just been laid off that morning over email.

“I don’t trust that you’ll be able to cover your half going forward,” River had said coldly. “All our friends agree with me.” The words stung worse than the financial demand. Had River really discussed Quinn’s private business with their mutual friends?

Quinn scrolled through their messages with Oakley for the dozenth time. No response. They’d been dating for two months, and now a week of silence. If Oakley wanted to break up, just say so. Where was the closure?

Quinn’s family had never been a source of emotional support. Why was there no one to simply say “I get it, of course you feel this way”? Am I too needy? Quinn wondered.

Outside, sirens wailed in the distance. The sound felt oddly poignant, someone out there was getting the help they needed, quickly. Quinn needed help, but from whom? Just someone to care.

Quinn had tried talk therapy at the sliding-scale clinic, but every session felt like paying to be invalidated. Quinn’s body felt heavy and disconnected and they couldn’t remember the last time they’d prayed. They weren’t sure God would hear them anyway.

All Quinn knew was the misery of being stuck in this room, holding a phone full of unreliable contacts. They wanted someone to witness what they’d been through, to believe them, to help them understand what they even needed. But that someone felt impossible to find.

If Quinn’s story resonates with you, you’re not alone. When the people around us don’t provide what we need, we can learn to become our own first responders. This isn’t about never needing support—it’s about building skills to care for yourself when others fail you.

When you’ve survived complex trauma, betrayal, or narcissistic abuse, you often find yourself desperately needing support from the very people who can’t or won’t provide it. This article will help you learn to become your own first responder. We’ll explore how to provide yourself with the essential things every trauma survivor needs:

1. Closure: Finding closure on your own when others leave you hanging
2. Validation: Believing your own reality when others won’t acknowledge it
3. Witnessing: Being seen and heard, even if it’s by you yourself
4. Nurturing: Providing comfort and care to yourself when you’re emotionally wounded
5. Safety: Protecting yourself when others don’t
6. Meaning-Making: Finding purpose in your pain when life feels senseless
7. Identity Rebuilding: Discovering who you are beyond survival mode
8. Professional Support: Knowing when and how to get backup

You’ll also find practical scripts for communicating your needs, gentle affirmations for difficult moments, and a comprehensive list of resources at the end. This isn’t about becoming completely self-sufficient or never needing anyone again. It’s about developing the skills to show up for yourself, especially when external support isn’t available or safe.

Understanding Your Survival Brain and Learning Self-Compassion

Before we dive into specific strategies, we need to talk about two foundational pieces that make everything else possible: understanding how your brain works during stress, and learning to speak to yourself with kindness instead of criticism.

Why Being Your Own First Responder Is Harder Than It Sounds

When you need these skills the most is often when they’re hardest to access. Your brain during trauma or high stress works very differently than your brain during calm moments. When your nervous system detects danger – whether it’s real physical threat or emotional overwhelm – your thinking brain essentially goes offline. This is your survival system doing exactly what it’s designed to do to keep you alive.

Instead of thinking clearly, you might find yourself responding automatically.

• Fight responses might look like getting angry, arguing, or feeling rage that seems too big for the situation.
• Flight responses could be wanting to escape, avoiding certain places, or literally leaving situations abruptly.
• Freeze responses often feel like going blank, feeling stuck, having trouble speaking, or feeling disconnected from your body or surroundings (called dissociation).
• Fawn responses might show up as people-pleasing, over-apologizing, or taking care of others’ emotions at your own expense.
• Flop responses combine elements of freeze and fawn – your body goes limp while you passively comply, like feeling numb during an argument or going along with harmful behavior because resistance feels impossible.

None of these responses are wrong. They’re your nervous system’s attempt to keep you safe. The challenge is that when you’re in these states, accessing the thinking, self-caring part of yourself becomes nearly impossible. If even choosing where to start feels impossible, that’s not laziness—it’s a symptom of trauma’s impact on executive functioning. Just begin anywhere, and let that be enough.

The Foundation: Changing Your Inner Voice

Perhaps the most important skill for becoming your own first responder is learning to speak to yourself with compassion instead of criticism. Many trauma survivors have developed a harsh inner critic that sounds like the people who hurt them. This inner voice might say things like “Maybe I’m overreacting,” “I should be over this by now,” or “I’m too weak to handle this.”

