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/

I had a weird tension in me about it

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

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

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

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

And my safe place is safe again.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

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

Adina Lynn LeCompte

Adina Lynn LeCompte is a sixth-generation Californian. After having lived in varying parts of the US and abroad in Florence, Italy, she has come home to roost, splitting her time between the Central Coast and the Foothills of Yosemite. She holds her Bachelors of Arts from UCLA (Language & Linguistics), her Master of Arts from Middlebury College School Abroad / Universita’ di Firenze (Language & Literature), and studied 4 years in the MDiv program at Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado. Over the years, she founded several successful local businesses and worked as an interfaith hospital and hospice chaplain.

Adina is a working writer, an award-winning poet, and is working on her upcoming book “Spilling Ink: Write Your Way Into Healing”. Additionally, she has designed an interactive transformative workshop by the same name that uses writing as a tool for healing from trauma, especially abuse and grief. She is also co-author of several compilations of poetry with her husband, John LeCompte, who is also a writer. (“With These Words, I Thee Wed: Love Poetry” was published in 2023.)

Her most recent exciting endeavor is being a part of the Bay Path Univeristy’s MFA program in Creative Nonfiction, with an emphasis in Narrative Medicine.

writeyourwayintohealing.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

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

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

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

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

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

Jennifer Kindera

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

www.jenniferkindera.com

***TRIGGER WARNING: This article discusses abuse. ***

What is Enmeshment?

Enmeshment describes a relationship pattern between two people or a group of people in which personal boundaries are unclear. It is a hallmark of dysfunctional families and affects relationships inside and outside the family. Inside the family, personhood is not encouraged nor respected. Outside the family, people-pleasing compulsions can be crippling. Survivors of enmeshed systems struggle with a sense of self and may find it difficult to assert themselves. The boundary crossing is done in secret and can be emotional as well as physical. 

How does enmeshment happen?

Enmeshment behaviors are learned patterns of relating and are passed down from one generation to another. Grooming for enmeshment begins in early childhood. One by one, perpetrators cross natural boundaries, and when the victim protests, they are punished. Adult perpetrators do not see the child as an individual but as an extension of themselves to do with as they please.  

As a four-year-old, I remember how enraged my mentally ill mother became whenever I sucked my thumb. She was like a strangling vine that could sense whenever you were near. Her need for control and lack of ability to bond made her especially hard to cope with. 

At four years old, I once hid behind the couch in order to escape her all-seeing eye. Sticking my thumb into my mouth, I was at the very edge of slumber when her scream startled me awake.

“REBEKAH!”

My mother’s voice was always a mixture of panic combined with rage pitched high enough to cause terror. Her claw-like hand reached behind the couch and grabbed my thin arm, hitting my head against the wall as she yanked.

“I TOLD YOU TO STOP SUCKING THAT THUMB!” She gave me a hard shake. I froze. Dragging me to the kitchen, she screamed. “YOU STAND RIGHT THERE.” Rummaging through the cabinet, she knocked a bottle of cooking oil to the floor. She glared at me. “I’VE TOLD YOU AND TOLD YOU TO STOP SUCKING THAT THUMB!” Her attention turned to her search. “WHERE IS THAT PEPPER OIL?” She finally pulled out a little bottle with a red eye-dropper on the top. “Here it is. Stick out your hands.”

Unscrewing it, she covered my small thumbs with the noxious oil. For several days whenever my thumb touched my mouth, my lips and tongue felt like they were on fire. As a child, it was so hard for me to understand why my thumb-sucking bothered her so much. She used terror, cruelty, and shame in order to control. I was not allowed to have a thought, or an opinion, or even to exist as a separate person. 

On another occasion, a group of ladies from our church were visiting for an AVON party. I joined the circle in an attempt to fit in. They were so beautiful dressed in their fancy hats and high-heeled shoes. My mother sensed my pleasure and proceeded to shame me in front of the group. 

“You won’t believe what Rebekah keeps doing,” she snickered. “It’s the cutest thing.” I stared at the floor. “Rebekah keeps taking her clothes off.” The other ladies tittered. My mother continued. “I don’t know why that child keeps doing that. She’s so hard-headed. She takes them off and runs around outside for everyone to see.” Encouraged by the nervous giggles, my mother held up a photo album. “Look, I took pictures.”

