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

The Onset of Abuse and Humiliation

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

Confronting the Pain and Building Resilience

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

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

Toxic Patterns  

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

What Codependency Looks Like

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

Ego and the Marriage Trap: A Cautionary Tale

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

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

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

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

The Poison of Unresolved Anger: Paulina’s Story

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

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

The Deeper Message in The Pain

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

Recognizing the Signs of Trauma

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

Common warning signs include:

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

The Secrecy of Silence

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

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

Healing the Inner Child.

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

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

Trauma-Informed Steps for Support and Healing for Survivors:

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

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

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

Support

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

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

References and sources:

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

Photo by DICSON on Unsplash

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

Jenney Clark

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

jenneyclark.com/

If you’ve read my blog for more than five minutes, you already know I’ve been on this healing ride for a long while. Long enough to have collected a whole scrapbook of “Oh wow, I finally get it” moments… and an equally thick stack of “what fresh hell is this?” ones.

You’d think by now I’d be used to what I can only describe as “the whiplash:” the emotional ebbs, the flows, and the rogue waves that smack you right in the face when you’re just trying to mind your business.

Hate to break it to you, but… nope. Still not used to it. Not even close.

When Every Emotion Shows Up Uninvited

The last 48 hours have felt like hitting some kind of emotional epicenter, as though every feeling I’ve ever had RSVP’d “yes” and showed up early. It’s blindsided me, if I’m honest. I still don’t know what to do with all of it. I’m just here, trying to breathe through the overwhelm and trying not to judge myself for having a nervous system that occasionally goes full fireworks display for no clear reason.

But this is the work, right? Showing up even when you don’t feel ready.

The Junk Drawer of Feelings We Pretend Doesn’t Exist

Sitting with what hurts instead of shoving it back into the drawer to deal with it later. We’ve all done it, right? Slid something painful into that imaginary junk drawer, intending to deal with it later–even though we know “later” could mean anywhere from next week to the next decade. And then one day that drawer bursts open like a pissed-off jack-in-the-box, and suddenly you’re knee-deep in feelings you did not schedule into your day.

That’s kind of what this week has felt like. As if the universe leaned over, tapped me on the shoulder, and whispered, “Hey, remember that unresolved emotional rubble you were hoping would sort itself out? Yeah… about that.” And listen, I try to be a good sport about healing. I try to roll with whatever comes up. But even I have to laugh when my nervous system decides to deliver all its notifications at once, like some chaotic emotional iPhone: You have 47 new feelings.

Cool. Thanks. Exactly what I wanted this Saturday.

My Nervous System’s Saturday Gift

And what’s funny is that none of the feelings I’m having are new. They’re all familiar regulars: fear, sadness, longing, and that weird anticipatory dread that pops up for no apparent reason, just arriving louder than usual. Like someone turned the emotional volume knob up to eleven and walked away, it’s a lot. And my instinct, the little old me who learned to survive chaos by shutting down, still says, “Push it down. Make it neat and tidy. Don’t feel all of that at once.”

The Old Instinct to Shut Down (And Why It Doesn’t Work Anymore)

But I can’t do that anymore. Every time I’ve tried, it’s ended in absolute fuckery. And that takes more out of me than sitting with the feelings, letting them be, and feeling them. So here I am, doing just that.

But what people don’t realize is that “sitting with it” sometimes looks like staring at a wall, drinking lukewarm tea, internally screaming, and wondering why healing doesn’t come with a handbook or at least a troubleshooting guide. I could use something like, “If you are suddenly overwhelmed by feelings for no apparent reason, please try turning yourself off and back on again.”

But no. All we get is the mess.

Healing Isn’t Neat, But It Is Honest

But at the end of the day, that’s the point. Because healing isn’t about becoming someone who never gets overwhelmed. It’s about becoming someone who doesn’t abandon themselves when they do. And let me tell you, that one stings a little. Because if I’m being brutally honest, the person I’ve abandoned the most over the years is me. I don’t say that to beat myself up, but to acknowledge the truth. When you grow up believing your feelings are “too much,” you learn to make yourself small. You learn to take up as little emotional space as possible.

Learning Not to Abandon Myself

But I’m not doing that anymore (or, at least, I’m trying really hard not to). So here I am, trying to stay with myself through all of this intensity. Trying to remind the younger parts of me that they’re not alone this time. To breathe instead of run. And trying to trust that there’s nothing wrong with me for having big feelings; there’s just a lot inside that finally feels safe enough to surface.

And maybe that’s what this emotional epicenter really is: proof that something inside me believes I can handle what’s coming up now. Proof that my system is opening, rather than breaking.

Messily. Loudly. Inconveniently.

But still opening.

For Anyone Riding Their Own Rogue Wave Right Now

If you’re here too, riding your own rogue wave right now, just know you’re not doing it wrong. Sometimes the heart cracks open not because you’re falling apart, but because something inside you is finally ready to be seen. And honestly? As brutal as it feels… that’s kind of beautiful.

Photo by Jeremy Bishop 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.

Jack Brody

Born and raised in Boston, Jack Brody has called New York City home for over 30 years. He’s a proud father to a teenage daughter, a survivor of childhood abuse, and someone who knows firsthand what it means to live with Complex PTSD.

