A child can be loved and still be mishandled, fed and still be diminished, and protected from one danger while being trained to mistrust the instincts that might have kept them whole. Much of this damage accumulates without a single courtroom moment or obvious villain. Instead, it’s built through years of correction, dismissal, warning, sarcasm, comparison, discouragement, and adult anxiety presented as wisdom.

The child learns through repetition.

You are too sensitive.
You think too much.
You talk too much.
You want too much.
You are too confident.
You are too different.
You are embarrassing me.
You need to be realistic.
You need to stop acting like you know who you are.

Some adults say these things because they are afraid for the child. Some say them because the child’s clarity unsettles them. Some say them because they confuse obedience with health. Some say them because a child who shines in the wrong direction threatens the family script.

The child may have known something before the adults started spewing corrections. Not everything, of course – children need adults. They need protection, teaching, restraint, accountability, and reality, so romanticizing childhood helps nobody. Children can be impulsive, limited, misinformed, and vulnerable to fantasy in the way children are. A normal childhood carries a cost when adults intervene with various motives. Sometimes with love, sometimes panic, sometimes faith or hope, sometimes with social class fear, and sometimes with jealousy they would deny until their last breath.

Some children carry early signals that deserve care rather than automatic correction: temperament, sensitivity, curiosity, talent, moral discomfort, preference, dislike, a strange sense of calling, a refusal to accept what the family accepts, an ability to notice what nobody else wants named.

• Some know they are artists before anyone calls art impractical.
• Some children know they are mechanically gifted before school labels them inattentive.
• Some children know they are observant before adults call them nosy.
• Some children know they are leaders before someone turns that into bossiness.
• Some children know they are tender before someone teaches them to confuse tenderness with weakness.
• Some children know the household story is crooked before they have adult language for abuse, addiction, emotional neglect, or control.

Good guidance helps a child become more skillful without making the child ashamed of existing.

• A decent adult can tell a child they need practice without telling the child they are foolish for wanting the thing in the first place.
• A decent adult can say a choice has consequences without making the child afraid of wanting anything at all.
• A decent adult can correct conduct without attacking temperament, teach manners without demanding emotional erasure, and warn about the world without teaching the child that the safest life is the smallest one.

Control often borrows the language of guidance. It uses words like protection, discipline, humility, respect, faith, realism, tradition, family, maturity, and concern. Those words can be honorable, sure, but they can also serve as cover for adult fear.

• A parent who never chased their own work may call a child’s ambition unrealistic.
• A bitter adult may call confidence arrogance.
• A frightened adult may call curiosity dangerous.
• A rigid adult may call difference rebellion.
• A jealous adult may call a gifted child difficult because difficulty is easier to admit than envy.

The child may not understand the adult’s motive because children usually cannot audit adult psychology while they are busy surviving it. So, they adjust to the feedback, and learn which parts of themselves bring warmth and which parts bring tension into the room. That is how self-abandonment often begins… with tiny edits. Maybe it’s a little less honesty, a little less volume, a little less joy, a little less visible talent, a little less asking, a little less reaching, or a little less trust in their inner sense of self. After years of that, the adult survivor may call themselves lost and spend half a life searching for an identity that was never absent – it was buried under accommodation.

Adults often call their fear experience and sometimes experience deserves respect. A parent who has survived poverty, abuse, racism, exploitation, addiction, humiliation, violence, or institutional cruelty may carry warnings earned through pain. They may know hazards the child cannot yet understand and their caution may come from real injury, not cruelty. Even then, fear can deform the message.

• A parent afraid of failure may train a child to avoid risk entirely.
• A parent afraid of ridicule may teach a child to hide anything unusual.
• A parent afraid of poverty may mock creative work instead of teaching practical planning.
• A parent afraid of men, women, outsiders, authority, sexuality, religion, success, visibility, or independence may pass that fear down as if it were moral instruction.

The child receives the tone before the explanation. A warning can teach skill – and shame. It depends on whether the adult is helping the child carry reality or forcing the child to carry the adult’s unresolved alarm. This is where childhood injury can become hard to locate later. The adult survivor remembers being warned, corrected, restrained, talked down, talked over, redirected, and protected. They may also remember love, and that mix can make the injury feel disloyal. But love and injury have never required each other’s absence and families demonstrate that every day.

• The parent may have meant to protect the child from disappointment, but child learned to distrust desire.
• The teacher may have meant to enforce order, but the child learned attention was safer than expression.
• The church may have meant to teach humility, but the child learned confidence was sinful.
• The family may have meant to preserve respectability, but the child learned that truth had to be edited for public comfort.

In other words, intent belongs to the adult and impact lives in the child.

Adult jealousy toward children is ugly enough that people prefer softer the narrative: concern, personality conflict, different generations, miscommunication, discipline, the child was difficult, the parent was stressed. Some of that may be accurate but it still leaves out the uncomfortable truths.

• Some adults are threatened by a child’s aliveness.
• A child’s beauty can threaten an insecure mother.
• A child’s talent can irritate a father who gave up too early.
• A child’s intelligence can expose the limits of adults who need to remain superior.
• A child’s moral clarity can make a compromised family feel accused.
• A child’s confidence can offend adults who were trained to hate their own.

