Internalized Worthlessness: When You Truly Believe You Don’t Matter

Khalil stood in front of his bathroom mirror, adjusting his tie for the third time. His therapist Dr. Rivera had suggested this simple daily affirmation: “I matter. My voice matters.” But today, the words felt foreign in his mouth, like stones too heavy to lift.

The promotion letter lay unopened on his dresser—the department chair position he’d been quietly encouraged to apply for. Instead, he’d recommended his colleague Tariq, insisting Tariq would be “a better fit.” Yet in his current role, Khalil regularly stayed hours after his shift ended, taking on the cases nobody wanted, covering colleagues’ weekends without complaint, and volunteering for every committee that needed members.

“You’re the hardest working doctor in this hospital,” his supervisor often said, not realizing that Khalil’s relentless work ethic wasn’t ambition but atonement—constant payment for the space he occupied in the world.

Downstairs, his achievement awards lined the hallway—the community leadership plaque, his medical school diploma, framed articles about the free clinic he’d helped establish. His mother Amara had insisted on displaying them, proud of the son who had “made something of himself.” What the awards didn’t show was how he’d driven himself to exhaustion earning them, taking on impossible workloads while declining recognition that might put him too visibly in the spotlight.

At the clinic, he was known for working through lunch, seeing extra patients, and personally making follow-up calls on his drive home. The staff marveled at his dedication while worrying about his health. Last month, he’d nearly collapsed from pneumonia after refusing to take sick days, convinced the clinic would fall apart without him—not because he was irreplaceable, but because he felt responsible for everyone else’s welfare while dismissing his own.

“You coming to the fundraiser tonight?” His colleague Nisha had texted earlier. “They’re recognizing your refugee healthcare initiative.”

Khalil had responded with a thumbs-up emoji, not mentioning how he’d personally covered three families’ medical bills last month when funding ran short, stretching his finances thin. He hadn’t told anyone, adding it to the invisible ledger of things he did to prove his worth—a ledger that somehow never balanced, no matter how much he gave.

Last week, he’d run into Leila at a conference. Now married with children, she’d mentioned casually, “Remember how I always said you worked too hard? Looks like nothing’s changed.” She didn’t know that after their breakup, he’d thrown himself even deeper into his career, taking overnight shifts and weekend rotations that no one else wanted, filling every moment so he wouldn’t have to face the silence of his apartment and the whispers of inadequacy that filled it.

He practiced his smile in the mirror—the one that projected confidence while hiding the constant calculation happening behind it: Am I doing enough? Have I earned my place today? What more should I be giving?

The irony wasn’t lost on him. As a doctor, he fiercely advocated for his patients to prioritize their wellbeing, to set boundaries, to recognize their inherent value beyond what they could produce or achieve. He could articulate with perfect clarity how every human deserved care and rest simply by existing. For everyone except himself.

There’s a particular kind of heartbreak that comes from trying your absolute hardest to make a difference—whether in the life of someone you love, a community you care about, or a cause you believe in—only to watch your efforts disappear like teardrops in an ocean. You extend your hands to try to hold back what feels like a tsunami of dysfunction, injustice, or pain, and find yourself nearly drowning in the process. And after years, perhaps decades of this pattern repeating, something shifts deep inside. A quiet, devastating conclusion forms: I don’t matter.

This is internalized worthlessness—what psychologists might clinically term “existential invalidation” that has been absorbed into your very sense of self. It goes beyond mere discouragement or feelings of ineffectiveness. It’s the bone-deep belief that your existence, your voice, your efforts fundamentally lack the weight or significance to affect the world around you. Yet this belief, however entrenched, is a distortion, not a truth.

How This Wound Forms

Internalized worthlessness rarely begins in adulthood. Its seeds are typically planted in childhood, often in homes where a child’s emotions, perspectives, or needs were consistently dismissed or minimized. In narcissistic family systems, children learn early that their reality holds less value than the distorted reality their caregivers insist upon. They’re told they’re “too sensitive,” “overreacting,” or simply wrong about what they’ve experienced.

But even those who grow up in relatively healthy homes eventually encounter a world that can be profoundly invalidating:

• The high-achieving student whose genuine passion is met with indifference
• The whistleblower whose truth-telling is punished rather than rewarded
• The compassionate friend whose efforts to help a struggling loved one are resisted or rejected
• The advocate who watches institutions protect the powerful while abandoning the vulnerable

Each instance reinforces the message: “I don’t count. I can’t change anything. I make no difference.”

In our modern digital landscape, this wound now comes with metrics. Social media platforms offer concrete numbers to measure our “impact”—likes, shares, follows—creating an endless treadmill where we can never quite outrun the feeling of insignificance. Previous generations may have wondered about their reach; today’s can watch it quantified in real-time, often reinforcing feelings of inadequacy.

One of the most powerful and often unconscious dynamics in this struggle is how our primal need for attachment frequently overrides our authenticity. As humans, we are wired for connection before almost anything else. When faced with a terrible choice between maintaining our authentic sense of worth and maintaining attachment to important people in our lives, our survival brain will often sacrifice our self-worth to preserve the attachment.

This explains why even people who intellectually understand their inherent value may continue to behave as if they don’t matter when around certain people – particularly authority figures, romantic partners, or family members. The threat of losing connection activates such primal fear that abandoning our truth feels like the safer option. Children in invalidating environments make this bargain instinctively: “I’ll believe I don’t matter if it means you’ll stay connected to me.” As adults, we continue this pattern unconsciously, particularly in relationships that echo our early attachment experiences.

The Blueprint for Future Relationships

This early conditioning creates a powerful template that shapes all future relationships. Having learned that their needs and opinions matter less than others’, many carry this blueprint forward, unconsciously seeking out or creating situations that confirm what they already “know” to be true. They enter friendships, romantic relationships, or work environments where they automatically defer to others, accept mistreatment as normal, and feel guilty for having needs at all.

They become magnets for people who sense this pliability and exploit it – partners who expect them to remain in relationship while being totally neglected, friends who disappear when support is needed but demand immediate attention for their crises, bosses who pile on extra work without recognition or compensation. They’re so busy hustling for their worthiness, they don’t even notice their own self-worth baseline is at zero.

What makes this cycle so devastating is how it confirms the original wound. Each relationship that follows this pattern becomes another piece of “evidence” reinforcing the belief that was planted long ago, operating beneath your conscious awareness but directing your choices nonetheless.

The Paradox of Accomplishment

Perhaps the cruelest aspect of internalized worthlessness is that it often persists despite objective evidence to the contrary. Many who suffer from this belief are highly accomplished individuals—teachers who’ve inspired hundreds, healthcare workers who’ve saved lives, artists whose work has moved many to tears, parents who’ve raised kind and capable children.

Yet deep in their nervous system, a primal panic remains: I haven’t done enough. It’s not enough. I’m not enough.

What makes this so insidious is that this belief often operates completely outside of conscious awareness. Many people reach middle age or beyond before realizing that “I don’t matter” has been the invisible force shaping their entire lives – their career choices, relationships, how they respond to conflict, their reluctance to ask for help, their endless drive to achieve, their difficulty receiving love. It’s not a thought you consciously think, but more like an operating system running silently in the background, influencing everything without announcing its presence.

When you receive genuine words of appreciation, these validations can get dismissed as the other person just being nice, unable to alter your core belief of unworthiness. The belief exists primarily in your nervous system, not your logical mind, which is why reasoning with yourself rarely helps. You can’t estimate how much you would need to achieve or how many affirmations it would take to finally feel secure in your worth.