Safety begins inside your own mind. When you stop judging yourself and start supporting yourself during times of struggle, you can begin to see the possibility of actual safety and healing. This shift from inner critic to inner supporter is foundational for everything else in this article to work.

Quinn realized that they spoke to themselves more harshly than they would ever speak to a friend. When River demanded the rent money, Quinn’s first thought was “I’m so embarrassed. I’m such a failure for getting laid off.” Learning to respond with “This is a really difficult situation and anyone would be stressed” was the beginning of creating internal safety.

Real first responders understand that crisis situations require special protocols. They don’t just learn their techniques once – they practice them repeatedly until their responses become automatic under pressure. They run drills in calm moments so that when crisis hits, their training kicks in even when clear thinking doesn’t.

This means becoming your own first responder isn’t about having perfect responses in the moment. It’s about practicing small, simple actions when you’re calm so they’re more likely to be available when you’re not. It’s about progress, not perfection, and celebrating even the tiniest steps forward.

Here’s what realistic expectations look like:

During an acute trauma response: Your only job is to survive and get to safety. If you can remember to breathe or move to a safer space, that’s enough. You’re not failing if you can’t remember any techniques.

In the hours or days after: Basic self-care becomes possible. Maybe you can drink water, eat something simple, take a shower, or get some sleep. Small steps count.

When you’re feeling more regulated: This is when you can plan, practice new skills, and prepare for next time. Don’t expect yourself to do deep healing work when you’re barely hanging on.

Remember: even professional first responders don’t operate perfectly under pressure. What makes them effective is that they show up, they do what they can with what they have, and they keep trying to help. You can give yourself this same compassion.

Affirmation: “I am learning to show up for myself with kindness, one small step at a time.”

1. Closure: Finding Closure When Others Leave You Hanging

One of the most painful aspects of trauma and abuse is how often you’re left without closure. People ghost you, liars deflect when confronted, and sometimes the safest choice is to walk away without explanation. You’re left with questions that feel urgent but may never be answered. Oakley wasn’t the first person to ghost Quinn, and sadly wouldn’t be the last.

As your own first responder, you can learn to “secure the scene” and provide your own sense of closure. This doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine. It means acknowledging that closure is something you can create for yourself, independent of what others do or don’t give you.

Assess What Happened: First responders assess danger before acting. For you, this means acknowledging the truth of what happened—without needing anyone else’s permission to call it wrong. Once you name it for what it is, you can smartly refuse to open yourself to further harm. Quinn resisted the very strong urge to be vulnerable in a long cathartic text to Oakley after a week of silence. To send it and not hear back would only increase the injury and prolong the pain.

Remove from Danger Zone: Quinn left the kitchen and refused to engage with River until they could collect their thoughts. Once in the privacy of their own quiet space, Quinn could begin to sort out what just happened without allowing River to manipulate them further. If possible, you can make the choice to not give an unsafe person access to you without owing them an explanation. Safety first. You’ll be able to figure out next steps much more clearly when you’re away from danger.

Provide Treatment: Create your own closure rituals. Quinn wrote a detailed letter to Oakley expressing everything they wished they could say about being ghosted. They never sent it, but reading it aloud to their empty room and then tearing it up felt cathartic. They also wrote a letter to their boss for laying them off over email with no chance for a face to face conversation. Quinn still mentally replayed all the things they wanted to say for a while, but each time they followed the closure ritual, the power of painful emotions behind it weakened.

Adjust Perspective: Reframe your story in a way that gives you agency. Instead of “Why did this happen to me?” try “What can I learn about myself from how I survived this?” You get to be the author of what your experience means, regardless of what the other person intended.

For ongoing situations with harmful people you can’t completely avoid, you can create closure around your attempts to change them while maintaining necessary boundaries. It’s hard not to get stuck in cycles of trying to make unreasonable people be reasonable, or trying to get validation from people who will never give it. Learning to close the door on those attempts while still managing necessary contact is a vital skill.

Many survivors find this type of self-created closure overly simplified at first. “I’m choosing to close this chapter not because it’s resolved, but because I deserve to move forward” can feel impossible when you’re still in pain. That’s okay. Closure often happens in layers, and you might need to create it multiple times as you heal and understand more. Start with whatever feels manageable, even if it’s just: “I acknowledge that this hurt me, and that matters.”