Children are not supposed to carry adult envy, but many do. They feel the room tighten when they succeed, learn to report good news carefully, become skilled at shrinking joy so nobody feels challenged by it, and  hide awards, sugarcoat opinions, sabotage themselves, or pretend not to care. They may become adults who instinctively lower their light around certain people before realizing they are doing it. This is not always conscious on the adult’s part but consciousness is not the only way harm travels. A jealous adult may genuinely believe they are humbling the child or preventing arrogance, fantasy, rebellion, or future pain. That only allows the adult to avoid the more humiliating possibility that the child had something the adult could not tolerate seeing.

A child develops self-trust through repeated confirmation that their perceptions, preferences, discomfort, and gifts are allowed to exist. Self-trust does not require adults to agree with every child impulse. It requires adults to treat the child’s inner life as real enough to engage, guide, and protect without ridicule. When that does not happen, the child may begin outsourcing reality. They look to the adult’s face before deciding whether their own reaction is acceptable. They wait for permission to like what they like, they laugh when something hurts because the room expects laughter, they say yes when the body says no, and they choose what brings approval, then later wonder why the achievement feels hollow.

In trauma therapy this often appears as a fractured relationship with preference. The adult survivor may struggle with simple questions:

• What do you want?
• What do you like?
• What feels safe?
• What feels wrong?
• What did you want before everyone told you what made sense?

Those questions can feel strangely threatening because preference once had consequences. Wanting created ridicule, disagreement created withdrawal, talent created pressure, sensitivity created contempt, confidence created correction, and refusal created punishment. The person may become highly skilled at reading others while remaining unfamiliar to themselves. That is the residue of living too long under other people’s edits.

A forensic dimension appears when adults repeatedly override a child’s evidence of their own life. Children may not understand motives, pathology, family systems, coercive control, addiction, or sexual boundary violations with clinical precision. They may still know when something feels wrong. They may know who changes when the door closes, they may know which adult is unsafe, they may know which praise has a hook in it, and they may know when the story being told to outsiders is false.

When adults repeatedly override that evidence, the child learns to distrust observation. They hear that they misunderstood, are exaggerating, that it never happened, that the person did not mean it, that they are being dramatic, that they should be grateful, or that they always make things about themselves. Over time the child may stop arguing with the adult and start arguing with themselves. That inner split can become one of the most damaging leftovers. The child – and later, adult version of themselves – sees something, feels something, knows something, and immediately cross-examines their own perception as if loyalty requires self-doubt. Adults who do this may think they are preserving family peace when they really may be preserving the adult version of events at the child’s expense. The cost shows up later as chronic indecision, over-explaining, excessive apology, difficulty choosing partners, tolerance of mistreatment, fear of being misread, and the strange loneliness of no longer knowing which part of the self to trust. A child talked out of themselves may become an adult who can document everyone else’s behavior but still needs permission to believe their own.

No survivor gets the original self back untouched. Time happened, adaptations happened, and loss happened. Some gifts went underground, some turned into symptoms, some became workarounds, and some were abandoned so long that reclaiming them feels awkward, even embarrassing. Recovery is not an attempt to become the child again. It is the work of sorting inheritance from identity.

• What did I choose?
• What was chosen for me?
• What did I surrender because it was wise?
• What did I surrender because someone was afraid?
• What did I call maturity because I had no room left for desire?
• What part of my personality began as protection?

Those questions require patience because the answers do not arrive grouped nicely together. The survivor may have to test small preferences before naming large ones, may have to notice envy, grief, relief, irritation, and longing without immediately making those feelings wrong, and they may have to revisit old interests without demanding that every lost gift become a career, a mission, or a redemption project.

Sometimes recovery looks almost unimpressive from the outside. Taking the class, wearing the make-up or clothing, saying the honest no, letting the laugh come out unedited, admitting dislike, and trying again at something once mocked. Saying, “I used to love this,” and allowing the sentence to sit there without apology. These acts can look small but they are often places where the original inner signal starts waking up.

At some stage the original adult voices become internal voices. The parent leaves the room, but the correction stays. The teacher is long gone, but the shame remains available. The family no longer has daily access, but the survivor keeps managing an invisible audience. That is how old control survives without supervision. The survivor may dismiss their own interest before anyone else can, they may call themselves ridiculous before someone else does, and they may avoid visibility, softness, ambition, faith, humor, grief, desire, or talent because the old messaging is still on repeat.

Some children were never confused in the way adults later claimed – they were interrupted, steered away from the music, the science, the animals, the writing, the machines, the ministry, the stage, the quiet, the sensitivity, the leadership, the questions, the no, the yes, and the strange little gift that made them feel alive before anyone taught them to be embarrassed by it. They became adults who could function, achieve, parent, serve, work, and survive while still carrying the old suspicion that their unedited self was somehow too much.

Finding the way back is usually a slow process, like removing one old mental soundbite at a time and asking whether it ever belonged to the survivor in the first place. Some people were not born lost – they were talked out of themselves, so the return to the authentic self begins when the adult survivor stops treating that old interruption as wisdom.

Sources 

Bowlby, J. (1988). A secure base: Parent-child attachment and healthy human development. Basic Books.

Erikson, E. H. (1968). Identity: Youth and crisis. W. W. Norton & Company.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and recovery: The aftermath of violence from domestic abuse to political terror. Basic Books.

Miller, A. (1997). The drama of the gifted child: The search for the true self (Rev. ed.). Basic Books.

Perry, B. D., & Szalavitz, M. (2006). The boy who was raised as a dog: And other stories from a child psychiatrist’s notebook. Basic Books.