This relentless sense of ‘not enough’ is not just personal but reinforced by cultural narratives that equate worth with productivity, self-sacrifice, and external validation. Messages from family, media, and institutions can make it seem as though our right to exist is contingent on what we contribute, further embedding this belief beneath conscious awareness.

As people age and their spheres of influence naturally shift or narrow—retirement from a profession, children growing independent, physical limitations increasing—this sense of worthlessness can escalate into an existential crisis. They feel they’ve failed to earn their right to occupy space on this planet, as though existence itself were a privilege that must be continually justified through service, achievement, or impact.

The Wider Context of Invalidation

This personal wound exists within societal structures that reinforce it. Many who feel this profound worthlessness are responding to very real systems of invalidation:

• Survivors of narcissistic abuse whose reality was systematically denied
• Marginalized groups whose histories, experiences, and pain are routinely dismissed
• LGBTQIA+ and gender non-conforming people whose identities are questioned or rejected
• Immigrants facing dehumanizing rhetoric, policies, and the constant threat of deportation
• Patients with invisible or contested illnesses who face medical gaslighting
• Neurodivergent individuals whose perceptions and needs are invalidated
• Whistleblowers and truth-tellers who face institutional silencing
• Elderly people whose wisdom and contributions are increasingly overlooked
• Children whose emotions are dismissed as manipulation or overreaction

In each case, people receive the message that their existence, their suffering, their perspectives simply don’t matter enough to deserve acknowledgement or response. For those holding multiple marginalized identities—like being a disabled survivor of color—these messages compound. Systems of oppression conspire to amplify worthlessness, making healing both more urgent and more complex. When these messages compound over time, the toll on mind, body, and spirit becomes inevitable.

The Compounding Weight of Intersectionality

For those holding multiple marginalized identities—such as being a disabled survivor of color or a queer immigrant—messages of worthlessness are amplified by overlapping systems of oppression. For example, Black women often face the “strong Black woman” stereotype, which equates worth with relentless self-sacrifice, while neurodivergent individuals may mask their needs to avoid being labeled “difficult.” These layers create unique barriers to healing, requiring approaches that honor both personal trauma and systemic erasure. These systemic intersections often exacerbate the trauma types we’ll explore next.

The Impact of Different Types of Trauma

The wound of worthlessness can be deepened by various forms of trauma that operate at different levels:

Systemic Trauma: When entire communities or identity groups face discrimination, marginalization, or violence, the message that “you don’t matter” becomes institutionalized. This creates a burden that goes beyond individual healing, requiring collective recognition and systemic change.

Intergenerational Trauma: The feelings of worthlessness can be passed down through families, with parents who never healed their own wounds unconsciously transmitting these beliefs to their children through behaviors, attitudes, and unspoken family rules.

Developmental Trauma: Occurring during critical periods of brain development, this form of trauma shapes how the nervous system responds to stress and connection, often creating deep patterns of shame and self-doubt that feel wired into one’s very being.

Cultural Trauma: When dominant narratives consistently devalue certain ways of being, thinking, or existing, people can internalize these messages as truth about their fundamental worth.

Each of these trauma types requires specific healing approaches that acknowledge both the individual pain and the larger contexts in which that pain exists.

Internalized Ableism: A Special Form of Worthlessness

For neurodivergent individuals, people living with disabilities, and those with chronic illness, internalized worthlessness often takes the specific form of internalized ableism. In a society that equates productivity with value and independence with dignity, those who need accommodations or whose bodies or minds work differently receive constant messages that they are “less than.”

This can manifest as:

• Feeling like a burden when asking for needed accommodations
• Pushing through pain or exhaustion to appear “normal”
• Hiding aspects of neurodivergence to fit in, even at great personal cost
• Measuring self-worth by ability to function according to neurotypical or able-bodied standards
• Constant apologizing for needs related to disability or neurodivergence

Healing from internalized ableism involves recognizing that human value does not depend on productivity, independence, or conformity to neurotypical standards. It requires finding communities that celebrate neurodiversity and disability justice, where different ways of being in the world are recognized not as deficits but as valuable forms of human diversity.

The Just World Fallacy and Cosmic Unfairness

Many who struggle with internalized worthlessness are, at heart, idealists. They believe deeply in justice, compassion, and the possibility of a better world. They are the ones who feel actual pain when witnessing cruelty or indifference. Their sensitivity—often pathologized as weakness—is actually a form of moral courage and empathic awareness.

When these sensitive souls repeatedly witness:

• Corrupt individuals rising to power while ethical ones are marginalized
• Wealth accumulated through exploitation rather than contribution
• Vulnerable populations abandoned by systems meant to protect them
• Truth distorted while lies are amplified
• The natural world desecrated for temporary profit

…something breaks inside. They feel like a tiny speck trying to resist a tornado of corruption and cruelty, powerless against forces that seem to reward the very qualities they’ve refused to embody: selfishness, manipulation, callousness, greed.

The psychic burden of maintaining hope in such circumstances becomes overwhelming. The gap between what should be and what actually is grows too vast to bridge, and with it comes profound disillusionment about one’s capacity to matter in such a world.

Few experiences cut as deeply as pouring everything you have – your time, energy, heart, voice, resources, and courage – into fighting for justice or positive change, only to watch the forces of corruption, indifference, or cruelty prevail anyway. The environmental activist who watches corporations continue to pollute despite years of advocacy. The family member who tries everything to help a loved one escape addiction only to attend their funeral. The whistleblower who sacrifices their career to expose wrongdoing, only to see perpetrators promoted while victims remain silenced.

The unique agony of these experiences lies in having to continue living in the reality you fought so hard to change. You must still breathe the polluted air, still pass the house where your loved one used to live, still read industry publications praising those you know have caused harm. Each day becomes a reminder of your defeat, your smallness against systems that seem designed to crush the compassionate and reward the callous.

After several such defeats, a bone-weary exhaustion sets in – not just physical tiredness, but a depletion that reaches into your soul. You begin to wonder if the problem isn’t the injustice itself, but your naïve belief that your efforts could ever make a difference against it. And that wondering hurts more than any external defeat ever could.

Many who experience this deep wounding come to see their own empathy and moral sensitivity as liabilities rather than strengths. They may wish they could stop caring so deeply, stop feeling the pain of others, stop being moved to action by injustice. This too becomes evidence for the belief that something is wrong with them – that they were built incorrectly for this harsh world, too tender to survive in it without constant wounds.

The Toll of Worthlessness

When the belief that you don’t matter takes root, it exacts a devastating toll across every dimension of your being:

Mental and Emotional Impact

The mind becomes a battlefield where what you know clashes with what you feel. You might understand in your head that all people have value, but your heart refuses to include you in that category. This painful split creates a constant inner tension that wears you down day after day.

You might find yourself living in constant worry, always on high alert, thinking “If I stop proving my worth even for a moment, I’ll be abandoned.” Depression can settle in like a heavy fog, bringing thoughts like “Why even try if nothing I do matters?” When you make a mistake, shame can wash over you for days, far beyond what the situation calls for.

Many describe the crushing experience of “emotional flashbacks” – where a small setback today suddenly throws you back into the overwhelming feelings of being worthless that you experienced as a child. The voice in your head becomes so harsh, so familiar, that you mistake it for the truth rather than recognizing it as echoes from the past.