Bottom line, you can process the situation on your own timeline without the other person participating. You can focus your energy on what you can control moving forward. And you don’t need an apology to know that what happened wasn’t okay.

Affirmation: “I can find closure within myself, even when others leave me with questions.”

2. Validation: Validating Your Own Reality When Others Won’t

Validation might be the most fundamental need for trauma survivors, especially those who’ve experienced gaslighting or emotional manipulation. When others have told you that your perceptions were wrong or your feelings were too much, learning to trust your own inner knowing becomes both essential and terrifying.

Take Vital Signs: Just like first responders check pulse and breathing to assess what’s really happening, you can learn to check in with your own emotional and physical responses as valid information. That knot in your stomach around certain people, the way your shoulders tense in specific environments – these are data points, not random occurrences. Even if these responses may be based on something historical rather than current, they are still real and need to be honored rather than ignored.

Document the Incident: Keep validation journals that create a record of your reality. Write down the facts of what happened, how it affected you, and why your response made sense. Include phrases like “Of course I felt scared when…” or “It makes sense that I was confused because…” Quinn started writing: “It makes sense that I felt betrayed when River shared my private business with our friends. Anyone would feel violated by that.”

Recognize Normal Responses: Learn about common trauma reactions to provide yourself with evidence-based validation. When you discover that being constantly on guard (called hypervigilance), feeling overwhelming emotions that seem bigger than the current situation (known as emotional flashbacks), or people-pleasing behaviors are normal responses to trauma, it helps you understand that you’re having normal responses to abnormal experiences.

Your nervous system often recognizes danger before your thinking mind does. Quinn’s body felt exhausted after every interaction with River, even “normal” conversations. Learning that this energy drain was a typical response to being around manipulative people helped Quinn trust their instincts about limiting contact.

Find books, articles, podcasts, and videos by trauma experts describing experiences similar to yours. Hearing your experience described by someone with professional credibility can counteract years of being told you were “too sensitive.”

Finding Safe Online Communities: Look for moderated support communities rather than open forums like Reddit. Consider NAMI online support groups, 7 Cups peer support (which has some moderation), or closed social media groups with active moderation and clear community guidelines. Always prioritize communities focused on healing and recovery rather than just venting about trauma. When joining any online community, start by observing before sharing, and trust your instincts about whether the environment feels supportive or triggering.

Scripts for Seeking Validation:

“I’m looking for someone who can help me understand if my response to this situation makes sense, without trying to fix or minimize what I experienced.”

“I need to talk to someone who has experience with these types of situations and can help me reality-check what happened.”

“Can you help me understand if what I’m feeling is normal, without trying to talk me out of my feelings?”

For those dealing with discrimination or institutional problems, document everything. Keep records of incidents and note patterns. This isn’t just about building evidence – it’s about having concrete proof when others try to make you doubt what you experienced. (Although, it’s common for unhealthy people to refuse acknowledging the truth regardless of facts or evidence, which is even more reason to not rely on someone else for validation unless they’re proven to be emotionally safe.)

You might also consider using AI chatbots for perspective when human support isn’t available – while not a replacement for human connection or professional help, they can sometimes offer validation and help you organize your thoughts when you’re feeling confused or isolated. Type in the whole situation and ask the AI to help you understand the dynamics and facts.

Affirmation: “I trust my inner knowing and honor my emotional responses as valuable information.”

3. Witnessing: Becoming the Witness You Never Had

One of the deepest needs trauma survivors have is for someone to truly see and acknowledge what they’ve been through. When you’ve been gaslighted or told your perceptions were wrong, having a witness feels essential for healing. The challenge is that many people aren’t equipped to be present for your truth, especially if it makes them uncomfortable.

Assess the Situation: Learning to witness yourself compassionately is like being your own detective and medic combined. You’re both gathering evidence of what really happened and responding to that evidence with kindness rather than judgment.

Create Records: Trauma journals serve as both witness and evidence. Write specifically to acknowledge what happened with phrases like “This really happened,” “This wasn’t normal,” and “My feelings about this made sense.” Quinn started each entry with “Today I’m witnessing for myself that…” followed by whatever they needed to acknowledge. Sometimes the most healing thing you can write is: “What happened to me was real, and it affected me.”