Winnicott, D. W. (1965). The maturational processes and the facilitating environment: Studies in the theory of emotional development. International Universities Press.

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“Be careful whom you trust; evil cloaks itself in many forms.”

What is love if it doesn’t hurt, or like in my case, crash with a whimper? Perhaps your first crush was like mine? Nick was a 20-something Anglo-Indian with Bobby Deol’s looks, John Travolta’s swagger, and an angelic, disarming purity. We met on a rainy day outside his place; cousin Martin played matchmaker. Me, a rebellious teen with a sassy, blunt bob, shook hands with this shy guy whose guileless grin hit like a thunderbolt. Then he spoke, and it all went downhill — his voice was a bizarre mix of Sachin Tendulkar’s soft drawl and Michael Jackson’s high-pitched lilt. Although I was a die-hard MJ fan, I was gutted. Nope, not my vibe, despite my love for Jacko’s voice.

Jokes aside, all humans are creatures of habit. Our routine is sacrosanct, and so are our friends, family, and community. But what happens if this fragile thread of trust breaks? Much like the Garden of Eden, where roses bloom, you will find thorns. The past is engraved into our DNA as unspoken codes, known as epigenetic trauma.

Trauma from abuse and neglect creates CPTSD, unseen scars that affect both victims and future generations.

The Boomerang!

When you heal from an abusive childhood and CPTSD, it becomes imperative to find opportunities to recover through healthy gene expression by reversing toxic epigenetic patterns. My friend Bella has been through so much pain and trauma; it hurts her even as an adult. Her mother was a stunning single mother living in a small town who attracted many suitors. Unfortunately, she chose an unworthy man, a balding sadist whose charm concealed his vicious nature. Bella, barely 6 years old, immediately recognized that he was someone who made her uncomfortable—a predator in disguise. While her mother, blinded by love, saw his viciousness as humor and his control as love.

The False Pillars of Trust

We all lean on a support system, believing they’ll protect us. But pillars crumble, and Bella’s stepdad was no pillar. Meanwhile, her mother demanded that the siblings call him “Dad” before vows were even exchanged.

This situation resembles those who believe, “if you pretend it doesn’t exist, it will all just blow away!” The red flags were obvious if only her mother had opened her eyes.

The Predator’s Playground

One dusk, in her school playground, after everyone had left, the predator struck, forcing a humiliating punishment for being defiant. Right there before her “mother’s” eyes, he asked the 6-year-old Bella to roll down her pants and air her shame to the elements. If she didn’t abide by the ignominy, her ears would be boxed, taunted, or worse. So the scared little girl did so as speedily as she could, turning 360 degrees in a hurry, lest someone catch a glimpse of her unmentionables and laugh at her disgrace. The bald Lilliputian bully thought it was funny. As time rolled on, he proceeded to demean little Bella every day. So much so that she hated being around her mother or him. Then, finally, one day, the little girl put her foot down and threw a tantrum. As they say, bullies hate being called out.

And so that put a stop to the mortification for some time. But the tormentor found other ways to hurt her. The nightmare grew when he married her mother, finding new ways to subvert—locking up Bella, exploiting her fears and phobias, and thrashing her for minor mistakes. Her sibling stood by her, helpless but loyal, enduring the same.

Their mother never questioned. The sadist thrived on this pain; his cruelty became a twisted game. Bella grew moody and withdrawn, her childhood stolen by a man who cloaked perversion in parenting. Even when the siblings became adults, when he returned from his “overseas job,” his harassment evolved—unwelcome touches, suggestive innuendos, all disguised as fun. Relatives turned a blind eye, abetting the crime with silence. What is worse, we may ask—the predator or those who let him roam unchecked?

Pamela Calls Out the “Peeping Tom”

My friend Pam was eleven when she visited her hometown for a wedding. She stayed at her Uncle John’s mansion. Pam loved playing with her gang of little cousins, stirring mischief amid the wedding chaos. One day, while climbing the mansion roof, they caught her uncle John’s youngest son, Nathan, 16 and notorious, sprawled like a snake, peeping into a bathroom window. Pam’s outraged scream rallied the family, their racket drawing the aunts. Nathan was thrashed, his name forever tainted. Later visits to her uncle John’s had the women bathing with extra caution. Nathan’s married now, but do the ladies in the family trust him? Never.

Father Bob’s Redemption

All my life, I have been inspired by the Australian Roman Catholic priest Father Bob, or Robert John Maguire. He was no stranger to abuse and neglect. Born into poverty, his childhood reeked of alcohol and violence, his father’s fists bruising both mother and son. Orphaned by fifteen, losing his sister to tuberculosis at eleven, Father Bob carried scars deeper than flesh. Yet, those wounds didn’t break him; they forged a priest with a rebel’s heart, a champion for the forgotten. He was a man who turned pain into purpose, serving the marginalized with a fire no abuser could snuff out.

The Unending Trauma: An Anarchist’s Creed

Writing this cuts deep, so I shroud it, shielding the raw ache of my own memories. I’m familiar with darkness. As a paradox of pragmatism and rebellion, I always speak my mind. Life has taught me to confront truths. Scars make us realize that trust is earned. Bella’s challenging childhood didn’t break her; instead, she emerged strong, building a life filled with family, community, and a successful career. She learned to forgive—not just her abusers, but herself. Her journey mirrors that of Father Bob Maguire, whose upbringing in poverty and violence shaped him into an advocate for the marginalized. Both their experiences transformed pain into resilience and empathy.