For some, this struggle becomes so unbearable that they lose the will to continue. The thought takes root: “If I don’t matter, why go on?” This isn’t simple sadness, but a soul-deep exhaustion from fighting to feel valuable in a world that seems to confirm at every turn that you aren’t. This despair can lead to a dangerous defeat – not just on goals or dreams, but on life itself.

Physical and Somatic Manifestations

The body keeps the score of this internal battle:

• Chronic tension, particularly in the shoulders, jaw, and stomach
• Disrupted sleep patterns, often with difficulty falling asleep
• Digestive issues triggered by chronic stress
• A sensation of heaviness in the chest or throat
• Exhaustion that doesn’t resolve with rest
• A physical collapse response when facing situations that trigger feelings of ineffectiveness

The Body’s Role in the Experience of Worthlessness

The belief that you don’t matter isn’t just a mental concept—it lives in your body as well. Research in trauma studies has increasingly revealed how our bodies store emotional wounds, particularly those formed in early childhood before we had language to process them.

When children experience consistent invalidation, rejection, or neglect, their developing nervous systems adapt to this reality. The constant state of feeling unsafe, unwelcome, or burdensome creates patterns of physiological stress that become encoded in the body. Over time, these patterns become your baseline—so familiar that you don’t even recognize them as abnormal.

This embodied experience of worthlessness often manifests as:

• Chronic muscle tension, particularly in areas associated with protection (shoulders, jaw, abdomen)
• A collapsed posture that literally takes up less space in the world
• Shallow breathing that never quite fills the lungs completely
• Disrupted interoception (the ability to sense and interpret internal bodily signals)
• A persistent feeling of being “on guard” even in safe environments
• Disconnection from bodily sensations as a survival mechanism

What makes this particularly challenging is that many people with internalized worthlessness have diminished interoception—the ability to accurately sense what’s happening inside their bodies. You might not notice hunger until you’re lightheaded, fail to register fatigue until you collapse, or be unable to identify emotions until they’re overwhelming. This disconnect happens because sensing your needs requires believing those needs matter—something your nervous system may have learned wasn’t true.

Healing worthlessness therefore cannot be purely cognitive. You can intellectually understand that you matter and still have a body that behaves as if you don’t. True transformation requires working with the nervous system directly, helping it establish new patterns of safety, belonging, and inherent value. Practices like trauma-sensitive yoga, somatic experiencing, or even simple body awareness exercises can gradually help reconnect you with the bodily sensations that have been muted or misinterpreted for so long.

Pay particular attention to moments when setting a boundary or asking for something you need creates intense physical reactions—racing heart, churning stomach, dizziness, or the urge to flee. These are not signs that you’re doing something wrong; they’re your body’s outdated alarm system responding to perceived danger based on early experiences. With patience and practice, you can teach your nervous system that standing in your worth is safe, that your needs are valid, and that your body deserves to exist fully in the world.

No one is funding my writing. If this saves you a therapy appointment, feel free to buy me lunch: Venmo @ellentift

Spiritual Impact

Perhaps most profound is the spiritual crisis this belief creates:

• A sense of cosmic abandonment or rejection
• Difficulty receiving love or care from the divine
• Questions about whether existence itself has meaning
• Disconnection from one’s sense of purpose or calling
• The painful sense of being invisible to whatever forces govern the universe

Beyond Achievement: The Many Faces of “Not Mattering”

While feelings of worthlessness often attach to achievement and impact, they manifest in many other domains:

Relational Worthlessness

Many experience the belief that they don’t deserve love or meaningful connection:

• The person who automatically moves aside when someone walks toward them on the sidewalk
• The partner who can’t express needs for fear of being “too much”
• The friend who never initiates gatherings, certain no one truly wants their company
• The family member who sits silently at holiday gatherings, feeling invisible
• The person who accepts mistreatment, believing they deserve nothing better

Bodily Worthlessness

Some experience profound alienation from their physical existence:

• Difficulty taking up physical space or speaking up
• Neglecting basic self-care, feeling their body doesn’t deserve attention
• Apologizing for basic needs like hunger, rest, or medical care
• Pushing through illness or pain to avoid being “a burden”
• Feeling fundamentally uncomfortable in their own skin

Existential Worthlessness

Others experience a cosmic sense of being superfluous to the universe:

• The belief that their death would go largely unnoticed
• Feeling like an “extra” in the story of life rather than a protagonist
• A persistent sense that no one cares about their perspective
• The sense that their suffering or joy is insignificant to the larger world
• Feeling fundamentally alone even in crowded rooms

Moral Perfectionism: The Exception Rule

Those who struggle with worthlessness often live by a profound double standard — what we might call “the exception rule.” This manifests as the unshakable belief that:

“It’s fine for others to be human, make mistakes, and have limitations—but I must do better.”

This isn’t ordinary perfectionism aimed at achievement, but a moral imperative about one’s basic right to exist. The person operating under this belief system might:

• Easily extend compassion to others while mercilessly judging themselves
• Set impossible standards for themselves that, when inevitably unmet, confirm their unworthiness
• Make elaborate excuses for others’ shortcomings while allowing themselves no margin for error
• Believe they must “earn” what they freely insist others deserve inherently
• Feel fraudulent when receiving care or compassion they freely give to others

This moral perfectionism often operates beneath conscious awareness, becoming so deeply ingrained that it’s perceived as fact rather than a learned belief. It often stems from early experiences where a child’s worth was contingent on meeting impossible standards, carrying responsibilities beyond their years, or compensating for dysfunctional family systems. The child learns that their basic safety depends on extraordinary performance, creating a profound split between what they believe about others’ worth and what they believe about their own.

Read the rest of this article in the first book of Ellen’s series “There’s A Word for That”: https://a.co/d/05GMPCCX

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

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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

Stuck points are rigid, distressing thoughts and beliefs that feel immovable. They often develop as the mind’s attempt to make sense of overwhelming or unresolved trauma. Over time, they can begin to feel like facts, rather than interpretations.

There are, however, ways to better understand, create distance from, and gradually loosen the grip of stuck points. The aim is not forced positivity or denial of pain, but relief through clearer understanding.

Before continuing, it is important to state that nothing here is intended to minimize the scale of your hurt. Trauma pain is real, valid, and deeply personal. Care and sensitivity must remain central. These ideas are offered not as corrections, but as tools.

Stickiness Reflects Hurt

One useful starting point is recognising that the “stickiness” of a stuck point often reflects the magnitude of the hurt that shaped it.

The more severe or enduring the psychological injury, the more rigid the associated belief system may become. This rigidity is not a personal failing; it is the mind’s protective architecture at work.

Viewing stuck points through this lens can provide an aerial perspective. Rather than experiencing the thought as an absolute truth, it becomes possible to see it as an adaptive response to pain. For individuals who respond well to logical framing, this shift alone can create a surprising sense of psychological space.

Hurt Versus Belief

A second critical distinction involves separating two experiences that often become fused:

1. The hurt itself
2. The belief that the hurt can never lessen

Pain and permanence frequently become psychologically entangled. The intensity of distress can generate the convincing impression that relief is impossible.

Recognising that hurt and belief are not the same process is foundational. While pain is an emotional and physiological experience, beliefs are interpretations constructed by the mind. Interpretations, unlike injuries, can be examined.

The belief in permanence can be articulated, observed, questioned, and tested. This does not instantly dissolve distress, but it introduces something vital: variability. Where variability exists, movement becomes possible.

Internal Exemptions

Many trauma survivors unknowingly reinforce stuck points through what might be called exemption thinking.