For an easy start, try simple writing prompts:

• Today I acknowledge that…
• Something that wasn’t my fault was…
• A feeling that made complete sense was… Something I survived was…

Recording yourself speaking about your experiences can be powerful, especially if your trauma involved being silenced. You don’t have to keep these recordings forever, but hearing yourself speak your truth out loud, without interruption, can be deeply validating. You might also use voice-to-text features to create written records if speaking feels easier than writing.

Symbolic Expression: For experiences too overwhelming to approach directly, symbolic representation can help. Use objects, colors, or images to represent different parts of your story. A heavy rock might represent the weight you carried, broken pottery might represent what was damaged. Ponder the Japanese art of kintsugi – repairing broken pottery with gold, making it more beautiful than before – as a metaphor for how your healing can transform your wounds into sources of strength.

Observe Progress: Surround yourself with reminders of your healing journey – photos that show your growth, quotes that speak to your experience, or meaningful objects that represent your resilience. These visual cues can provide validation when you need reminders of your progress.

The Undefined Witness: Anonymous blogging platforms like Medium (with privacy settings enabled and comments disabled) can allow you to share your story without exposing your identity. Creative expression through art, music, or simple crafts like making collages can reach parts of your experience that words can’t touch.

Understanding Trauma Dumping: Many survivors experience an almost irresistible urge to share their trauma story repeatedly with anyone who will listen. This isn’t weakness – it’s your psyche’s attempt to find someone who will witness and validate your reality. The compulsive need to “purge” your story through repetitive telling is normal, but it’s important to recognize when you’re seeking external validation for internal wounds that need witnessing.

When you notice this urge, pause and ask: “What do I personally need to witness about this experience right now?” Often, you can give yourself this witnessing first, which reduces the urgency to seek it from others who might not be able to witness it safely. This doesn’t mean never sharing your story – it means being intentional about when, how, and with whom you share it.

Scripts for Requesting Witnessing:

“I need someone to listen to what I’ve been through without trying to fix or minimize what I’m sharing.”

“Can you just hear my experience without offering advice right now? I’m not looking for solutions – I just need someone to acknowledge that this was hard.”

“I’m looking for someone who can be present with me while I share something difficult, without trying to make it better or tell me how to feel about it.”

Affirmation: “My experience deserves to be witnessed with compassion, starting with my own.”

4. Nurturing: Providing Comfort When Care Isn’t Available

Learning to nurture yourself when you’re emotionally wounded is like performing emotional first aid. When you’ve grown up without consistent nurturing or been surrounded by people who didn’t provide care, you might not even know what nurturing feels like, let alone how to give it to yourself. Nurturing is responding to your pain with gentleness instead of criticism, meeting your needs with care instead of neglect, and treating yourself like someone worthy of comfort and kindness.

Triage Your Needs: The exhaustion from complex trauma runs soul-deep. You might feel like you’re barely hanging on hour by hour. Start with the smallest possible acts of care rather than elaborate self-care routines when you can barely manage survival. This might look like keeping snacks by your bed so you can eat something without leaving your room, having a water bottle within reach, or simply taking one conscious deep breath.

Provide Immediate Comfort: Physical nurturing can be accessible even when emotional nurturing feels complicated. Put your hand on your heart when upset, wrap yourself in a soft blanket, or make a warm drink. Your nervous system responds to gentle physical care even when emotions feel chaotic. Quinn found that warm baths helped when everything else felt overwhelming.

Develop Internal Caregiving: Practice self-parenting by developing an internal voice that speaks to you like a loving parent would speak to a frightened child. Quinn realized they were far more compassionate to friends than to themselves, so they started asking: “What would I say to my best friend if they were going through this?” Then they practiced saying those same words to themselves.

Create Comfort Kits: In a box, assemble a collection of items that engage your senses soothingly. Essential oils, calming music, soft textures, or peaceful images. Keep these accessible for when you’re struggling, because trauma often disrupts your ability to think clearly about what might help. If these items are already in one place, you only need to think of the singular box rather than the many things inside of it.