Rewriting the Epigenetic Script

Epigenetic trauma is a silent phantom in our blood, passing pain across generations. Healing doesn’t erase these scars—it transmutes them, forging resilience, redemption, and forgiveness to break the cycle.

1. Awareness: Name the Ghost. Healing begins by confronting the past.

2. Re-regulating the Body: Alter your stress-related genes through meditation, exercise, and breathwork. This will ease anxiety and calm the nervous system.

3. Rewriting the Narrative: Change your story with therapy to transform from victim to survivor.

4. Crafting a New Epigenetic Landscape: When you regulate your lifestyle, you reshape your genes.

5. Breaking the Karmic Cycle: Exploring advocacy work can help. Many survivors of abuse and rape have found healing in the sharing of stories.

Final Thoughts: The Long Road Ahead

Intergenerational trauma is woven into our DNA through epigenetics and shapes who we become. Researchers have unpacked its neurobiological toll, offering sharp intellectual clarity. As for me, Mark Wolynn’s “It Didn’t Start with You” ignited my own CPTSD journey. Parents and children bear the physical, emotional, and psychological scars of past trauma, linked to disorders like depression, PTSD, and chronic fatigue syndrome.

Animal studies reveal early stress rewires brain regions like the hippocampus, impairing cognition. Science shows us that lifestyle and therapy can shift gene expression. You may not be able to erase your past but you can rewrite your story, and heal your darkest shadows for the generations that come after you. It is time to find your path—whether through art, expression, service, community, reading, or therapy—and rewrite your own destiny.

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.

References and sources:

NCBI

PMC

Psychology Today

Verywell Mind

Johns Hopkins Medicine

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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.

Balancing fatherhood with CPTSD is like life already throwing curveballs, then, bam! Here comes the teenage storm, mood swings and challenges that level up the chaos. It’s next-level circus mayhem.

Teenagers. One minute, you’re bonding over fries, and the next, you’re the villain for simply asking how her day went. It’s a constant juggling act between being a supportive, patient parent and not completely drowning in the emotional rollercoaster that comes with both your own struggles and the ones they’re navigating.

It’s exhausting.

Showing My Daughter How to Handle Big Feelings

But here’s what I’m learning: healing isn’t just something I do for myself. It’s something I do with her in mind. When I take a moment before reacting, when I say, “I’m feeling overwhelmed,” instead of bottling it all up until I snap, I’m showing her how to handle big feelings. I’m modeling emotional resilience, even if I’m doing it in sweatpants with half a bagel in hand.

She may not always show it (those AirPods are practically glued to her ears), but trust me, she’s paying attention. Teens have a sixth sense for emotions. And while I don’t share my trauma scrapbook with her, I do let her see that I’ve been through some stuff. Some days are tough. And being open about that doesn’t make me less of a dad; it makes me more human.

And yeah, I mess up. Regularly. I’ll snap, and I will misread the mood. I’ll forget that sarcasm isn’t the best response to a meltdown over math. But I always circle back. I apologize. I explain. I’ll try to do better next time. That’s not weakness; that’s trust-building in action.

How My Past Shapes My Parenting Choices

Then there are those little moments that make it all worth it: when she laughs at one of my terrible jokes or when we share a meal and she actually talks, really talks. When she surprises me with her insight, compassion, or goofiness. Those moments? They’re everything. They remind me that we’re not just surviving this; we’re building something real.

I’ve been lucky with my daughter. I can’t say I ever went through the “terrible twos” with her. Sure, she had her moments, but she wasn’t a difficult child. So far, she hasn’t been a terrible teenager, either. It’s still early days, but for the most part, she’s been pretty low-maintenance.

However, I’ve come to realize that some of the parenting choices I made were directly influenced by my own childhood experiences. I was probably too protective of her between the ages of 5 and 9, the same years when my abuse occurred. During that time, I struggled deeply, haunted by flashbacks and triggers. I couldn’t understand how anyone could harm a child so young, and I felt an intense need to shield her from all the bad in the world

Facing My Trauma to Be a Better Dad

But no matter what, you still have to hold it together enough to parent. I remember more than one occasion when my daughter was small, and I had to make sure she was safe before removing myself from the situation to break down and let my dysregulated emotions out. Through it all, though, I’ve remained focused on her, ensuring she’s always been and still is my number one priority.

The most valuable lesson I’ve learned since my CPTSD diagnosis is that I couldn’t outrun my trauma, no matter how hard I tried. Instead, I had to confront it, acknowledging the pain and understanding that healing takes time. The best decision I made as a parent was to seek help and start therapy. Facing my trauma was the most important thing I could do for my daughter, and in doing so, it has allowed us both to have a father-daughter relationship that I cherish.

Parenting and Healing: It’s All Part of the Journey

I will continue to raise my daughter with my own self-awareness, which, in turn, helps her adapt to the struggles she will face in life. At the end of the day, I’m doing the best I can, and I can only hope that I’m the father for her that I never had, and that I’ll continue to make her proud.

So to the other moms and dads out here doing the tightrope act, balancing healing, parenting, and trying not to lose your mind in the cereal aisle, I see you. You’re not alone. You’re doing something incredibly hard and incredibly important.