This often appears as quiet assumptions such as:

• “My pain is different.”
  • “My situation is worse.”
  • “Others may recover, but I cannot.”
  • “No one could understand this.”

These thoughts are rarely defensive in intention. They are protective conclusions drawn from lived experience, yet they function to place suffering outside the reach of change.

When an internal exemption is recognized as a learned construct rather than an objective truth, its authority can begin to soften. Repeated observation and gentle examination weaken the automatic link between distress and inevitability.

The shift may feel modest, but psychologically it represents genuine progress.

Timelines of Stuck Points

Stuck points seldom exist in isolation. They often cluster across a person’s life narrative, for example:

• Mourning for who one could have been (without early life trauma)
  • “Rose-colored” beliefs about life before the trauma
  • Interpretations of the trauma itself
  • A sense of lost or altered time
  • Present-day threat perceptions
  • Future-oriented fears

These timeline-based stuck points can operate simultaneously, producing a compounding effect. Thoughts emerge, trigger distress, fade, and recur in familiar loops.

Few people consciously map these patterns. As a result, the collective impact can feel chaotic and overwhelming.

Timeline mapping introduces structure. When stuck points are externalized and located along a life narrative, they become observable rather than diffuse. This process often produces an initial sense of relief simply through organization.

More importantly, it allows for examination. Patterns, themes, and shared assumptions become visible. Re-framing can then occur at the level of interpretation, rather than emotion.

A Different Relationship With Thoughts

Ultimately, overcoming stuck points is rarely about eliminating thoughts–it is about changing one’s relationship with them.

Stuck points lose power not when they are suppressed, but when they are seen clearly. Observed thoughts become experiences rather than commands. Beliefs become hypotheses rather than certainties.

This is a gradual process. Relief often arrives in increments, rather than breakthroughs. Small moments of cognitive flexibility accumulate into meaningful change.

Progress may look like:

• Noticing a thought without immediately believing it
  • Recognizing an exemption pattern in real time
  • Identifying variability where once there was certainty
  • Experiencing distress without assuming permanence

These shifts can feel subtle, yet they represent profound psychological movement.

Conclusion: Movement Before Relief

One of the most misleading aspects of trauma recovery is the expectation that relief must come before movement.

In reality, movement usually precedes relief.

The early signs of change are often cognitive rather than emotional. A thought feels slightly less absolute. A belief becomes slightly more negotiable. A reaction feels marginally less automatic.

These are not minor developments. They are indicators that psychological flexibility is returning.

Healing rarely involves disproving pain. It involves loosening the conclusions that pain once demanded.

Stuck points are persuasive because they were formed under conditions where rigidity was necessary. Their persistence reflects history, not destiny.

Relief does not emerge from force, argument, or denial. It emerges from repeated moments of recognition, observation, and gentle revision.

Not sudden transformation, but steady, cumulative movement.

And movement, however small it may appear, is never trivial.

Timelines graphic property of the author.

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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Citations: 

1. Stuck Points / Rigid Trauma Beliefs

The article’s description of stuck points directly corresponds with Cognitive Processing Therapy (CPT).

Key Source

Resick, P. A., Monson, C. M., & Chard, K. M. (2017).
Cognitive Processing Therapy for PTSD: A Comprehensive Manual. Guilford Press.

CPT formally defines stuck points as maladaptive beliefs that interfere with recovery, particularly around safety, trust, power/control, esteem, and intimacy.

Supporting Theory

Ehlers, A., & Clark, D. M. (2000).
A cognitive model of posttraumatic stress disorder. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 38(4), 319-345.

This model explains how persistent PTSD symptoms are maintained by negative appraisals of the trauma and its consequences, which is conceptually identical to stuck thinking.

2. “Stickiness Reflects Hurt” / Rigidity as Protection

The idea that rigidity scales with psychological injury is strongly supported by trauma and schema research.

Foundational Work

Janoff-Bulman, R. (1992).
Shattered Assumptions: Towards a New Psychology of Trauma. Free Press.

Trauma disrupts core beliefs about safety, predictability, and self-worth. The mind compensates by forming rigid meaning structures.

Neurocognitive Support

Brewin, C. R. (2001).
A cognitive neuroscience account of posttraumatic stress disorder. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 39(4), 373-393.

Brewin’s dual representation theory explains why trauma memories and beliefs become highly persistent and emotionally charged.

Clinical Framing

Foa, E. B., Hembree, E., & Rothbaum, B. O. (2007).
Prolonged Exposure Therapy for PTSD. Oxford University Press.

Emphasises that avoidance and cognitive rigidity function as learned survival responses, not pathology.

3. Hurt vs Belief / Pain vs Interpretation

This distinction maps onto core cognitive therapy principles.

Classic Cognitive Model

Beck, A. T. (1976).
Cognitive Therapy and the Emotional Disorders. International Universities Press.

Beck differentiates between automatic thoughts and emotional reactions, showing beliefs are modifiable even when distress is intense.

PTSD-Specific Support

Ehlers & Clark (2000)

Persistent distress is maintained not by the trauma itself, but by appraisals and interpretations.

4. Exemption Thinking / “Mine Is Different”

This concept aligns strongly with cognitive distortions, schema maintenance, and cognitive fusion (ACT).

ACT / Cognitive Fusion

Hayes, S. C., Strosahl, K., & Wilson, K. G. (1999).
Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. Guilford Press.

Cognitive fusion describes the process where thoughts are experienced as literal truths rather than mental events.

Schema Rigidity

Young, J. E., Klosko, J. S., & Weishaar, M. E. (2003).
Schema Therapy: A Practitioner’s Guide. Guilford Press.

Schemas persist through self-reinforcing interpretations such as perceived uniqueness of suffering.

PTSD Belief Maintenance

Resick et al. (2017)

CPT explicitly identifies beliefs like:

• “I am permanently damaged”
  • “No one can understand”
  • “The world is completely unsafe”

5. Rumination / Thought Loops

The discussion of looping thoughts is strongly supported.

Major Authority

Nolen-Hoeksema, S. (2000).
The role of rumination in depressive and anxiety disorders. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 109(3), 504-511.

Rumination intensifies and prolongs distress by repeatedly activating negative belief networks.

PTSD-Specific Research

Michael, T., Halligan, S. L., Clark, D. M., & Ehlers, A. (2007).
Rumination in PTSD. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 45(11), 2683-2692.

Rumination maintains PTSD symptoms by reinforcing maladaptive appraisals.

6. Timeline Effects / Compounding Stuck Points

This aligns with narrative identity and trauma memory integration research.

Narrative & Trauma Memory

Schauer, M., Neuner, F., & Elbert, T. (2011).
Narrative Exposure Therapy. Hogrefe Publishing.

NET explicitly uses lifeline / timeline mapping to organise traumatic memories and beliefs.

Autobiographical Memory Disruption

Rubin, D. C., Berntsen, D., & Bohni, M. K. (2008).
A memory-based model of PTSD. Psychological Review, 115(4), 985-1011.

PTSD involves disturbances in autobiographical memory coherence across time.

Identity & Trauma

McAdams, D. P. (2001).
The psychology of life stories. Review of General Psychology, 5(2), 100-122.

Trauma reorganises identity narratives and future projections.

7. Reframing & Cognitive Flexibility

The emphasis on gradual loosening is very consistent with modern therapy models.

Cognitive Change Mechanisms

Resick et al. (2017)

Recovery occurs through modification of maladaptive beliefs, not emotional suppression.