Diagnosed six years ago, Jack has been on a deep healing journey, one marked by therapy, growth, hard truths, and unexpected resilience. As a men’s mental health advocate, he shares his story to remind others that they’re not broken, not alone, and never beyond hope.

Whether through his writing, podcast, or quiet conversations with fellow survivors, Jack’s mission is simple: to speak honestly about the hard stuff, and to show that healing out loud is not only possible, it’s powerful.

aboutthatjack.com/

Do I tell my parents?
Do they deserve to know what happened to me?
Would they believe me?
Would they hold it with care, or would it break me all over again?

If you’re here, standing in that in-between place, you’re not alone. This is one of the hardest crossroads survivors face. For some, the decision feels clear. For others, like me, it’s layered and ongoing.

Sometimes the abuse happened under your parents’ roof.
Sometimes it was hidden in plain sight.
And sometimes, you don’t even know if they know.

You might find yourself circling questions like:

• Do I owe them this truth?
• Will it bring healing or harm?
• What if they can’t hold it? What if they say the wrong thing, or nothing at all?
• What if I speak it and everything changes—or worse, nothing does?

The truth is, sharing your story with a parent is not required for healing. It is a choice. And like all sacred choices, it deserves time, care, and safety.

Ask Yourself These Questions First

Before deciding to disclose, here are a few grounding questions to sit with:

1. Why do I want to share this?
Is it for connection? Clarity? Validation? To reclaim power? To draw a boundary?
There is no wrong reason, but knowing your why can anchor you.

2. What do I hope will happen? What do I fear might happen?
Give yourself permission to answer both. Hope and fear can live side by side.

3. Have I processed this enough to hold steady if their response is hurtful, shocked, or dismissive?
If not, that’s okay. It may not be time yet.

4. Do I have support ready, a friend, therapist, or coach to debrief with afterward?
You are not meant to carry this alone, no matter how strong you are.

If You Do Choose to Share, Prepare Yourself First

Here are a few things that can help:

• Write down what you want to say.
  It can be a letter, a few bullet points, or a full narrative. Organizing your thoughts helps you stay grounded.
• Practice.
  Talk it through with someone you trust. Let your nervous system rehearse what it feels like to be witnessed.
• Set boundaries before the conversation.
  Say things like, “I just need you to listen right now,” or “I’m not looking for advice or debate.”
• Prepare for all outcomes.
  They may meet you with compassion, or they may not. Your truth is still valid.
• Have a plan for how to step away if needed.
  If things get overwhelming, you get to pause, end, or redirect the conversation.

And If You Decide Not to Tell Them? That’s Valid Too.

You do not owe anyone your story. Not even your family.

You can be deeply healing and wildly brave without ever telling your parents what happened.

Not telling doesn’t mean you’re hiding. It means you are choosing what is safest, kindest, and most aligned for you right now.

And if your answer changes later? That’s okay. This journey is not linear.

Final Thoughts

This part of your story, the telling, the not telling, the wondering, still belongs to you.

You don’t have to rush. You don’t need anyone’s permission. You get to honor your truth in whatever way feels right. You are not broken. You are becoming. And that is powerful.

As for me, I still haven’t shared my story with my parents.
They can’t even hold my warm memories without minimizing them, so I’ve chosen not to interrupt my peace just to be met with silence or dismissal. I may never get the response I would hope for, and that’s a grief I’ve learned to hold gently. For now, protecting my healing matters more than being understood by people who never truly saw me.

And maybe that’s the bravest choice of all.

Photo by Ioann-Mark Kuznietsov 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.

Danica Alison

Danica Alison is an optimist, deep thinker, and out-of-the-box adventurer who finds meaning in life’s chaos. She’s a writer, a healing advocate, and someone who believes healing is a journey best traveled with curiosity, humor, and a little bit of rebellious joy.
A lifelong lover of stories, both lived and told. She is passionate about exploring the messy, beautiful process of being human. Whether she’s writing, learning, or connecting with others, she brings a mix of warmth, honesty, and a refusal to fit into neat little boxes.

www.DanicaAlison.com

The Black Sheep Hath Landed

When we were kids, I would climb trees or run wild with the boys, and Melanie would sit in a corner playing with dollhouses or reading a book. To get her to participate in any game was a herculean task. She disliked playing outdoors, didn’t like to socialize or attend birthday bashes, and kept to herself… The consequence of being kids from a dysfunctional family created two extreme personalities. I guess that’s how psychology works: in the absence of love and attention, you either withdraw into a shell or go out and seek it with a vengeance.

Poor Mel bore the brunt of my unpredictable personality. I drove her crazy by demanding attention, fighting, and bickering to get what I wanted ad hominem.

Full-Blown ADHD: Summer Days Drifting Away

One summer, I found myself bored and without company. All the neighbors were off for the holidays. But my 8-year-old mind wanted excitement, so I decided I wanted Mel to play with me. She refused even as she sat reading a book beneath the shade of a gooseberry tree, too busy to comply. I strode over, irate that she thwarted my plans. Above her head, nestled in the branches of the tree, hung a beehive, buzzing with activity; an evil, impish grin took over my face. I picked up a stone, threw it at the conclave of humming insects, and ran for my life. A clueless Melanie remained seated when, all of a sudden, piercing stings rained on her body from every direction. She ran, yelling and screaming, while I stood there, hands on hips, wondering if she would be ready to play now. Needless to say, Granny thrashed me, and that got me sobered up really fast.