Take the win when it comes. Celebrate the small stuff. Apologize when you need to. And don’t forget to laugh, even if it’s just at how wildly unqualified we all feel some days.

We are all doing better than we think.

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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.

Grandma Clare, my stepmother, is a narcissist. Over the past decade, I have set boundaries and distanced my family from her emotionally abusive behavior.

“It would be weird for the average person to invite their twenty-two-year-old granddaughter, who still lives at home with her father, mother, and younger sister, over for a birthday celebration while not inviting the rest of the family,” I acknowledged. “But unfortunately, it’s classic Grandma Clare behavior. She doesn’t typically consider other peoples’ feelings.”

“So, should I go,” Harper asked. “I’d like to see Grandma and Grandpa; it just feels strange going by myself.”

I encouraged my daughter to go to dinner and spend time with her Grandparents since she wanted to see them. Even though my stepmother was self-centered and manipulative, Harper’s had a decent relationship with them over the years, and I always fostered that for her sake. Harper was the first-born grandchild, so Clare was fond of her. Sadly, the novelty wore off when my second daughter, Abby, was born, and Clare has mostly ignored her.

When Harper came home from dinner, she had half a birthday cake.

“Grandma insisted I take the rest of the cake home,” Harper told us. “I told her no thank you a few times, but she pretty much forced me to take it.”

Harper filled me in on some updates about her cousins and said it was mostly an enjoyable time, with a handful of awkward silences. I smiled and told her that I was glad she enjoyed the dinner.

After Harper left the kitchen I looked at the half-cake sitting on the counter with a lump in my throat. Clare makes that cake for everyone, for every birthday. It was the cake I had for each of my birthdays throughout middle school and high school. And even though I am the one who opted to go low contact with that side of my family, looking at that cake brought me to tears.

It triggered a mix of emotions in me. I felt hurt and anger from being reminded of my tumultuous teenage years growing up without my own mother, who had passed away, and being raised by a stepmother who didn’t care much for me, to put it mildly. I also experienced resentment because I’d done a lot of work to heal and grow, putting boundaries in place to protect myself and my family, and it could all be shaken by something as absurd as a cake. I was surprised by grief, a sense of mourning the loss of my relationship with the family I grew up in.

My husband walked into the kitchen as I was about to leave, “Are you okay?”

I told him what was going on and said, “I don’t want Harper to see me upset, I’m glad she has a relationship with them. It just hurts to see that cake, the cake that was a part of the family that I used to be a part of, but I’m not anymore.”

Harper was coming back towards the kitchen and overheard us talking, and a few days later, she approached me. We talked about the cake and Grandma Clare.

“At first, I thought Grandma was just trying to be nice by having me take the cake home,” Harper said. “But after hearing you and Dad talk, I had a conversation with my friend Emma about it. You know Emma’s a psych major, right? She said it sounded like triangulation.” Harper went on to tell me she looked it up and read about how triangulation is used to play favorites and pit one person against another so that the manipulator feels a sense of control and supremacy.

“I think Grandma may have had me take the cake home on purpose to get to you,” she disclosed. “I know that sounds like a bit much, but I tried to tell her I didn’t want the cake, and she literally made me take it home.” Harper continued, “And then hearing how it did upset you made me think that may have been her intention. I know you don’t really talk to her anymore, so the only way she can bother you now is through other people. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Harper, you have nothing to apologize for,” I reassured. “Her psychologically abusive behavior is the reason I opted for low contact all of those years ago. She tends to pull in her favored kids and grandkids close while snubbing the ones she doesn’t like as much. Sending you home with cake certainly could have been her way of showing me what I’m missing. Her using you to bring something home that would get a reaction out of me does sound like a triangulation tactic,” I admitted. “But it’s also a good reminder that we can engage with her if and when we want to, yet we do not have to succumb to her ploys of manipulation. Doing what we’re doing right now, communicating openly with each other, will hopefully shut down future attempts to influence us. Instead, we can dismiss them as her pitiful attempts to feel superior to others.”

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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.

The Advent Season

The build-up to the Christmas season is what Christians call the Advent Season. It is usually four weeks and a few days before Christmas Day to prepare and get ready for the holidays. As each week goes by, a candle is lit, and the Sunday before Christmas is the day when we have four lit candles on our dinner table and in our living room. The final fifth candle is to mark Christmas Day. The day that 2,000 or so years ago, Christ was born in Bethlehem. Those weeks of advent can be extraordinarily busy for some people. If you have a family with young children, there is always the build-up of anticipation and excitement for Santa Claus to come. Kids may have an advent calendar to mark off the day by opening one window with a chocolate or small toy treat inside. We decorate our houses with Christmas trees, decorations and tinsel and maybe even put a Christmas wreath on the front door. We light up our houses inside and out to make our homes bright and cheerful. My own kids have been vibrating with excitement and energy for about a month now, and everyone is tired but happy. Keeping the kids busy before the holidays is always a challenge because if you live in the northern hemisphere, it is also getting dark early. I usually bake and do craft activities with my kids, and the board games come out in the evenings. We make gingerbread men and Christmas toffees and also build toy models out of wood or Legos. I get my guitar and flute out and play Christmas carols with my kids and their friends. It is a time for us to gather as a family after a busy day at work and school and be together. We light the advent candles before dinner each night and cozy up as the day folds into darkness. Traditionally, where we live, our kids do a Christmas pageant, a Christmas talent show, or a nativity play in our elementary and middle schools. Every state and county has different traditions. At work, there are usually Christmas parties, dinners, and drinks to celebrate another year gone by and to wish everyone a happy Christmas.