The album was passed from person to person. A few ladies tried to smile, but as the album made the rounds, things became more and more awkward. I interpreted the glances coming my way as accusations. I realize now, it was probably pity.

The album came to me. There I was, in picture after picture completely naked, standing in my front yard with my ugly shaved head holding my clothes as far away from my body as I could get them. The image of my face is burned into my memory. It was the very picture of devastation and shame.

I had begun to take my clothes off shortly after being molested by alcoholic neighbors across the street. My mother also committed sexual abuse against me. In distress, I had begun to pull out my hair. My mother shaved my head in response. I had no say over my body or what was done to me. I was a non-person.

The naked pictures were brought out again and again over the next several months. Everyone who visited our house got to see them. Finally pushed over the edge one Saturday morning, I waited for my mother to be busy outside. Sneaking down the stairs, I quietly took the scissors, got the photo album, and hid in my bedroom closet. Pulling out every single naked picture, I cut them into shreds. 

Just as I finished the last one, my mother jerked the closet door open. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Though my heart jumped, in this one instance, her anger was not enough to stop me. I did not care if she beat me. I did not care if she killed me. It was worth it. No one would ever see those pictures again. 

My mother’s reaction was strange. Instead of rage, an odd look of sadness crossed her face. She reached down and picked up the album. “I really liked those pictures,” she said. And you know what? In her twisted mind, I think she really did. 

She turned to leave. “Clean that mess up and throw it in the trash.”

The boundary crossing grew worse as I became an adolescent. When I needed to buy my first bra, I had to take all my clothes off in the changing room while my mother watched. Memories of her sexual abuse of me in early childhood came racing back. It was horrible. So much shame. But I was helpless to do anything about it. 

My mother was so uncomfortable with sex and sexuality, she tried to keep me neutered for as long as possible, insisting I wear dresses that made my twelve-year-old body look like a five-year-old. Until I was eighteen, she picked out everything I wore down to my underwear. It made my skin crawl. 

When I started my period, my mother gleefully announced it to any and all who would listen. Cupping her hand to her mouth she pretended to whisper the news, making sure I overheard every single word. I could go on and on and on about her strange boundary-crossing behavior.

The point is that enmeshment is forced upon a victim in the same way a person is brainwashed in a prison camp. There is no one to help. There is no way to get away. And it is the only thing you know. You are reduced to Stockholm syndrome—you actually have feelings of trust and affection the same way a victim of kidnapping or hostage-taking feels towards a captor in order to survive. And notice the way my mother’s reactions are unpredictable.

Sometimes she beats me in a rage, other times there’s no reaction at all. You might be punished for doing nothing or not punished for disobeying. This is also part of the brain-washing technique and instills a deep fear in the victim keeping them off-balance at all times. 

Even as an adult, my abusive parents did not allow boundaries. They no longer had access to my body, but they manipulated my emotions just the same because the groundwork had been laid. I spent most of my life trying to figure out a way to please them, until exhausted, I began to pull away.

Abusers will not give you permission to have boundaries. you have to take them, and it’s going to be hard.

The beginning of a sense of self starts when you say NO not only with words but more importantly, with actions. In my case, my own inner voice had been so abused, I could not speak up to my parents even after I was grown. It wasn’t so much that I was weak, but that their brainwashing still had too much power. So I deferred to the most powerful option there is. No contact. To their dying breath, my parents never came to an understanding of the truth. They had no self-awareness and there was no capitulation on any front.

Defy trauma by setting up a boundary. Embrace joy by having a sense of self in the world. If I can do it, so can you. You are worth saving.

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.

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.

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

Susan Morris

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

susanfrancesmorris.com

Practice breaking contact with toxic parents in this

“Choose Your Own Adventure”-style story.

Based on events experienced by the child of a narcissistic parent.

CONGRATULATIONS! After a lifetime of narcissistic abuse, you’ve decided to draw a healthy boundary by going “No Contact” with your parents. Of course, going “No Contact” feels anything but healthy because the fear they instilled in you from birth caused a TRAUMA BOND.