My ADHD was definitely in full swing. Being precocious and hyperactive, I devised every possible prank and scheme to get my way. I was spirited and stubborn, a combination that was exhilarating for me but challenging for the adults trying to supervise me. My mother was busy dating and paid little attention to us, which allowed me to run wild and create chaos. I would kick, scream, and plot to get what I wanted. My grandmother would sit me down and warn me, but a brat wants what a brat wants. Mel endured my endless tantrums and fights without complaint. Eventually, when I turned 11, I had to grow up, as that was when my mother left us to get married, and her priorities changed.

Grandma: My Parent, Teacher, and Best Friend

After a year at boarding school, my mom, who often delayed fee payments, moved us to Uncle Lionel’s house. Grandma lived with us, too. After Grandpa passed away, she primarily stayed with Melanie and me because she wanted to look after us. She was the only one who genuinely cared about our well-being and taught me important values that I cherish. But we had our share of fights. I was a tough kid to raise—mischievous and pigheaded. Grandma would raise the cane, and I’d challenge her to “thrash me.” A few minutes later, we’d either be laughing or I’d be sulking, and she’d come to comfort me. Sometimes, I regret making her cry with all my antics, but beyond that, we were blood… Though she was my grandmother, she was the only real mother figure I ever knew. Our bond was incredibly precious.

Today, she is no longer with us, and I feel her absence deeply. I cherish the memories of walking to college with my sister; that journey took us an hour and was filled with laughter and dreams. Our grandmother, with her caring nature, always made sure we had a hearty breakfast before sending us off. Mostly, we would scrounge for pocket change to buy shampoo sachets, a small treat that felt like a luxury. On festive occasions, Grandma would lovingly stitch dresses for us. The fact is, she was one of the few people who understood that trauma lay beneath my hyperactive ADHD traits.

Phobias and Mischief

I vividly recall my tomboy phase, a time filled with adventure and mischief. I would climb trees, play with boys, and raise hell. My greatest joy came from racing across the fields with my neighbors and playing games like hide-and-seek and seven stones. I was also friends with Melanie’s classmates, who were the older boys.

A drawback of my childhood was my intense dislike of lizards. I have carried this phobia with me ever since. Being Indian means living with the many varieties we see here. My friend Donna aptly calls them “flycatchers.” I remember being afraid of the lizards darting around in Grandma’s garden. The chameleons especially revolted me, and boys, as usual, zeroed in on my phobia. Whenever they had a chance, I was chased with plastic lizards, live ones, and every color of lizard in between. Being the hellraiser I was, I always got my revenge one way or the other. “Don’t mess with me” was my motto.

 Also, these reptiles remind me of other dark moments, like being locked out of my home in the dark of night as a form of punishment for my hare-brained schemes. It was traumatizing for me, like many other such incidents, but I took it, and I suppose it toughened me. You might say chameleons are symbolic of how one can also adapt to a situation and protect oneself.

Quirky and Quirkier Friends

Since I was a social oddity, my friends tended to be like me. Damien was one such friend and Melanie’s classmate. He had an impish smile and a bag full of tricks. He was forever into tomfoolery and loved making wagers. During my teen years, I dared him to shave off his mustache. Sure enough, the next day, he showed up bright and early, completely clean-shaven. Everyone thought it was funny, but not Damien.

Over the years, I noticed that my choice of friends was different. I preferred buddies based on their character and kindness, not their popularity. They were unique, both male and female, and I usually had nicknames for them. I had this friend Sandra, whom I named Jack, and she called me Mike because I liked Michael Jackson.

 I still don’t mind being an oddball; I’ve always said normal is boring.

Summing up: What Children Believe, They Become

Yes, childhood trauma can increase the risk of ADHD symptoms.  Kids with ADHD especially need special care, including cognitive behavioral therapy and a strong support system both at home and in school. More importantly, engaging in activities that keep their curious minds busy can significantly help with impulse control. Don’t blame a child with ADHD; they are still learning how to regulate their emotions. Recovery from ADHD is a journey that takes time and patience. The CPTSD Foundation offers Daily Recovery Support and a Trauma-informed weekly newsletter for individuals healing from complex trauma.

In the end, remember this: family, friends, and love are all that truly matter. Let go of all hatred and set yourself free. If someone has hurt you, forgive them and embrace love, because love conquers all.

Photo by Roberto Nickson on Unsplash

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

Jenney Clark

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

jenneyclark.com/

But the grief is still there. Quiet. Confusing. All-consuming. It lingers in the silence. It whispers in the questions. It pulses through the ache of “what could have been” and “what should have been.” And the hardest part? Much of this grief doesn’t have a clear source, an ending, or even a name.

This kind of grief is often called ambiguous loss. It’s what Dr. Pauline Boss describes as a loss that’s unclear, without closure. For those of us healing from complex trauma and childhood abuse, ambiguous loss is everywhere. We grieve things that are hard to define, like the version of ourselves we never got to be, the family we pretended we had, or the safety we told ourselves existed. It’s the pain of losing something that may not have ever truly been there.