Psychological Flexibility (ACT)

Hayes, S. C., Luoma, J. B., Bond, F. W., Masuda, A., & Lillis, J. (2006).
Acceptance and Commitment Therapy: Model, processes and outcomes. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 44(1), 1-25.

Psychological flexibility predicts improved outcomes across disorders.

Neuroplasticity & Therapy

Kolb, B., & Gibb, R. (2011).
Brain plasticity and behaviour. Annual Review of Psychology, 62, 113-136.

Therapeutic change corresponds with measurable neural adaptation.

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

Our world is full of negativity right now. It can be hard to tune everything out that’s going on in the news and in our cities.

Did you know how you think can affect your health and outlook in life? It sounds weird, and I was skeptical too before I thought about my own life.

Positive thinking breeds a positive outlook on life. Many of us naturally default to negative thoughts. We can spend days feeling down and moody about things. It’s not good for our health to be negative all the time.

What if I told you that it doesn’t have to be that way? That if you changed the way you think by only a little bit, you can feel better.

Positive thinking is not magic, but it works — and I’m living proof.

I spent years feeling invisible and hurt after living through trauma. Nobody appeared to see the true me. I fought to rewire my brain and ignore comments from people that wanted to put me down. Even though life was not going my way at the time, I forced myself to think positively instead of focusing on the negative situation I was in.

Little by little, I started clawing back my own sanity and myself.

Here are my proven ways to tackle negativity through positive thinking

1. Positive glimmers. No matter how small they might be, look for them, even in negative situations. If a friend cancels on you, think about the time you gain to focus on other things. Your friend will still be there for another day.
2. Gratitude. Focus on the good things that are happening in your life and be grateful for them — no matter how small. At one point in my life, I was feeling thankful for dry clothes because I had spent many days being soaking wet in the rain.
3. Choose who you spend your time with. Surround yourself with people who are happy and energize you. There is nothing wrong with spending time with friends who are down on their luck, but if they are the only people you see, then you will also be zapped of energy and gloom. Seek out those friends who nurture you and give you something in return. That’s where you will find positivity.
4. Humor. Allow yourself to laugh every now and then.
5. Positive self-talk. Did you know that how you talk to yourself can have a big impact on how you feel and act? It’s true that if you keep telling yourself that you are “worthless” and “stupid,” then you will start to feel that way. How about changing the narrative to “I’m not good at this yet,” or “I think I need more practice.” I use this self-talk often with my own kids and those who I teach when they tell me “They can’t do it.” I always challenge this by “How about you say, you can’t do it yet, but you will.”
6. Identify where you tend to think negative thoughts. If you can’t think of one, ask a friend or your partner. I’m sure they can help you with this. Once you know where you are negative about yourself, you can tackle it. Challenge why you feel that way. What is the proof?
7. Journaling. Write your thoughts down, especially those negative thoughts. If you have the same negative thoughts, you will soon notice a pattern, and you can do something about it. Positive thoughts are nice to note down and if you are feeling down, a nice read to take that “frown upside down.” (Can you tell I teach first graders?)
8. Wake up each morning with a positive thought or act. I do this often, and it can be as simple as telling yourself that, “your day will be great.” I usually take this a step further, and I compliment those around me. “I like your shirt,” or “what a nice color.” Giving somebody a compliment doesn’t just make other people feel good, but I enjoy it too.

When you start focusing on a more positive outlook in your life, you will start to notice subtle changes.

You will feel better within yourself and in how you act around other people.

You will notice that your energy levels are higher than before and you can focus better on things.

Your mental and physical well-being improve, and you have less sick days and headaches.

You recover quicker from colds and injuries.

You cope better in stressful situations.

You notice quicker when your body is acting up and you fix it before it turns into something worse like depression.

You live longer.

Positive thinking isn’t a magic cure for everything, but what it will do is help you to navigate problems with better control.

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

If you like reading my posts, then please follow me.

For more about me: www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

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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

Here are a few links to my top articles:

• Looking for a Change?
• How To Explain Complex PTSD To Loved Ones
• A Search for Identity
• Dealing With Flashbacks
• The Knock on the Door that Changed My World
• The Goodbye I Never Said Out Loud

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is a lasting impact of early approval‐seeking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo Credit: Unsplash

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

Social skills help us to connect, communicate, and build stronger relationships with people.

Face-to-face communication without smartphones happens less often than it should, as technology slowly takes over our social lives.

People rely on screens for daily life.

How many ways can you think of where you use your phone instead of having a real conversation?

I think you’d be surprised at how much you use a screen–but hey, it’s 2026, and everyone is using technology these days.

You check the weather and the news first thing in the morning. Fifty years ago, people relied on the local newspaper when it eventually came to the door.

Life was much simpler (but slower) back then. People communicated to get their needs met.

Nowadays, we can order anything and have it delivered to our front door.

Want a new kitchen? Sure, you can buy everything online, provided you have all the measurements.

Fancy a takeout for dinner? No problem. Go online, pick your favorite food, and it will be delivered to your door.

I love my cell phone and, yes, I carry one wherever I go — including to work. Teachers communicate both in and outside class to keep students safe. It’s a great tool to safeguard vulnerable students who have cut class.

I’m sure you use your cell at work, too.

Talking to each other in real conversations where we voice our feelings is a skill that many ignore. In a world where everything is available at the push of a few keys, people give up far too easily.

A trauma survivor can often get lost in the system between phones and people. Sometimes it’s impossible to communicate how we feel about something, and we push it away.

Some conversations are not fit for the cell phone. They need a human touch.

Trauma survivors don’t always know how to feel, but we sure as hell (pardon my language) feel it in our bodies because our bodies absorb everything (whether we like it or not).

These “non-feelings” manifest as headaches, stomach upsets, tension, etc. The problem is that those feelings that are pushed aside will never completely go away, and they have a way of showing up when we least expect them to.

I don’t know about you, but I want to be seen for who I am. The real me. I don’t want to pretend that I’m fine when I’m not. I’m sick of pretending and staying silent.

I’m a trauma survivor, and I’m not ashamed to say it out loud. My experiences with trauma can help so many who are struggling every single day.

Do you feel the same? Do you want to be seen and heard, as well?

If you want to be seen for who you are, you need to speak up. You need to tell people how you feel — every day.

If you ignore the need to communicate how you feel, those feelings can become cooped up inside your body just like a pressure cooker uses pressure from steam to cook food.

Eventually, you need to let that “pressure” out before you burst. Otherwise, you might experience an embarrassing “oil spill” of emotions wherever you happen to be. Trust me, it always happens in the worst possible place.

Sometimes, you just need to let the “pressure out.”

I’m a trauma survivor, and even after years of therapy, I still have days when I am triggered.

Trauma triggers are everywhere, and can pop up when we least expect. They can cause havoc in our lives.

When it happens, the last thing we want to do is to talk about it. I know, this is messed up, right?

Keeping complicated feelings inside is the worst thing we can do. As a trauma survivor, I learned to keep my business to myself because I believed that no one would listen.

That is the way I saw my world as a child, and I know many survivors feel the same. It is extremely hard to get out of that learned behavior.

Everything is almost certainly NOT FINE all the time, and people should hear it. Our voices do matter.

You matter.

But if you don’t speak about how you really feel, people will never know or understand you.

In general, we are desensitized by triggering events because they happen all the time. The news is riddled with bad events, people having arguments, and general conflict.

This has become normal.