Families are usually spread out and no longer living in the same cities and towns as we used to do 100 years ago. There are always people in the family who have to travel. Some of us usually travel far and wide to visit with family over the Christmas holidays. Airports, freeways, buses, and trains are fully booked just before the holiday starts. Retail businesses are also unbelievably busy before the holiday begins, with grocery stores, food markets, and other retail businesses bursting at the seams with food, Christmas presents, and all you can think of to buy. You can buy pretty much anything before Christmas. If you are in marketing, you will have been campaigning for weeks to get customers to buy the products you are selling. Delivery vans are speeding up and down the streets to deliver parcels and gifts to people everywhere. The Christmas holiday season is big business.

Celebrating Christmas

Christmas Eve arrives, and time slows down. People have all their loved ones in one place, and all the decorations and gifts have been bought and wrapped. Most countries in Europe and Asia celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve. All Christians have their own traditions of food, drinks, treats, and the time they exchange their gifts. It is as individual as our faces, and all families are slightly different in the way they celebrate. What we all have in common is that we have come to spend time together. It is a precious time of year. In the US, UK, and Australia, we celebrate Christmas on Christmas Day. That is the day we have our Christmas dinner and exchange gifts. It is a day when our Christmas table is filled with happy faces and joy as we share Christmas food and laughter around the table. We always have our “emergency chairs” come out from the cupboard as we don’t normally have 12 people around the table. If you are religious, you may go to church on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day or maybe one of them, depending on when you can fit everything into the day. When it is time to exchange gifts, we gather together in one room and often spend hours laughing and enjoying each precious gift. The kids get so excited about their presents as there is a flurry of wrapping paper and tape that gets catapulted around the room with whoops of joy and happiness. It is all part of Christmas – sharing joy and happiness.

Not everyone has got family at Christmas. I used to be one of them because I chose to move away from my own family due to abuse. It was my choice and the right one for me. Christmas can be a very lonely time, and if you are one of those survivors who do not have family, I think of you. I hope that wherever you are in your healing journey, you keep well and take some time for yourself. Spend some time with a friend and in a happy place. Try not to be alone for the whole day. Look after yourself and know that you do matter and you are not alone. There is a new year just a few days away with an endless amount of opportunities and possibilities. The future is always bright.

I wish you all a happy and joyful Christmas!

With Love,

Elizabeth

Photo by Yevhen Buzuk 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.

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.

Mom’s Womb

Our first home/ environment, as a little seed slowly growing into a little human, is the mother’s womb. It is the first place of connection and of safety. A loving and caring nest. Ideally, the mother is well supported and cared for during the 9 months of gestation. Realistically, it isn’t always the case. Expectant mothers are always told to reduce any stress and to take it easy. Unfortunately, some mothers work full – time and not a lot of employers are willing to bring more flexibility to accommodate their expectant employers. For decades, being pregnant, meant women lost their job. Other women are so used to living under the constant pressure of doing more, of keeping forever busy and carrying on as normal, that they don’t give themselves the time to slow down. Those who don’t work, for whatever reasons, are being judged as lazy, work-shy and are accused of wanting an easy life on benefits. In other words: the society we live in, doesn’t allow for peaceful and stress-free pregnancies. It doesn’t honour and respect mothers or their children.

Once outside the womb, mothers are told that, as long as they feed, burp, and change nappies, they can put down their newborn baby and let her cry herself to sleep, to teach the infant to self-soothe. The post-natal physical and emotional discomfort and pain, are minimised if not ignored. There are so many contradicting points of view, unsolicited opinions and medical advice, new mothers are often overwhelmed. Everyone has something to say about us and our children but, not often do we hear: “ How are you? How can I help?” So many mothers are left feeling alone and end up labelling themselves as “bad mothers”, for so many months! We often hear: “But, you are a mother now, you have all the love in the world! How can you be so unhappy?” “Stop crying, you are going to upset the child!” Not often are we given the love and support we so need, at this crucial moment, following birth.

The human brain doesn’t fully grow within the womb so this little head can squeeze through the birth canal. The rest of its growth will happen, rapidly throughout their childhood, especially, during the first year of life. What will facilitate the healthy growth of a child? A loving, caring, protective and reliable anchor: mother. Referring to Dr Gabor Mate, he expresses the view that, mothers and children need to spend another nine months, in an outside womb, where both can bond and thrive together. Unfortunately, work is the priority. It isn’t so long ago, that fathers were allowed paternal leave, which is so necessary for them to bond with their babies, sure. But, to support the mother, so, she can sleep, heal, and focus on nursing and bonding with her child. Maternal Leave varies from country to country, but it is a disgrace that after a mere few months, it is time to give our children up to babysitters, child-minders, and nurseries. Strangers. All childcare options are very expensive, and it is often not worth it for the mother to go back to work, as most of the paycheck goes to paying those fees.