There’s the grief of the childhood you didn’t get. Maybe you’ve spent years trying to convince yourself it “wasn’t that bad” or that others “had it worse.” But at some point, in healing, you start to see the cracks. You begin to understand what should have been. You realize that while other kids were being nurtured, protected, and celebrated, you were surviving. That grief runs deep. It’s mourning the little you who was robbed of joy and innocence, without ever realizing it at the time.

Then there’s the grief of the dreams you used to have. Maybe you imagined a life full of love, or a version of success that made it all feel worth it. And now? Now you’re sorting through the wreckage of expectations that were built on survival. You’re letting go of the hope that healing would look a certain way, or that life would one day “make sense.” The grief of unmet dreams isn’t dramatic or cinematic. It’s often quiet. A slow unraveling. A daily reckoning with reality.

And finally, there’s the grief of rebuilding. Starting over, not from scratch, but from scar tissue. Piecing together a new identity after realizing the one you had was shaped by trauma. There’s grief in that too. Grief in the loss of illusion. In the loneliness of transformation. In the deep fatigue that comes from carrying your story and choosing to heal anyway.

So, how do we heal grief like this?

First, we name it. You can’t grieve what you haven’t acknowledged. Maybe it feels silly to mourn something that “wasn’t real” but your body remembers the absence. Your heart knows what it needed and didn’t get. Naming that loss validates it.

Then, we give ourselves permission to mourn. Really mourn. Cry, write, rage, go quiet. There’s no right way to grieve. No rule book. Grief is not a problem to solve. It’s a process to move through with care.

Ritual can help too. It might feel awkward at first, but creating space to honor what’s been lost matters. Light a candle for your inner child. Write a goodbye letter to the version of you that stayed silent. Say out loud the dream you thought would save you. It doesn’t need to be grand. It just needs to be honest.

As we grieve, we start to reimagine who we are becoming. This part is slow and fragile and fierce all at once. We learn to build an identity rooted in truth, not survival. We stop asking who others want us to be and begin asking, “Who do I want to become now?”

And maybe most importantly, we find others who get it. The kind of grief that comes with trauma is lonely. But it doesn’t have to stay that way. When we share our stories, something shifts. We are no longer invisible. We are seen. And when we’re seen, we heal a little more.

Grief isn’t always loud. Sometimes it shows up as exhaustion. Or numbness. Or the quiet ache of realizing that the past cannot be changed, but the future is still yours to shape.

If you are grieving a childhood, you never got…
If you are mourning a dream that never came true…
If you are piecing your life back together, one scarred fragment at a time…

You’re not broken. You’re in process. And that, dear friend, is brave, meaningful work.

A Personal Note:
I didn’t fully understand this kind of grief until I was in it. Until I found myself mourning things I couldn’t even name. If you’re in that space too, I just want you to know that you are not alone. This isn’t the kind of grief most people talk about, but it’s real. And it deserves tenderness. You are worthy of healing, of rebuilding, and of a life that feels like it finally belongs to you. Take your time. Hold your heart gently. You’re doing work that matters.

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.

Danica Alison

Danica Alison is an optimist, deep thinker, and out-of-the-box adventurer who finds meaning in life’s chaos. She’s a writer, a healing advocate, and someone who believes healing is a journey best traveled with curiosity, humor, and a little bit of rebellious joy.
A lifelong lover of stories, both lived and told. She is passionate about exploring the messy, beautiful process of being human. Whether she’s writing, learning, or connecting with others, she brings a mix of warmth, honesty, and a refusal to fit into neat little boxes.

www.DanicaAlison.com

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

An Existential Identity Crisis

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

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

Becoming a Social Outcast

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

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

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

The Birth of the Fear of Abandonment

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

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

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

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

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

Walking Away From Abuse

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

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

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

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

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

Rising from the Ashes

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

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

Final Thoughts: Know Thyself and Thou Shall Know Thy God

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

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

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

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

Jenney Clark

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

jenneyclark.com/

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!

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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.

Sophie Gourdon, M.Ed, MA, CTRC, CHt

As the Founder of Little Wave Coaching, LLC, Sophie walks alongside complex trauma survivors, helping them recover and thrive beyond trauma to live more connected, meaningful, authentic lives. She is a Somatic IFS-Informed Certified Trauma Recovery Coach, Certified Clinical Emotional Freedom Techniques practitioner, and Certified Consulting Hypnotist. She is also a complex, childhood, and sexual trauma overcomer. She offers evidence-based coaching to survivors seeking to overcome their anxiety, overwhelm, cravings, chronic pain, complex, childhood, or sexual trauma. Littlewavecoaching.com is a comprehensive self-healing resource welcoming and supporting all complex trauma survivors seeking recovery. It is packed with psychoeducation about somatic tools like Emotional Freedom Techniques, Tapping, IFS/Parts Work, Solution-Driven Hypnosis, and Brain Rewiring, as well as hundreds of resources (e.g. 130+ videos, 50+ books, 80+ calm kit tools & more).

www.littlewavecoaching.com

There is a game afoot! It is there lying in wait for the next time you do something or act a certain way that mirrors an old pattern from the past. It is ready to rise up again and get you to turn on yourself in a way that you have been trained to do. Like a marionette on strings, you will hop to another’s tune, and move in the same way that you have been taught and habituated to react. Except now you are the one pulling the strings and are the puppet herself. You are in both roles now.