Find Natural Comfort: If possible, companion animals provide unconditional nurturing when human relationships feel complicated. Pets offer physical affection and acceptance without judgment. Even if you can’t have a pet, volunteering at shelters or watching animal videos can provide some nurturing energy.

Nature offers nurturing that doesn’t require anything from you in return. Trees, water, sky, and earth have been comforting humans for millennia. Even looking out a window at natural elements or having plants in your space can offer an awareness and connection to something large and wondrous.

Body Work: Professional touch therapy like massage, craniosacral therapy, myofascial release, or reflexology can provide nurturing through skilled, boundaried touch, especially healing for those whose trauma involved touch violation or who grew up without healthy physical affection.

Creative Therapy: For those with limited energy, try tiny nurturing acts: cutting paper snowflakes, coloring with crayons, making simple origami, or arranging flowers from your yard. The goal is gentle engagement, not masterpieces.

Affirmation: “I am worthy of gentleness and care, especially my own.”

5. Safety: Creating Protection When It Isn’t Provided

Safety is the foundation that makes everything else possible. Learning to create your own sense of safety isn’t about becoming invulnerable – it’s about developing your ability to recognize danger and respond in ways that protect your wellbeing.

Secure the Perimeter: Emotional safety boundaries are limits you set to protect your wellbeing. Don’t share personal information with people who’ve used it against you, limit contact with individuals who consistently upset you, or choose not to engage certain topics with particular people. If setting boundaries feels ‘selfish,’ remember: protecting your safety isn’t cruelty—it’s a prerequisite for healthy relationships. Boundaries aren’t walls – they’re gates you control. Quinn learned to stop sharing personal concerns with River after realizing River used this information to create drama with their friend group.

Protect from Further Harm: Safety includes shielding yourself from additional damage when you’re already wounded. Set inner monologue boundaries by learning to interrupt harsh self-criticism – and when you notice that critical voice, don’t judge yourself for judging. Simply notice it with curiosity rather than more criticism. Limit contact or information sharing with unsafe people during emotionally fragile periods. Avoid triggering news, social media, or content when you’re struggling. Create environmental protection by avoiding overwhelming places or situations, limiting stimulation when your nervous system is activated, and giving yourself permission to say no and not let obligation or guilt rule you. Also, protect yourself by not making big decisions when you’re in crisis mode.

Evacuate to Safety: Physical safety planning involves thinking through protection in various situations. Have exit strategies from social gatherings, keep important documents accessible, maintain some financial independence even if it’s just keeping some cash on hand, or know how to quickly contact help. Even small safety measures can significantly reduce anxiety and increase your sense of control.

Establish Communication Protocols: Digital boundaries have become increasingly important. Block harmful numbers and social media accounts, adjust privacy settings, use different email addresses for different purposes, and be thoughtful about personal information you share online. Your digital space deserves the same protection as your physical space.

Provide Calming Treatment: Learn techniques to help your nervous system recognize when you’re actually safe. Deep breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, grounding techniques using your five senses, and gentle movement can signal safety to your nervous system. Quinn learned to notice when their shoulders hunched and jaw clenched – signs their body was bracing for danger even in safe situations. Consciously relaxing these muscles helped their nervous system understand that immediate threat had passed.

Set Up Treatment Area: Create safe spaces in your physical environment where you can retreat to regroup. A corner of your bedroom with comfortable seating, a car where you have privacy, or even a bathroom where you can take breathing space. Having designated safe spaces helps you feel less trapped when situations become overwhelming.

Manage Resources: Financial safety, even in small amounts, provides important options and reduces vulnerability. Keep some cash accessible, maintain your own bank account, or develop skills that could provide income if needed. Even small steps toward financial independence can significantly impact your sense of security.

Scripts for Communicating Safety Needs:

“I need to step away from this situation because it doesn’t feel safe for me right now.”

“I’m not comfortable discussing this topic.”

“I need some time to think about this before I can respond.”

For systemic unsafe situations like domestic violence, stalking, workplace harassment, or family threats, safety planning becomes more complex and requires professional guidance through legal consultation, domestic violence advocates, or organizations that understand the specific challenges you’re facing. Don’t try to handle dangerous situations alone – these require specialized expertise to navigate safely.