TRAUMA BOND (often referred to as Stockholm Syndrome). When your abuser is also the one who consoles you and provides your basic needs, a hormone develops that confuses abuse for love.

Section 13

Jamie Donmoyer

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

What is the difference between conflict and trauma? 

Trauma is an emotional response to an intense event that threatens or causes harm.

Conflict means to clash with someone or something. An example of conflict is to disagree with someone over opposite opinions.

I joined a silver jewelry crafting club near where I live. Because I am disabled, I have to use a wheelchair. The club is not configured for wheelchairs. In fact, I was forced to park the chair next to the door to gain access to certain parts of the room. Instead of helping me, other club members complained. The wheelchair blocked their access to the door (even though there were double doors.) I drove the wheelchair too fast. I wasn’t careful backing up. I was in the way of the machines. And on and on and on. Some of these things were said to my face, others reached me second-hand. Feeling deeply betrayed, instead of embracing the conflict, going to the club president, and figuring out a solution, I fled. The truth was, some of the complaints were selfish. But some were simple logistics. I interpreted them all through the lens of trauma. 

Conflict is an inevitable part of life. Trauma is not. You can have conflict without creating trauma. The terrible past lessons drive many survivors to give up and live in isolation. It makes sense. We have been hurt by the people closest to us—family. It stands to reason we would be suspicious of friendships. The church has hurt us. The institution that if operating correctly, should most closely mimic a healthy family. Over and over our experience has taught us that the thing that is supposed to offer the most protection, has been the source of our worst betrayal. How do we stop isolating and find the courage to reach for healing relationships? The following three tips may help.

1. Accept that conflict is normal

The goal of friendship is not to avoid conflict. The goal of true friendship is to avoid dysfunction and manage conflict. 

2. Practice managing your own triggers and emotions

When there is conflict, survivors will be tempted to go immediately to the dark side. Self-hatred, terror, fight or flight. This leads to one of two places. Enmeshment or abandonment. Managing triggers and emotions with a clear head is a learned skill. It takes time and practice. 

3. Learn how to be honest

Our families taught us that safety was found in lies. Go along to get along. Appease the narcissist in charge. That is not friendship. We have to learn how to separate human frailty from narcissism. Being honest with a narcissist will get you nowhere except more pain. Being honest with a friend deepens the relationship

The last suggestion sums up all the others. Know when to walk away. Both from yourself and from other people. Words have tremendous power and despite apologies, are the one thing you can never take back. If you feel yourself, going to the “dark side,” triggers and emotions are running the show. STOP. Take a break and let the situation breathe. Remember, every time you take a step towards healing, no matter how small, you defy trauma and embrace joy. 

Contact the author at:

https://authorrebekahbrown.com/

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

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.

I could hear the yelling outside despite the fact that I was in the house with the door closed. My husband was on a cell phone with my trauma-bonded abuser. They weren’t on speaker either. I could still hear every word. Cultivated over many decades, this was the “mother of all trauma bonds” pun intended. I had reached a point of such desperation, there were two choices left. Die or go no contact. 

Every single part of me demanded I stay in the relationship. Fear, obligation, guilt, self-hatred, confusion, self-doubt, longing, sorrow. Every emotion was wrapped around this one decision. I was about to end all hope of ever being loved, of ever-changing the past, of ever being understood. I looked into the abyss. I was never going to get my abuser’s approval. They were never, ever, ever going to change.

The voice on the other end of the phone screeched. “How dare you get in the way of me!” they said to my husband. “SHE BELONGS TO ME!”

And there it was. My abuser had accidentally revealed the truth. To them, I was nothing more than property. Just a repository for all their angst, dysfunction, sadness, anxiety, anger and frustration. Without me, they would be forced to face their own life, the one thing they couldn’t and wouldn’t do. They demanded I stay.

The realization that the only way I could ever get them to stop was to leave came crashing down. It was the last thing I wanted to do and it was the only thing I could do.

Breaking trauma bonds are not always as dramatic as this. Sometimes you can coexist with a narcissist by going “Grey Rock.” Make no response, sharing nothing personal keep all interaction surface. Becoming a “Grey Rock” whenever that person is around. But some times, trauma bonds are so powerful and so destructive, they must be completely annihilated in order for the victim to live. 