Oftentimes, the way in which we were made to jump through hoops as a child or with a long-standing abuser or abusive parent, guardian, sibling, or toxic extended family structure remains intact as we get older. Complex trauma does not let go of old wounds, patterns, and the sickening games we were made to play out with dysfunctional others just because we reach adulthood.

If you are dealing with CPTSD you know all too well the layered onion, and seemingly endless areas of wounding and places within that hold trauma. When repetitive abuse occurs, especially as a child, the entrenched patterns created by toxic abusers can be a minefield to navigate for the rest of one’s life. Throughout life, triggers and old patterns arise that throw us into flashbacks, dissociative episodes, and long periods of mental and physical anguish. Help is never quite sufficient, thorough enough, readily available, or affordable. Any stop-gap measure we might reach for never quite alleviates suffering or fixes what is wrong. The band-aid approach is never enough to heal the wounds faced in a day, a month, or a life. They become frustratingly inadequate, and a reminder of how broken, unhealable, and like an unfixable project we feel.

A child, who has endured and survived repetitive and long-term abuse and neglect is set up to fail. Used repeatedly in an abuser(s) game of self-interest and exploitation. A way to gain power and control over another because of their own feelings of insecurity, inadequacy, and mental instability. But for an adult to do this to another – let alone a child, and let alone their own child, is an inexcusable act. Yet, the child is the one that will carry all of the trauma, the wounds, shame, and self-hatred, and find no forgiveness for herself/himself even into adulthood. The child will internalize all the hatred, abuse, game-playing, hoop-jumping, neglect, unworthiness, undeserving, insecurity, and inadequacy as their own – and replay it for a lifetime. This is the perpetrator’s intention, however, to project all their own toxic shame, unhealed wounds, unaccepted parts, and places held and hated within them to those outside of themselves and onto their chosen target.

As a child – the first instincts are that of a wholly innocent being learning from those that are in charge of her/his welfare, growth, and healthy development. The child is a sponge – taking in what it is given. Learning from those in their immediate sphere. This child is not chosen because she/he is bad or wrong or deserved to be used and exploited – this is never or will ever be the fault of a child. We must go back to this place of innocence, of our wholeness at birth, of our deserving, our worthiness, and our already loved, loveable, and loving state of being. This is how we were born and how we came into the world. It is not gained through religion, spiritual practices, societal or cultural norms, or another’s determination that deems us so. Innocence and wholeness are the authentic nature of any newborn – this is your authentic nature – your intact, universally-given, and granted way of being. Take away all else that you think you are, or all that you have covered yourself in, or added to your being, and go back to the simple truth of who you are. Drop everything that you have tried to add to make yourself more, and see that you are already imbued with this truth of wholeness and completeness, and are absolutely and unconditionally loved.

The problem begins when the truth of our wholeness and innocence is consistently skewed by another, especially by a parent or caregiver, and then reinforced by the wider circle of familial enablers, and all those wishing to stay safe from attack themselves. Over time, the campaigns of abuse and being projected upon, gaslit, scapegoated, and traumatized create patterns within the child that become entrenched. How is a child’s mind supposed to cope with such strain and abuse, and the cognitive dissonance and callous senselessness by those that are supposed to love, protect, and care for them? A child’s psyche will eventually break under the pressure of abuse, and fractures as it jumps through endless hoops trying to find solid ground and a space or person who is safe and trustworthy but instead finds that safety and acceptance are a lost cause. In order to survive, the mind breaks off into fragments to hold parts of itself safe, and far away from terror and obliteration, while other parts become the bully, or the severe inner critic mimicking the abuser, and turning on herself/himself. The idea that any child is subjected to a home where they must endure and survive their own parents and family to develop and grow is an unconscionable thought. Yet, it is an unspoken, unaided, and unattended reality in so many households. It is no wonder the patterns developed as a child and reinforced within the family system and extended enabler system, become the abusive ghosts that follow us throughout life.

Habituated – practiced, addicted, seasoned, veteran, hardened, experienced, dependent, accustomed, inclined, hooked – these are all synonyms for the word habituated. It is clear the power that repetitive abuse and neglect have over another, and the way the mind, body, and heart adapt to handle the pressure and cognitive dissonance of manipulation and abusive encounters, especially by parents, caregivers, loved ones, spouses, family, and extended interpersonal groups.

We end up abusing ourselves, jumping through our own hoops and over our own created hurdles. We end up setting up similar games that we can play out in our day-to-day lives, and then if we fail or do not do it exactly as we think it should be done, we then become our own bully or abuser. We may not realize the negative self-talk and berating critical voice as an old abuser but if we look and listen again we may find a familiar narrative.

Your inner critic re-affirms untruths about yourself that you have internalized to be true. Athena Laz, “The Deliberate Dreamer’s Journal”

The inner critic can hold space as a gentle voice, as an impatient and judgmental voice, or come in full throttle as a severe and chronically abusive inner critic. These changes, or degree of severity can ebb and flow or it can be stuck on one consistent volume. This is the voice, including the language used and the games being played that we need to open to, come closer to, and really begin to listen to, to be able to unwind and reveal the looping narrative at play. Clarity in this practice is key to unlocking the power and control that this negative and repetitive pattern has over you.