Affirmation: “I can trust myself to recognize danger and take steps to protect my wellbeing.”Subscribed

6. Making Meaning: Finding Purpose When Life Feels Senseless

One of the most challenging aspects of trauma recovery is trying to make sense of experiences that seem senseless. As your own first responder, you can learn to create meaning from your experiences, even when no one else can provide satisfactory answers.

Observe Positive Gains: Post-traumatic growth doesn’t mean being grateful for trauma or pretending it was “worth it.” It involves recognizing ways you’ve developed strength, wisdom, or compassion as a result of surviving difficult experiences. Quinn noticed they’d become exceptionally good at reading people’s emotional states and recognizing manipulation. While they wouldn’t have chosen to develop this skill through trauma, acknowledging it helped them see that their pain had contributed to their ability to help others and protect themselves.

Documenting your capabilities and resources that helped you survive can reveal strengths you might not recognize. What qualities enabled you to endure what you endured? What internal resources did you draw on? Sometimes abilities that developed through survival – like being highly observant or good at reading situations – can be applied in positive contexts once you’re safer.

Define Values: Identify what matters most to you, separate from what you were told should matter. Trauma strips away everything non-essential, often revealing core values you might not have recognized otherwise. Quinn realized their experience with betrayal had taught them that authenticity and loyalty were non-negotiable in relationships – a clarity that helped them make better choices about who to trust.

If exploring meaning-making feels overwhelming or you don’t have clear answers yet, that’s completely okay. There’s deep healing in simply accepting yourself exactly as you are without pressure to “do better” or “be more.” Sometimes the most meaningful thing you can do is honor your current capacity without judgment. Recognizing your limits and working within them is wisdom, not weakness.

For a gentle start, try smaller approaches:

• What’s one thing I value about how I handled today?
• What’s one small way my experience might help someone else someday?
• What’s one thing I’m grateful survived in me despite everything?

Purpose-driven projects: These can transform personal pain into something that serves others. This might involve advocacy, creative projects, mentoring, or any activity that uses your experience to benefit others. The goal isn’t to make trauma “worth it,” but to ensure your suffering contributes to something meaningful that helps create positive change in the world.

When considering helping others, gently check that you’re offering help where it’s actually wanted and needed, rather than using service to others as a way to avoid dealing with your own pain. True service focuses on what the other person needs, not what makes you feel better about your experiences.

Faith Recovery: If your faith or spirituality feels fractured, that’s not a failure. Trauma can sever our sense of connection to the divine or sacred. Healing may involve reframing or rebuilding those beliefs in gentler, more loving ways—at your pace, on your terms.

Affirmation: “I can create meaning and purpose from my experiences, even the painful ones.”

7. Identity Rebuilding: Discovering Who You Are Beyond Survival

When you’ve spent years in survival mode, learning who you are beyond your trauma responses can feel both exciting and terrifying. Rebuilding your identity is like conducting search and rescue – you’re both discovering who you’ve always been underneath the survival strategies and creating who you want to become.

Search and Recovery Operations: Many trauma survivors realize they don’t know what they actually like, want, or who they are when not protecting themselves from harm. Start small with preference exploration. Notice what colors, foods, music, or activities genuinely appeal to you versus what you think you should like. Quinn discovered they actually loved bright colors and bold patterns and made a point to add pops of color to their cozy bedroom.

Assess Available Resources: Recognize capabilities you have that aren’t just about surviving trauma. What are you naturally good at? What do people come to you for help with? Sometimes strengths that developed through survival – like being highly observant – can be applied in positive contexts once you’re safer.

The reality is that trauma survivors are often behind in some developmental areas because you’ve been focused on survival while others had the safety to explore interests and develop skills. This isn’t your fault, and acknowledging this gap is important rather than pretending it doesn’t exist. You’re doing necessary work that others took for granted, and there’s no shame in starting where you are.

Discover New Skills: Learning new abilities in areas unrelated to trauma can expand your sense of identity beyond being someone who has “been through things.” You can try simple creative expressions: arranging books by color, creating small displays with meaningful objects, organizing collections like stones or shells in pleasing patterns, humming melodies that make you feel good, or moving your body in ways that feel natural and comfortable.