Moms are still facing a huge amount of pressure to do more and be more

The stress of getting up extra early in the morning to drop the child off at nursery/childminder, to, then, run to catch the train. Working 8 hours or more, to rush back, at the end of the day, to collect the child, on time so as not to be charged extra. On top of these, there are dinners to be made and bedtime routines. It is hard for women in partnerships (Women tend to take care of most of the house chores after work) It is even harder for single women. If mothers aren’t working, they are still facing a huge amount of pressure to do more and be more, as if to prove their worthiness to a society that belittles and judges them brutally. We are the only species who must prioritise working for a living and sacrifice precious, vital time with our little ones. Financial stress, poverty, constant put-downs and early separation from the baby, are all hindrances to the mother’s happiness and well-being, which in turn, will have an adverse effect on infants.

What all of this has to do with issues of mental health? Everything! When, for whatever reason, children and mothers have little chance to bond, children will grow up with so-called “Disorders” and other difficulties, later, in their lives. A child doesn’t have to be rejected or abused to be impacted: a very stressed mother/household is enough to alter the child’s brain pathways hindering emotional maturity. Sadly, children who grew up in abusive and neglectful households, suffer terribly and then they are pathologized, and labelled as if their behaviour was independent of the environment, they lived in. Adult survivors are facing the same challenges. In cases of addictive behaviour, for instance, the adult is referred to as an addict and the focus is solely on getting rid of the addiction. It is seldom the case that they are supported in exploring and supported in facing their painful childhood.  We can see the stigma linked to BPD diagnosis: it acknowledges people diagnosed with BPD most often comes from an abusive background, but the emphasis is on the symptoms – the “disordered” behaviour: anger, addictions, incapable of regulating one’s emotions, rebellious. Dangerous to oneself and to others. It is all about what is wrong with the individual, never about what happened to them, in the environment they grew up in. No, they can’t regulate their impulses: their brain and their entire nervous system has been hijacked a long time ago, and without a nurturing, caring and safe environment to explore their inner self, these people will suffer for a while. It is not just the case for BPD, it is the same for CPTSD, PTSD, Bi-Polar Disorder…  Different symptoms, but the same root: lack of love, lack of bonding, and lack of unconditional positive regard in their lives.

It is easier, it seems, to blame the individual than to seek real solutions, based on tolerance, compassion and congruence

Survivors of child abuse hear: “The abuse wasn’t your fault BUT your recovery is your own responsibility. Nobody can do that for you” To some extent, yes, however, a little support goes a long way. By support, I mean person–centred support. Kind and caring support. This includes a safe society. In the UK, for the last 12 years, there has been a tragic increase in the persecution of unemployed people, who are often very unwell, physically, or mentally, sometimes both. In recovery circles, we are encouraged to take our time with healing, to be gentle and understanding of ourselves for needing so much rest, for not being able to work and, at the same time, we are asked to attend Work Assessment Programs. We are threatened with sanctions. We are shamed and blamed at every corner.  Society, right now, isn’t safe. The world we live in is very threatening and scary. It is easier, it seems, to blame the individual than to seek real solutions, based on tolerance, compassion and congruence. 

“In our society, that attachment is cut to shambles. A significant percentage of American women go back to work within two weeks of giving birth. Moms are meant to be with their kids for years, I’m done with nature here. And so when women are economically forced to return to work, that separation from the mother is huge for the child. And so children have this attachment drive, but there’s nothing in the child’s brain that tells the child who to attach to. It’s like the duckling that hatches from the egg. And preferentially will imprint on a mother duck if the mother duck is there. But it’s a minute that is not there. The duckling will imprint on anything that moves, including a mechanical toy that can possibly nurture it.”

The Secret to Healthy Child Development with Dr Gabor Mate

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 terrible childhood but it never once deterred me in my longing for kids.  I always wanted kids of my own. I wanted to show the world that I knew how to get it right. I was not going to be an abusive parent no matter how much I was abused. I was sure of myself and confident that I could give kids a good childhood. I was not my parents. Abuse and trauma stopped with my parents. That is why I cut them out of my life and started again. It was my revenge and gift to the future generation to be a normal loving human being. I have written in a previous blog on how to get to parenthood. This is not an easy journey for someone who has suffered abuse, even for the most determined! Read my previous blog: “Creating a family after abuse”.

Fight for what is right

After years of trying for a baby, and suffering a miscarriage, I finally held my perfect baby in my arms. My entire world changed and I promised my precious miracle that I would be the perfect mom. The mom, I wished I had had. My son gave me and my husband a lot of joy but also heartache as he had lots of medical issues during his first year. I found I had to fight like never before to get him the right medicines no matter if they were expensive or not. It took going up against doctors and other medical practitioners as well as insurance companies. My son’s life was worth every fight and our insurance would cover it no matter what it cost us in the future. Our medical insurance soared but I didn’t care. I would worry about it once my son was healthy and stopped vomiting every hour of every day. As my son got better with the right medicines, he finally grew. We decided to give him a sibling so he always had a mate growing up. We thought it would take us years to get pregnant again but we were wrong. I fell pregnant immediately. It was the most ecstatic feeling I had ever felt! Two babies after years of not being able to conceive! The age gap was only a year and they became inseparable, almost like twins.  I was so thankful at my two miracles, I didn’t care about the medical obstacles in our way. In a way it brought my husband closer to me to help take care of our kids.

I had to give up my job for a little while as my youngest also had medical problems but of a different kind. They were serious but not life-threatening. I once again fought for my youngest baby to get the expensive medical interventions that he needed to be healthy. I found my inner roaring “mama bear”, harassing doctors and “know it all’s” to get my baby the right treatment. Without it, he would have been profoundly deaf for the rest of his life. That was unthinkable for me and my husband who knew that if he got the treatment, he could have his hearing. I never knew I had such a strong sense of love and strength within me but I found that easily when it came to my kids. I was a force of nature and I got people to listen. I had never stood up for myself before that. It changed my kids lives completely and I have two healthy children now.