STEPS TO REPATTERN OLD PATTERNS

1. The first step is just beginning to listen; to become aware of that inner toxic noise that comes in to berate, abuse, judge, or tell you that you are wrong, unworthy, or dole out other negative self-talk. Begin to journal what is arising, and what you are beginning to hear and see as ridiculously judgmental, over the top, and far from a loving voice. Get to know this recurring narrative, the sound, and tone of voice, and breathe deeply into your courageous and willing action to face, understand, and “out” this old foe that lives hidden and resolute in the dark corners of your mind.
2. The second step is to redirect negative self-talk in a new way. As the inner critic’s voice becomes clearer to you – begin to develop a positive inner coach – with a firm but fair tone and voice. If you played sports or had a teacher or other adult in your life that was a positive influence link into this constructive, supportive, and motivating way of being that you admired and how this helped you in your life. Foster and nurture an inner coach within you that stands in her own power, is confident and sometimes tough with you, but inherently and unconditionally loves you and wants the best for you. As the inner critic comes online, and you are swayed to take up your place in the old habituated pattern – bring your inner tough-loving coach in to stand up to the negative inner critic and say “NO! I will not play this game with you. I have had enough!” Allow your inner coach to stand in this place with you and guide you lovingly, and firmly through the experience, standing up to the voice of criticism and the deep trough of addicted reacting and negative feedback. As you stand up to, become clearly aware of, and face the inner critic this negative voice will begin to diminish over time. Allow your inner coach to direct you and bring you back to yourself, and back to a loving, safe, and protected place – grounded, and free from the negative patterning and toxic inner voices. Write down the language of your loving inner coach. Write down statements that you can reach for when old negative self-talk arises or when you notice the critical voice in the background of your mind – dictating softly what it does not want you to hear and become wise to. Be prepared and ready for the patterns that will cycle back and try to exploit your habituated mind and bring you back to the patterns of the past. Get ready to overturn the apple cart and interrupt the old voices and patterns trying to get you back into the game.
3. The third step is to find the toxic games you were forced to play as a child. Any games or hoops you were made to jump through by an abuser or others, and then find it within yourself today. Where are you still playing out that role or game? Where are you overriding your own ability to love yourself fully because of this seasoned pattern that is still replaying in your life? Where are you abandoning your own sense of self-acceptance and the ability to see yourself as whole, loveable, worthy, and deserving of being loved? If as an adult you find yourself feeling to blame for mistakes made by others or anything that goes wrong you may have been the subject of scapegoating or gaslighting. These patterns once seen and faced can begin to shift with your loving awareness, and your inner coach’s help to let go of the feelings of self-blame, shame, and guilt for all that is not yours. Another example could be if you had to take on the responsibility of your parents and family – overextending yourself to fix problems, secure love, and acceptance, survive, and parent your parents. This could manifest in your adulthood as someone who takes on the responsibilities of those that shirk their responsibilities – triggered by the feelings of having to survive, try and make things better, more organized, and less overwhelming and tolerable for you to exist in.

Overriding old negative patterns will take time. But as you move through and encounter these moments you will find that the love that supports you in this process – your own loving heart that wants to advise, support, motivate, and change old habits will become stronger than the old pattern put on you and adapted for your survival. It will become clear that it is no longer what you want to metabolize in your daily life or hold as a way of being. You will find yourself becoming more self-empowered, and unwilling to put up with nonsense, criticism, and negativity, and become focused on loving yourself from the inside out and being treated with care, safety, love, and respect. You are habituating your own loving patterns now and seeing the old hardened and unyielding ways of being unraveling and falling away.

EMBRACE YOURSELF

as the one that has been with you your whole life,

as the one who wants to love you more than anything else,

as the one who knows you best,

as the one who can understand your pain,

as the one who has deep compassion,

for all that you have endured,

as the one who feels the inner ache,

and wants to hold and soothe,

as the one who holds the key to your freedom.

Give way now to your own loving hand

outstretched and eager to lead you back home

to yourself,

and to your own loving heart.

Drop all that you believe about yourself

good, bad, or indifferent.

Drop all of the ways in which you judge yourself,

all of the ways in which you say you have wronged or are wrong,

all of the ways in which your abilities and life have not measured up.

Give way to a new space of allowing yourself to be just as you are.

Can you accept this?

Can you see yourself as whole and complete in all that you do?

Can you give up picking yourself apart,

and tearing yourself to shreds

because you think you have erred in some way?

It is time sweet one, to accept all that you are,

all that you have been and will ever be.

It is time to stand in your wholeness,

with your imagined flaws, imperfections, and all.

It is time to walk with head held high,

with chest raised, shoulders back,

breathing in and out fully and confidently.

It is time to stand in the space of self-empowerment,

of deserving, worthiness, of safety and spaciousness,

even if you do not yet believe it fully.

It is time to play the game your way,

to embrace, love and become all that you are

at this moment, in this place and time.

There is nothing else that needs to be added,

nothing to fix or figure out.

There is no new trauma project to take on and heal,

no more internal changes you need to make,

except for the one that makes you a friend to yourself,

and the practice

of wholeness,

self-acceptance and self-loving actions.