If identity exploration feels overwhelming, try very small creative acts: making simple collages from magazine pictures, doodling patterns while listening to music, or writing single words that describe how you want to feel. The goal isn’t artistic achievement – it’s gentle self-discovery.

Plan for the Future: Envision who you want to become rather than who you had to be to survive. If fear or pain wasn’t the primary factor in your decisions, what would you choose? This isn’t about denying your past – it’s about expanding your identity to include possibilities beyond your survival story.

Affirmation: “I am discovering and creating who I want to be, one choice at a time.”

8. Professional Support: Knowing When to Call for Backup

Just like first responders know when a situation requires specialized backup, learning to recognize when you need professional help is vital. This isn’t about failing to handle things independently – it’s about recognizing that some wounds require specialized treatment.

Recognize When Backup Is Needed: You deserve proper professional care, not just whatever you can afford. Working with poorly trained therapists can create additional trauma, waste limited resources, and convince you that therapy doesn’t work. A bad therapist can set healing back significantly, while a skilled trauma therapist can accelerate progress in ways that make the investment worthwhile.

Warning signs that indicate you need professional support include persistent thoughts of self-harm, inability to function in daily life for extended periods, substance abuse as coping, feeling disconnected from your body or surroundings in ways that affect your ability to function safely (dissociation), panic attacks that don’t respond to self-help, or trauma responses getting worse rather than better.

Other indicators that professional support would be beneficial: feeling stuck in the same patterns despite your efforts, relationships that consistently end in similar harmful ways, work performance suffering due to trauma responses, physical symptoms that might be trauma-related, or feeling overwhelmed by the healing process.

Request Appropriate Specialists: When looking for trauma-informed help, credentials and specialized training matter more than general therapy credentials. Look for therapists who specifically mention trauma training and use evidence-based approaches.

EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing): Helps process traumatic memories through guided eye movements, allowing your brain to properly file away disturbing memories.

Internal Family Systems (IFS): Works with different parts of your personality, helping heal wounded parts while strengthening your core self.

Somatic Experiencing: A body-based approach that helps release trauma stored in your nervous system.

Cognitive Processing Therapy (CPT): Helps examine and challenge trauma-related thoughts and beliefs.

Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT): Teaches specific skills for managing intense emotions and improving relationships.

Trauma-Focused CBT: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy adapted for trauma, helping identify unhelpful thought patterns while developing practical coping strategies.

Assess Qualifications: Questions to ask potential therapists and what answers to look for:

• “What specific training do you have in trauma treatment?” Look for: Specific certifications, ongoing education, years of trauma-focused practice
• “What approach do you typically use for complex trauma?” Look for: Evidence-based modalities, individualized treatment plans, familiarity with your specific type of trauma
• “How do you handle it when clients feel overwhelmed in session?” Look for: Trauma-informed responses, awareness of pacing, commitment to safety and not retraumatizing
• “What’s your philosophy about the pace of trauma healing?” Look for: Patient-centered approach, no pressure for quick fixes, understanding that healing isn’t linear

Identify Red Flags: Warning signs in potential therapists include minimizing your experiences, pushing you to “get over” things quickly, lacking trauma training, seeming uncomfortable with trauma topics, trying to diagnose you immediately, making you feel judged, or pressuring you to forgive without accountability.

Scripts for Communicating with Potential Therapists:

“I’m looking for someone with specific training in complex trauma and PTSD. Can you tell me about your qualifications and approach?”

“I need a therapist who understands that healing takes time and won’t rush the process. How do you typically pace trauma work?”

“I want to work with someone who uses evidence-based trauma treatments. Which modalities are you trained in?”

“I need to feel safe and understood, not judged or pushed beyond my capacity. How do you ensure clients feel safe in session?”

Handle Dangerous Situations: If you’re in immediate danger from domestic violence, stalking, workplace harassment, family threats, or other harmful situations, professional help should include specialized safety planning. Don’t try to handle dangerous situations alone – these require experts who understand the specific risks and safety strategies for your situation.

Legal Considerations: In some situations, therapy records can be subpoenaed in legal proceedings. If you’re involved in custody disputes, criminal cases, or other legal matters, your therapy notes might be used in court, and your therapist might be required to testify. Discuss confidentiality limits with potential therapists before beginning treatment so you understand what information might not remain private.