It should not be normal that our wonderful world has so much conflict, causing billions of people to live in fear and anxiety.

Yet, here we are, and survivors often get lost in the maelstrom as we move through life.

You cannot change the whole world, but you can change your immediate world–and the people you see every day–by speaking up.

All of the “every day” stressors that cause us to be triggered are like little darts being shot from all directions.

One or two darts don’t hurt that much, but more than that, and we feel definite pain. Right?

How do we break the habit of a lifetime and tell people how we feel? Good question.

Well, it is not easy to do, and my advice is to practice. Use the bathroom mirror once you have calmed down from your trigger, and say to yourself:

“I matter, and my voice matters. This is how I feel…. ‘I’m not okay.’”

Practice what you are going to say to the person who triggered you. Share something small about yourself that you might not be certain that you want them to know. I think you will be surprised at the reaction you get. Most people are clueless about how trauma affects people.

I will give you an example of how I shared something about myself that I didn’t feel comfortable sharing. Because now I’m happy that I did.

A few years ago, I worked with two colleagues who were always bickering about stuff, and sometimes, they would use colorful language. The way they spoke to each other upset me, so I told them.

“I really don’t like the way you speak to XXXX; it makes me uncomfortable.”

Both had no idea how I felt, and they made peace (at least when I was around).

One weekend, I had to speak up and tell another mom that I did not like the words she used to speak to her son at football practice, because it was upsetting to my kids and me. It made that mom think about her words, and she is now much kinder (and calmer) with her son and my ears.

A third example is when I tell people that “I am allergic to cream.” This is not exactly true, but as close to the truth as I am comfortable sharing.

I cannot eat cream without feeling physically sick to my stomach because of what happened to me as a child. I do not share those details because they are too personal. By sharing that I’m allergic to cream, people will understand that I react to it in some way–which is true.

Speaking up and telling others how you feel about something can be a game-changer.

Communication is vital for our emotional well-being. It’s not just about talking but also listening–having empathy for someone. It also includes body language.

And while we should not remain silent, it’s also important not to overshare too soon. We want to build on our conversations and grow our rapport with others step by step. We test the waters so that we know that the person we trust with a trauma trigger is going to be supportive.

Of course, how we share is as important as actually sharing. We want to stay calm during problems, whenever we encounter them. It’s much easier to solve conflicts when we are relaxed and clear-headed.

If you need a moment before you speak, then take it.

You can learn to communicate your feelings. Start small, practice and build trust.

I believe in you.

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

If you like reading my posts, then please follow me.

For more about me: www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

Support your fellow writer:

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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

She hears the voice of the five-year-old shamed for being overly rambunctious, the 12-year-old who struggles to make friends, the 16-year-old who actively fantasizes about death, the 22-year-old who has no idea what to “do with her life,” the 30-year-old who is too depressed to get out of bed, the 35-year-old mother who can’t seem to find joy in every moment of motherhood, the 41-year-old who erupts into tears during a dental procedure, and on and on. They all chime in.

This person in the mirror itemizes every mistake that she has made throughout her life. She criticizes her inability to form and maintain deep relationships. She nitpicks her physical “shortcomings” and catalogs all the ways she is simultaneously “too much” and “not enough.” Unable to answer the question, she carries these shackles of self-deprecation as “proof” of all that is “wrong” with her.

A part of me, however, stands beside her and sees a survivor. I see that there is nothing wrong with her, but rather the situations she faced. I see a five-year-old child who was just being a kid, her noise and frenetic energy not compatible with my young mother’s exhausted and overwhelmed nervous system. I see a 12-year-old entering my third school in as many years, not seeing a point in making new friends. Besides, I was pretty sure my “peers” couldn’t relate to a parent almost intentionally killing them during the first week of school. I see a 16-year-old hunted by a predator in my own home.

As if that wasn’t enough, that year I felt survivor’s guilt for being able to walk while my then-boyfriend lay hospitalized after becoming paralyzed in a car accident months earlier. I see a 22-year-old who, against all odds, graduated from college but didn’t feel “worthy” of a “real job” or healthy relationships. How could I possibly have known what to do, how to be, in those “normal” contexts?

I tried to be “normal,” but couldn’t define it, and only now do I understand that it is because “normal” doesn’t exist.

I didn’t understand it then, though…I only saw someone who felt “wrong.” It would be another decade before I saw beyond the flaws. Within that old lens, I see a 30-year-old who still didn’t know “what to do with my life.” My shame around this only grew under the unforgiving lens of my mother’s criticism, which she unloaded all at once in an argument. Under the influence of a substantial amount of alcohol, she held nothing back in her assessment of all the ways I’d failed.

Apparently, I have crappy taste in men, and my recent attempt to prove my worth by earning another degree had backfired. Mom berated me for supposedly thinking I’m “smarter than everyone.” I didn’t think that, but her words momentarily stole my will to participate in life, which, according to her, I was failing anyway.

A half-decade later, I see an overwhelmed 35-year-old mother of a one-year-old. They say it takes a village to raise a child; unfortunately, that didn’t apply to me in my mid-thirties because help didn’t exist in places where one might expect it, and I simply didn’t know how to ask for it. That word wasn’t in my vocabulary. Little did I know, I would have one more child, and I was only in the dawn of the exhaustion that is now second-nature. It would be another seven years before I had my first and only 48-hour break from motherhood.

The overwhelm and fatigue, along with an overpowering love for my children, is what finally encouraged me to make some changes in my early 40s. Those changes came with some stark realizations and interesting experiences, like having a breakdown in a dental chair at 41 years old when I couldn’t hold my crap together for another second. As my startled dentist tried to soothe his suddenly sobbing middle-aged patient, I asked myself the same question I always ask myself: “What is wrong with you?” (Sometimes I use other words like “Why am I like this?” and “Would the world be better off without me in it?”)

The problem is, all this time, no matter how I phrased it, I’ve been asking myself the wrong question. There’s nothing “wrong” with me. There’s plenty wrong with the circumstances I’ve faced. The real question should have been, “What is happening to and around you to make you feel this way?”

That question, however, was not written into the original script. Five-year-olds who grow up in healthy, supportive environments don’t ask themselves, “What’s wrong with me?” Ironically, those words often first come from the person or people responsible for providing a supportive and secure environment for that child. Having failed to do that and instead of taking responsibility for their shortcomings, these people sometimes direct the blame to the child.

Over time, their voice(s) mingle with ours, and the question that should have never been asked imprisons us in insecurity. We find ways to justify the question. We stockpile our “failures” and can give you a grand tour of places we went wrong. It’s easy to showcase our faults.

What happens if we turn that logic outward? Think about someone you love. Imagine them internalizing the message that something is wrong with them. How do you feel? This piece, inspired by someone dear to me, was born in my anger at her being held prisoner by the very words that are as present in my head as stars in a night sky. Her self-defacing mantra was also planted by a parent and then reinforced by her own inner voices for decades. I look at her and see bravery, humility, and strength. I don’t see anything “wrong” with her. Instead, my focus narrowed to a person I’ve never met. A part of me fought the urge to deliver an unsolicited, unfiltered piece of my mind to her mother.

How dare she say something so awful to this person who brings so much light to the world? I wrestled with how I could remove the sting of these words from my friend’s heart. How could I possibly convince her that there is nothing wrong with her? How could she believe something so ridiculous about herself?