Have you ever in your life had to stand up for something, to right a wrong? How did it feel to get people to listen to you and help? It feels good, right? It is an incredible feeling for someone who has suffered abuse because we had no voice. To be able to get listened to and hear is nothing but incredible. 

Enjoying a rich and happy childhood

My kids had endured so much medical drama in their first years. Once we finally had our youngest son’s precious hearing restored, we started breathing a little easier. Both kids were on the way to recovery. My son could hear us and he could express himself to us and his friends. It was a miracle to hear his little voice! My oldest son had stopped vomiting every hour of every day. Life was getting easier and we could do normal things like swimming lessons. Something that was unthinkable a few months back. I never once stopped marvelling at how exciting and amazing the world was to my kids. I started seeing it through their eyes and let them explore and have fun whilst I watched nearby to keep them safe. Who knew that a funny shaped rock could be a source of such fun? That a worm could cause such giggles and laughter just because it moved in a funny way. I never knew that a simple stick could become a treasured toy for a day in the forest. We could finally take our kids outdoors without having to bring a truckload of spare clothes and medicines with us. We could stay out for picnics in the forest or the park with our friends. We could go visit with friends and family in other states. It gave us a freedom and boy did we grasp it fully!

“It takes a community to raise a child”.

I started going everywhere with the kids. We went out in all weathers. I wrapped my kids up in the snow and rain and let them explore puddles and build snowmen. I let them have time on the beach and play in the sand. It opened up our world so much now that we could go out for longer. We could go to the zoo and the local farms. My kids learned about animals and their world opened up more and more to new adventures. My babies grew into toddlers and life became a different challenge in the way that they were both on the move. They would go in different directions at heart-breaking speeds and in no fear of dangers around them. I developed “mom vision” aka “360degree eyesight” to keep up with them. Failing that, I had trusted moms and dads scattered around the room or play areas who would look out for the kids. Kids have a way of doing the most unexpected at the worst possible times and you just have to go with it. I learned very quickly that abrupt bodily functions, accidents and emergency trips to the ER were just part of life with two toddlers. There wasn’t a day with a “y” in it that we didn’t have some kind of drama. As a young mom you meet other moms and dads when you are in parks and play areas. You have kids in common and it is a big ice-breaker in conversations. You can also lean on others through the ups and downs of childhood. Your friends have likely had “one of those days” too and can give their advice. Kids seem to attract each other too and strike up immediate friendships anywhere – yes, even in the restroom whilst washing our hands next to another mom and kids! Our social friendship circle almost tripled once we started taking the kids out more. You’d be amazed at the conversations I have had over the sandbox or in the playpark whilst watching my kids play. Most of my friends and their kids were the same. We all took it in our stride and laughed it away as we told our most recent stories of life with a toddler in it. There were some tears too. It was parenthood and we embraced it back when we had no idea that this was what it was going to be like.

Having a support network of others in a similar situation was a big help for me when my kids were young. Do you have a support network around you who can help you? Is there anyone you can call on when you have a bad day?

Sports and Adventure parks

As the kids grew and started school, we ended up in a whirlwind of new activities. It certainly tested my boundaries and fears. Sports were the next step. There was little league, soccer, basketball, swimming, hockey, track and badminton. We have tried every sport imaginable with and without our friends with kids. My kids carry on with some sports and find more friends and with those friends are their parents who in turn become my friends. We go to each other’s houses and parties and it becomes a new way of living, all because we have kids at similar ages. I encourage my kids to join in any new classes and opportunities because why not? How else are you going to know what you like or don’t like?

I got talked into taking the kids to a rock-climbing place with some friends. As the door opened, the pop music was pumping through the PA system. There were kids and parents everywhere. There were squeals of joy and happiness all around me. After less than 5 minutes, my kids were happily settled into the climbing area with their gear on, listening to the instructor. I nodded to another two moms who waved me over and we struck up our conversation as we watched our kids start climbing. Whoah, that is high! My kids, completely unfazed by the sheer drop beneath their little feet as they push on higher with excitement plastered all over their faces. “Look, mom!” “No, mom, look at me, I’m higher than him”! Says my youngest, never to be beaten by his brother. They just don’t feel the fear. I watch them with a nervous smile. They know I’m scared and yet they try and prove to me how safe rock climbing is. I try not to push my fear onto them. I give my kids all the experiences that I never got to do. Some of them, like climbing scare the life out of me but my kids love it. I still have a lot of years in me and I get to watch the confidence and happiness in my own kids as they grow up.

Having kids has changed my world for the better. It has not only changed me but also in how I see the world. I get a do-over in life. I get to do “childhood” again, the way it is supposed to be. Childhood is a precious gift, a right of passage into adulthood. It is a really important time in our lives when we discover who we are and make sense of our world and how we fit into it. I always thought I knew what childhood was like through the lives that I observed in my friends families. I found out that it can be so much more. I know I still have lots of challenges ahead that goes with bringing up kids. I am sure that there will be more “rock-climbing” type activities ahead but I look forward to it all. Bring it on! For my kids, the sky is the limit!

I have discovered a true life contentment that I never knew I was missing. I am a survivor.

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.