There will still be times when you falter,

and fall back into old patterns,

and play out others’ games,

using yourself as the scapegoat or whipping post,

but this will become your reminder

of what no longer serves you,

and you can step back into your practice,

and your game of loving yourself unconditionally

as the way of relearning your way back home

to your deserving, worthy and loving heart.

_Sunny Lynn, OMC, HeartBalm

To read or explore more please reference this publications resource list:

• _Athena Laz, “The Deliberate Dreamer’s Journal”
• _Sunny Lynn, OMC, HeartBalm

For other helpful articles, tools, and topics visit the HeartBalm Archives, and for healing-guided meditations please visit the HeartBalm Meditation Toolbox on the home page. To subscribe or to find out more information go to the HeartBalm website.

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.

Sunny Lynn, OMC

Sunny Lynn, OMC is a spiritual counselor, writer, poet, photographer, meditator, and nature lover on a mission of transmuting complex trauma through self-love, healing, and bringing balm to hearts everywhere. She has a blog and podcast – HeartBalm at heartbalm.substack.com that speaks on the topic of self-care and self-love, mindfulness and healing while living with CPTSD.

www.heartbalmhealing.com

A Short Childhood Story

My brother glanced at me as we “read” the emotional temperature of the room. What was tonight going to be like? My mother already had one of those frowns on her face. 

As expected, she began her nightly diatribe. “These kids have been terrible all day. I don’t know why they won’t listen. I’m so miserable. I can’t get any one of you to help me do anything.” She turned to me and screamed. “STOP KICKING THAT TABLE LEG.”

On cue, the terrifyingly dark cloud that was my father rolled in. His voice commanded total obedience. “I don’t want to hear it tonight.”

My stomach started to hurt. I looked at the stewed tomatoes sitting in a bowl by my plate. They were disgusting. My mother was now busy fixing one of her favorite treats. Cornbread mushed down in a glass of buttermilk. It looked like vomit. My brother’s face peeped over the round oak table. He was eating as fast as he could in order to get away as soon as possible. 

I couldn’t eat another bite. I just couldn’t. The hum of my parents arguing, coupled with my mother’s recitation of all the terrible things I had done that day made me sick. I was so bad, no punishment would be enough for me. I looked at my father. He was terrifying. I made myself take a small bite of food. My stomach really hurt.

My father noticed. “You eat all that food or you’ll get a whipping.”

My mother nodded in happy agreement. The bane of her existence, me, was getting what I deserved. “Yes!” She enthusiastically colluded. She put some “greens” on my plate. I knew my father would make me eat them. They lay like rotten seaweed as my mother poured her favorite condiment over them, vinegar. I promptly threw up into everyone’s plate and all over the dining room table.

I don’t remember much about what happened after that. I do remember being banished to my room. I lay silently in bed that night, surrounded by thick blackness. The hum of a car engine sounded in the distance—headlights nimbly jumping from wall to wall. I squeezed my eyes shut. My brother once told me, “If you let yourself see the lights of passing cars, you’ll have nightmares.” I didn’t need the lights of cars to give me those.

The Beginnings of Parentification

I started with this story in an attempt to explain how the pattern of parentification begins. Constant threat sets the stage for total compliance. As I grew a little older, my role as a scapegoat continued, but it morphed into another role. My father used me as his emotional wife. Though he never touched me in a sexual way, he committed devastating emotional abuse. I remember the warm feeling of his approval as I listened intently to his opinion on a host of favorite topics. My mother grew jealous and her hatred towards me increased. I was pulled into my father’s confidence as he explained his frustrations about his marriage even to the point of sharing intimate details. 

As a twelve-year-old, I stood before one of the greatest works of art in Western civilization. Michelangelo’s Pieta sat just inside the gigantic doors of the Vatican. My father enjoyed that trip to Italy as much as I did. Two years before, he had taken my brother to Spain. To an outsider, such glorious opportunities must seem wonderful. No one thought it odd that my mother sat at home while my father took his kids on whirlwind trips to Europe. Parentification was in full swing—we traveled with my father, not my mother.

Serving as a pastor, my father often spoke in various churches throughout the week. I was always the one to accompany him. My mother never attended. I loved the special attention I got as his sidekick. 

As the years passed, the pattern became more and more entrenched. I only ever existed to please and agree with my father. It gave him the total control he longed for and was the reason I stayed in the relationship for so long. Why would I leave the only source of “love” I had? 

The Pattern of Continued Parentification

The pattern of parentification forces survivors, like you, to learn their needs and desires will not be met. You must learn to deny your innermost thoughts in order to please your parents. This powerful pattern takes on many forms. Perhaps the family system did not provide financially. Maybe you had to work to help the family, were made responsible for raising siblings, or were given chores beyond your capabilities. Maybe your mother relied on you emotionally through a divorce. Whatever form it takes, parentification keeps you quiet about the truth of the family system. It cuts you off from healing and forces you to stay enmeshed in destructive patterns.

You could not and can not help your parents with their emotional pain. You do not have the ability to make your parents happy nor do you have such an obligation. Those feelings were placed in your heart long ago by your parent’s unwillingness to take responsibility for themselves. The protective instinct and obligation you feel towards your parent/parents is a symptom of parentification. 

My father set himself up as the “good” parent and used my mother as a target. By the time they divorced many years later, the stage had been set to drag me into the mess and destroy what little emotional life I had left. The only approval I ever received was for doing what my father wanted. Never for being myself. 