And then…I silently acknowledged that I’d swallowed the same poison. It was not until I heard those words within the context of a loved one’s internal narrative that I so blatantly questioned them in myself. I, too, had been asked that question by my mother. I, too, believed that since she asked the question (repeatedly), there must surely be something “wrong” with me. I have spent much of my life searching for the answer to that question. I’ve identified a slew of potential candidates, but nothing has felt solidly “right.”

Well…at 43 years old, I finally found the answer to the question “What is wrong with you?” Ready for it? It’s a real nail-biter.

Here it is: not a damn thing. Do I have flaws? Areas for improvement? Weaknesses? Yes, of course. We all do. But there’s nothing “wrong” with me. It is “wrong” that my mother ever demanded an answer to such a ridiculous question. It would be easy to get angry at her the way I did at my friend’s mother. In thinking about it, however, I suspect that they, too, have stood in front of mirrors and asked: “What’s wrong with you?”

Likely, long ago, someone carelessly hurled that very question at them. I think asking that question of another person is a sign of something unbalanced or emotional malnourishment within. I feel compassion for anyone who has asked this question of another, for I know it is born in insecurity.

That’s not to say that I’m not mad. This ridiculous question made my blood boil when my friend acknowledged it as an internal mantra. When I internally admitted that I shared this mantra, I decided I’m not buying it anymore. The fact that these words live within me only renews my commitment to healing. I will not ask this question of my children, and I will do my very best to ensure that their environment does not create inner chaos.

Furthermore, though this question can sweep in at the drop of a hat for me, I will be conscious of its roots. I will rephrase the question. Instead of demanding to know what is wrong with me, I will ask myself what was wrong with the circumstances that created these feelings.

So many of us have been asked this question that shouldn’t be asked. Even worse, it has often been asked by the people we looked to for love. Instead of searching for answers we will never find, let’s reframe the question and consider who asked it and why. When we consider the source and motivation for this question and reword it to explore what was wrong with what we faced, we infuse it with what was missing all along: compassion. There was never anything wrong with us.

We simply did our best to handle things we shouldn’t have had to experience. It’s time to stop trying to answer the question that should not have been asked. So, if you, too, have been asked this ridiculous question, please remind yourself that you finally found the answer: not a damn thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I had a weird tension in me about it

Like other techniques, we also employ the idea of a “safe place,” where he helps me anchor into safety before we do any deep work or regressions. I have always used the same safe place since I have been seeing Dr. Gabe: the beach in front of my grandma’s house, now our second home. As we began chatting at the beginning of the last session, I realized I was feeling a little hesitant about “going to my safe place” because, in reality, this was where I had broken my wrist a few weeks prior, and I had a weird tension in me about it.

So, all the things we normally do and go through to work through deep-seated trauma from the past, we went through the same process on the trauma of breaking my wrist. That was our starting point. First, I re-experienced the crack of my bone that I heard and the onset of the fear I experienced. I was scared and alone and had no way back up the small cliff I had descended to the rocky shore. (I am quite good in emergencies, and this was no exception. I simply trespassed onto a neighbor’s property, used their private staircase, and thanked them later for using it.  They have offered for me to use their stairs down any time I need to since I won’t be going down or up on the climbing rope for a while at least. It’s when the emergency subsides, and the adrenaline rush crashes that emotion tends to overwhelm me, and I cry and shake and get embarrassed at my reactions.)

As we followed my subconscious, it led me to the scene in my home when the ambulance arrived.  Fire truck, too. There must have been 15 people all congregating around me. People were sticking my veins for an IV and missing. Pandemonium. My parents happened to have just arrived at our home because we were all going out to dinner. When I called my husband, John, and told him I had broken my wrist and was coming up the neighbor’s stairs, my parents were already there. I was still somewhat in shock, and the pain was amplifying exponentially from moment to moment. I just needed a minute to process everything. I wanted to see my husband, hug him, and figure out the best thing to do. I was still evaluating how badly I had been hurt. My dad took over and called the ambulance without my knowledge or approval; he just did it. Ultimately, I am glad I went to the ER that night and that I did so in an ambulance, where they were able to administer pain medication during the hour-long drive to the hospital. But all of a sudden, I saw the pattern clearly of how my father always made “executive decisions,” as he sometimes called them, and put situations in front of me where he had already made a decision and effectively removed the element of my own choice from me. Over and over from a young age until it seemed normal.

But I have a voice today. Sometimes, I still have to speak up forcefully to get my dad back in check, and I do know he means well and cares – and I am truly grateful for that. But it was ultimately nice to recognize how pervasive that pattern had been in my life and how and why it has taken me a lifetime to speak up for myself and make my own best decisions. It still amazes me how we think that trauma is about one particular thing, and then we do the work and find all these other things mixed in and attached in ways we hadn’t ever even realized before.

And my safe place is safe again.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

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

Curious visitors come by the thousands to witness with their own eyes what a 5.5-ton golden miracle looks like, pondering the weight of what it means in their own lives

The story of the Golden Buddha is thought to have begun around the 13th century CE, during the Sukhothai period of Thai history, an era during which experts believe the statue was first built. They also theorize that under the Ayutthaya empire, when faced with a Burmese invasion in 1767, monks covered the statue with stucco and colored glass, thus disguising it as an ordinary statue made of cheap materials to save it from destruction. The Burmese-Siamese War led to the fall of the Ayutthaya empire and the statue was removed from its original location. Fast forward centuries later when in 1955, during one of its relocations, the statue was accidentally dropped, causing some plaster to chip off, revealing a glimmering sliver of its golden core. Upon closer inspection, it was discovered that the statue was made out of solid gold! 

The true story of the Golden Buddha reminds us of the hidden treasures that lie beneath the protective boundaries we’ve had to create to ensure our survival. Complex trauma survivors naturally self-protect in many ways, and as we grow and walk along our healing path, at our own pace, our self-protective tools evolve along with us, highlighting our resourcefulness, our grit, and our bravery. Our resilience turns to growth, our growth into more healing. Eventually, our survival gives way to thrive, and as we pass it on and pass on our legacy.

As survivors of complex trauma, we have the potential to transform our pain into sources of wisdom, compassion, and growth, and in doing so, to emerge stronger and more resilient than ever before. We can choose to learn what true peace and freedom feel like within our bodies and hearts, often for the first time. No one wishes trauma upon themselves, any more than we would a cancer or an addiction, which some of us also have. What happened to us and what we did as a result cannot ever be undone, yet healing work can bring us to a place within ourselves where we finally become able to recover and thrive, from the inside out, and that is worth its weight in gold many times over. 

As a Certified Childhood & Sexual Trauma Recovery Coach™ and Clinical EFT Practitioner, I often use the power of metaphors as a healing tool, like my previous post about domino effect science. Along with symbols, images, and somatic responses, metaphors are – unlike words – our subconscious’s native language, a missing link to trauma recovery, post-traumatic growth, and sustainable healing. At its core, the story of the Golden Buddha is a tale of survival, resilience, justice, and overcoming all odds. It is also a tale of patience, nurture, and longevity. A metaphor about never giving up, no matter what, in the face of extreme adversity.

What does the story of the Golden Buddha mean to you?

Hidden Treasure

Just as the Golden Buddha was covered in layers of plaster and mud for 200 years – almost 2,500 years after the death of Siddhartha Gautama – complex trauma survivors have had to develop defense and coping mechanisms to bury unbearable pain and protect themselves from further harm and reinjury, sometimes for most of their lives. These layers can manifest as dissociation or chronic avoidance of emotions or memories associated with our traumas.