Coordinate Resources: Financial considerations include therapists who offer sliding scale fees, community low-cost clinics, employee assistance programs, insurance coverage for trauma therapy, community mental health centers, and university training clinics.

Affirmation: “I deserve professional support that honors my experience and accelerates my healing.”

The Reality of Healing: Progress Over Perfection

Becoming your own first responder isn’t about perfect self-sufficiency or never needing others again. It’s about building the inner resources to consistently show up for yourself—especially when support is absent. This takes time, with setbacks and breakthroughs, good days and hard ones.

Healing from complex trauma can be inconsistent. You might thrive in one area while struggling in another, or feel strong for weeks then barely function for days. This isn’t failure—it’s the nature of healing.

Celebrate every so-called “small” victory. Taking space when you need it, avoiding drama, trusting your instincts, or simply making it through a hard day without harming yourself—these are not small. They’re signs of strength and growth.

As you practice in low-stakes situations, the gap between knowing what to do and being able to do it will shrink. The goal isn’t to eliminate trauma responses but to expand your options beyond old survival patterns.

Your ability to be your own first responder will fluctuate. Some days you’ll use advanced tools. Other days, it’s enough just to stay alive and be gentle with yourself. Both are valid. Both matter.

You’re re-parenting yourself—learning skills others may have gained in safer homes, often while still facing ongoing stress. Acknowledge the depth of that work. It’s heroic.

You’re not meant to do this alone forever. Being your own first responder lays the groundwork for healthy interdependence—not isolation. As you grow, you’ll naturally attract healthier relationships and engage from choice, not desperation.

The goal isn’t independence—it’s interdependence: two whole people showing up for themselves and each other. That’s the kind of connection you’re preparing for.

Your healing matters—to you and to others. Every act of self-rescue sends ripples outward. You’re breaking cycles, modeling resilience, and helping build a world where those who’ve been hurt can still heal and thrive.

You are not broken. You are not too much. You are not alone. You’ve survived so much—and now, you’re learning to thrive. That takes courage. And you have more of it than you know.

Final Affirmation: “I am showing up for myself with compassion, wisdom, and patience.”

Resources

I have not personally used all of these resources, so please exercise your own discernment before engaging with these organizations.

CRISIS RESOURCES

For free and confidential support 24/7:

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline Call or text 988, or visit www.988lifeline.org

National Domestic Violence Hotline Call 800-799-SAFE (7233), text LOVEIS to 22522, or visit www.thehotline.org

Love Is Respect (Dating Abuse Helpline) Call 866-331-9474, text LOVEIS to 22522, or visit www.loveisrespect.org

Crisis Text Line Text HOME to 741741, or visit www.crisistextline.org

Trans Lifeline Call 877-565-8860, or visit www.translifeline.org

TrevorLifeline for LGBTQIA+ Youth Call 866-488-7386, text START to 678-678, or visit www.thetrevorproject.org

THERAPY RESOURCES

Association for Behavioral and Cognitive Therapies (ABCT) Find CBT-trained therapists: www.abct.org

Association for Contextual Behavioral Science (ACBS) Find ACT-trained therapists: www.contextualscience.org

Behavioral Tech Find DBT-trained therapists: www.behavioraltech.org

EMDR International Association Find EMDR-trained therapists: www.emdria.org

The Center for Self Leadership Find IFS-trained therapists: www.selfleadership.org

ADDITIONAL SUPPORT RESOURCES

CPTSD Foundation – www.cptsdfoundation.org

Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA) – www.adaa.org

National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) – www.nami.org

Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (DBSA) – www.dbsalliance.org

National Center for PTSD – www.ptsd.va.gov

BPD Central – www.bpdcentral.org

Treatment and Research Advancements Association for Personality Disorder (TARA) – www.tara4bpd.org

National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA) – www.nationaleatingdisorders.org

International OCD Foundation (IOCDF) – www.iocdf.org

Children and Adults with Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (CHADD) – www.chadd.org

If you are experiencing thoughts of self-harm or suicide, please reach out for immediate help. In the US, you can contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988. If you are in immediate danger, call 911. You deserve support, and help is available.

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

Photo Credit: Author, Substack

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