This is why it is so hard to leave a parental abuser for those who have cultivated compliance over the formative years of life. This is also why the symptoms of Complex PTSD are so profound and so difficult to heal. It is mind control, brain-washing, and emotional destruction of the highest order. And it is done in secret. 

None of this is your fault. If I could give you any gift, it would be that you would stop blaming yourself. You’ve suffered long enough. It is time to defy trauma, and embrace joy.

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Rebekah Brown

Rebekah Brown, a native of the south, now resides in the Great American West. Surviving a complicated and abusive family system makes her unique writing style insightful as well as uplifting. Rebekah is the proud mother of two and grandmother of four.

Recently, during meditation, I heard a young inner part of me, loud and clear: “I am not allowed to be happy.” I had just received the publication date for The Blossoming Lotus, my up-coming poetry book. Instead of excitement, I felt suddenly depressed.  How do I get this inner part to enjoy life itself, with all its milestones along the way? How do I break the “not allowed to be happy” rule and allow myself to fully experience joy?

For most writers, getting a publishing date for their book is an occasion to celebrate. After days of waiting for this date, when it arrived in my mailbox, I felt my heart racing, my stomach fluttering and my palms sweating. A few years back, I’d be asking myself what was wrong with me or, I’d be questioning why I don’t feel happy and proud of this achievement. This time around though, although I didn’t fully understand my reaction to good news, I knew I needed to feel it. My mother was there, in the background of my mind.

Free to feel joy

One night, as I was listening to a sleep meditation, with some positive affirmations, when I heard: “Free to feel joy.” My heart jumped – it is the best way I can describe it. It was uncomfortable but, it was clear to me, my low mood was linked to NOT feeling free to experience joy and happiness. The next morning. during meditation, I heard a young inner part, loud and clear; “I am not allowed to be happy. Mum doesn’t want me to be happy.” This inner part felt total despair and deep sadness. My heart did another somersault, and I felt my facial muscles drop, my jaw shaking as if I was a child about to burst into tears. I tried to rectify my facial expression but,  couldn’t. I relaxed into it and felt the full force of her despair. My body started to shake a little. I breathed into all of this and then, opened my eyes and grounded myself as I had just experienced a powerful shift.

I didn’t deserve nice things

I later understood what happened: I fully embodied this young inner child. The body-shaking signified a release of energy. For the rest of the day, I let all my emotions and experience settle down and guide me. I had flashbacks of instances when my mother would ask me if I wanted some new shoes, or this dress, just to say: “Well, you can’t have it.” There was a day when I laughed and she demanded I stop laughing. By my late teens, I had forgotten about my deepest desires/ dreams and dared not ask for anything anymore. And, yes, there were many occasions that proved life was shit, I didn’t deserve nice things or I certainly wasn’t to expect to achieve anything of value and to get an easy ride.

For those who declare “Happiness is a choice.” as if all we have to do is decide to be happy and, then instantly experience delight, it is simply not true for someone who has been abused throughout their childhood and, had to give up hope to survive. Hearts, lives, and dreams have been shattered and few lucky ones are supported well enough, in adulthood, to go on leading a fulfilling and joyful life. It takes time, patience, and tender loving care into nurturing a brain wired for survival into a brain wired for simply enjoying being alive.

I kept breathing loving kindness, and self-compassion through these intense emotional and visual flashbacks. I reached out to my friends who understand that, for me, it is hard to fully relax into this amazing experience it has been, so far, to write and to get my poetry book published! It is a bit hard when people around me are so excited and keep on congratulating me! I kept having this “something isn’t quite right” feeling as if I was expecting something terrible to happen. As if, I was doing something wrong in achieving my dream of becoming an author! 

Let the Universe love you, support and guide you

When I asked this young inner part what she needed from me, the answered: “Don’t leave me!” Most of my inner parts asked me not to leave them, and to, please, and love them. I validate their painful experiences and their feelings, and then I see them getting cozy within my heart center, being showered in unconditional love. I then, gradually, feel them relax. I keep meditating on the guidance I receive a lot at the moment: “Let the Universe love you, support and guide you. You are no longer alone. You are the Universe/Light/Love in a human form. Focus on your loving relationships with everything single inner precious part of you and everything else will fall into place.”

During these times of shifting and processing. I can feel emotionally drained. I feel more sensitive too. In times like this, I repeat my favourite motto: “Gently does it.” There are times for action or inner work, and there are times for rest.

Take gentle care of yourselves.

Sylvie

• For Inner Parts work, check out Dr Richard Schwartz’s Internal Family System -IFS
• For Self-Compassion, go to Dr Kristin Neff’s website: Self-Compassion
• Read: Experiencing More Joy and Fun in My Life
• The YouTube channel Great Meditation has lots of wonderful meditations – 5 mins to an hour long . This channel has helped me a lot. I highly recommend it. Click in the link below.

Sylvie Rouhani

Writer – Blogger – Poet – Mental Health and Child Abuse Activist

Deputy Editor and Journalist for Taxpayers Against Poverty

Author of The Blossoming Lotus”

https://www.austinmacauley.com/book/blossoming-lotus

New Website: Breaking The Cycles

https://breakingthecycles.co.uk/

breakingthecycles.co.uk