Overcoming

Despite its disguise, the Golden Buddha remained intact and authentic at its core for centuries, until it was safe for it to become exposed to the light and shine again. Complex trauma survivors possess incredible resilience, inner strength, and resources, which we can learn to tap into and draw upon on our healing journey to overcome adversity and reclaim our lives.

Self-Discovery

Similarly to how the chipping away of the plaster revealed the glorious gold underneath, the journey to recovery from complex trauma involves gradually uncovering and rediscovering one’s authentic Self. This process may involve trauma recovery coaching or therapy, self-reflection, self-expression, connection, and the courage to feel painful emotions that have been buried for years, even decades.

Transformation

As survivors of complex trauma, we have the potential to transform our pain into sources of wisdom, compassion, and growth, and in doing so, to emerge stronger and more resilient than ever before. We can choose to learn what true peace and freedom feel like within our bodies and hearts, often for the first time. No one wishes trauma upon themselves, any more than we would a cancer or an addiction, which some of us also have. What happened to us and what we did as a result cannot ever be undone, yet healing work can bring us to a place within ourselves where we finally become able to recover and thrive, from the inside out, and that is worth its weight in gold many times over. 

Beneath the layers of pain and suffering lies our essence, our authentic Self: Resilient, precious, untouched, worthy of unconditional love.

It is likely that I will never get to Wat Traimit in my lifetime. In fact, many of us never will either. Still, the Golden Buddha story offers us real hope and inspiration as we heal from complex trauma, reminding us all that beneath the layers of pain and suffering lies our essence, our authentic Self: resilient, precious, untouched, worthy of unconditional love.

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

Life is a series of dominoes—each experience triggering the next, creating a chain reaction that shapes our journey

For those navigating the path of healing from complex trauma, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the weight of past experiences. But within this very sequence lies a profound lesson: the domino effect can be harnessed as a force for resilience and transformation.

Healing from complex trauma is not a linear process; it’s a journey with many twists and turns, setbacks and triumphs. Like a domino setup, it may seem that one fall could cause the collapse of the entire structure. But what if we reframed our perspective? What if, instead of fearing the falling dominoes, we embraced the potential they hold?

The first step in this journey is acknowledging your strengths, no matter how small, because our strengths are the resources we can use to build from. You’ve endured and survived. That resilience is the cornerstone upon which you build your path to healing. Each domino represents a step forward—a trauma recovery coaching session, a moment of self-reflection, a meditation, a prayer, the decision to confront a particular fear, a day, or even just an hour or a minute where you can choose self-care over self-doubt.

Often, we underestimate the power of small actions. Imagine each action as a domino, poised to tip the next one. A kind word to yourself or seeking support from a friend or an online support group—these seemingly small actions set off a chain reaction. They create momentum, gradually shifting the trajectory of your healing journey.

There will be many moments when you feel stuck, when progress seems halted, to be sure. So it’s crucial to remember that just as a chain reaction slows at times, it doesn’t mean it’s stopped. It only takes one domino to restart the cascade—a moment of insight, a breakthrough with your coach, or a newfound coping mechanism. These moments reignite the domino effect, propelling you forward once again.

Healing from complex trauma requires patience and understanding. Be gentle with yourself at your current ability level, when the road feels arduous. Remember, it’s okay to rest. Even in rest, as you catch your breath, the dominoes are still in place, ready to move when you’re rejuvenated and prepared to continue.

Community and support are pillars of strength. Surround yourself with individuals who uplift and encourage your journey. Share your story (only what feels ok and safe to share), and connect with others who have walked similar paths. In doing so, you create a network of interconnected dominoes, each supporting the other, amplifying the power of collective resilience.

As the dominoes fall, each one symbolizes progress—a testament to your courage and determination. Embrace the idea that healing is not about erasing the past but about finding peace from it. Your wounds turn into scars and your scars tell stories of your survival, resilience, and eventual triumph.

IT’S NOT MAGIC, IT’S SCIENCE:

WHAT EXPONENTIAL GROWTH TRULY LOOKS LIKE 

Imagine this: a single domino can topple another, and that one, in turn, can set off a chain reaction. This simple idea embodies the science of the domino effect—an illustration of how small actions can lead to massive results. The “magic” lies in the exponential growth inherent in this phenomenon: When a domino falls, it can knock over another domino that’s about 1.5 times larger. This seemingly minor increase in size results in a progressively greater force. After just 23 dominoes, the last one would be as tall as the Empire State Building. And with only a few more, those dominoes could stretch all the way to the moon!

This scientific principle mirrors the journey of recovering from complex trauma. Initially, taking those first small steps might not seem significant, but each action creates a ripple effect, setting off a sequence of events that gain momentum over time.

So, as you embark on your trauma recovery journey, remember the power of the domino effect. Every small step forward is like toppling a domino, setting in motion a chain reaction of healing. Embrace the compounding effect of these actions, knowing that they have the potential to create a monumental shift in your life.

1st Domino:

The size of a standard domino is roughly about 2 inches by 1 inch (5 cm by 2.5 cm).

5th Domino:

Comparable to a smartphone, measuring approximately 5.5 inches by 2.75 inches (14 cm by 7 cm).

10th Domino:

Roughly the size of a standard laptop, around 15 inches by 9.5 inches (38 cm by 24 cm).

20th Domino:

Similar in size to a small flat-screen TV, approximately 1.05 meters by 41 inches by 20 inches (0.52 meters).

23rd Domino:

Reaching the height of an average adult, standing at about 5 feet 7 inches tall (1.70 meter).

26th Domino:

Towering to the height of a two-story house, at approximately 14 feet 5 inches (4.39 meters).

29th Domino:

Standing at approximately 1,454 feet (443.2 meters) tall, the height of the Empire State Building.

50th Domino:

Using the initial domino as a reference (approximately 2 inches or 5 cm tall), it would take around 50 iterations of the 1.5 times growth to achieve a height capable of reaching the moon. So, after merely getting to the 50th domino in the sequence, with the exponential growth continuing, you could literally reach or even surpass the distance to the moon (238,855 miles or 384,400 kms from Earth)!

This staggering illustration showcases the incredible power of exponential growth in the domino effect, and the astonishing progression in size as the dominoes continue to fall. From the small scale of handheld objects to human-sized and even architectural and astronomical proportions, this sequence illustrates the tremendous impact that the cumulative effect of small actions can have as we take one step back, then one small step forward, and then another, and another, on our brave journey towards trauma recovery. In the face of daunting challenges, you may not always be able to see it, yet it is a scientific fact that every small action sets off a chain reaction, capable of monumental outcomes.

WHAT’S THE POINT?

Within the simple fall of a domino lies a profound lesson—the power of resilience and the potential of incremental progress. Each step forward, no matter how seemingly small, contributes to the exponential chain reaction of your growth and transformation.

As you bravely navigate the journey of healing from complex trauma, remember the wisdom of the domino effect and trust the resilience within you because as a survivor, you have indeed survived 100% of everything you have had to endure to get to this very blog post today.

Embrace your process, with all its highs and lows, knowing that your actions, each one akin to toppling a domino, carry within them the potential for monumental transformation, in the same way that the humble acorn carries within its tiny, hardened shell, the promise of a mighty oak.

ARE YOU READY TO RECOVER WITH THE SUPPORT OF

A CERTIFIED COMPLEX TRAUMA RECOVERY COACH? 

BOOK A FREE 45-MINUTE DISCOVERY CALL WITH ME!

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