It took a long time. I had to wade through terrible guilt and crushing fear. But after awhile, I realized I wasn’t going to be destroyed because I said no. The world did not end because I walked away. And the main thing I learned? The power my abuser held over me was nothing but a lie. I was the one with power. The power to believe the truth. The power to take action and the power to walk away.

That’s how you break a trauma bond—

1.Believe the truth

2. Take action

3.Protect yourself

Defy Trauma! Embrace Joy!

You may contact the author at: defytraumaembracejoy.com

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

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.

After another disastrous relationship and an even more disastrous break-up, I was left alone, hurt and terrified. I also became homeless as I was preparing to move in with this person. I was really unwell. I felt suicidal. I overdosed a few times, once enough to go to A&E. I was feeling worthless, stupid, and broken, and even though, this relationship was over (I terminated it) I was still hoping, wishing we would start over. At one point, I was back in touch with him and sent letters, and texts. I even stopped by his house. I allowed it a couple of times. There was kissing. I also looked at his new girlfriend’s Facebook page, on a regular basis.

I first attended CODA (Co-dependent Anonymous) meetings. “Hi, I am Sylvie and I am Co-dependent” It was a great help. I wasn’t alone anymore. I met other people who, like me, were finding it difficult to build loving and healthy relationships. Then, I found “Love Addicts Anonymous” and became an online member. “Hi, I am Sylvie and I am a Love Addict.” Both groups were often referring to “defects of characters.” such as pleasing others, neglecting one’s needs, over-controlling tendencies, etc. At the time though, I was so happy to find this latest group. I truly believed I was an addict and I needed to get rid of my “illness” I thought by focusing on the symptoms, I could cure myself of these impulses. I felt so ashamed of this part of me who was ready to do anything to have someone by her side and, then, to keep this person close no matter what. I really believed that, with my love and acceptance, I could help my ex-partners to heal (change) I was ashamed of this little girl in me needing too much love. I ended up hating myself and wanting to die.

What I didn’t understand was that, all these beliefs and my actions were the same I used to survive a childhood empty of love and full of (sexual, emotional, and physical) violence: pleasing, ready to do anything for another person,  this determination to love someone into recovery, the excuses I gave for mistreatments, were all “strategies” to be loved and cared for. As for the gnawing, desperate need for love: it was/ is the natural need of a child for the love of her mother. I was born with this desire to die: from the moment my mother learned she was pregnant, she didn’t want me. She already despised my existence. Growing up in her (hostile) womb, I didn’t want to be here. I knew I wasn’t welcomed. I then felt suicidal for most of my life. 

What is “Attachment Trauma”?  Alan Robarge, Attachment-Focused Psychotherapist, and Relationship Educator:

“Are you repeating old hurts in new relationships? It’s possible you’ve inherited a relationship template and operating system from childhood that’s proving unreliable and outdated. Attachment injuries, despite your best intentions, are hijacking how you pick partners and manage intimacy today. This old operating system has a name. It’s called insecure attachment.

 For some of us, it’s better-labeled attachment trauma(…)”

It is important to point out, that these outdated behaviours are, as Alan Robarge puts it, hijacking our mind: we act without thinking because, in these painful moments, our “Fight” (getting angry to avoid intimacy), Flight (relationship avoidant), Freeze(Play dead until the storm passes) or Fawn (People pleasing and co-dependency) ” responses take over, as they naturally do. They automatically kick in to protect us, to keep us alive. They are coming from these inner (and younger) parts of us, whose present relationship reminds them of their parents and they work hard in keeping us alive.

Self-Compassion is key here.

Mindfulness: noticing our feelings, our inner part’s feelings, and feeling them in our body.

Acceptance: instead of pushing, dismissing, or minimizing our feelings. It is natural to want to get rid of the pain. It equals dismissing our inner parts, who need our love and understanding. So we might need to give us a break if our first desire is not to feel our discomfort. It is easier when we are willing to approach our “inner family” with curiosity.

Humanity: When we are suffering, we feel deeply lonely. Reminding ourselves we are not alone in going through challenges might help us remember, that we are not alone.

Loving Kindness: Talking to our inner parts/ ourselves as we would a dear friend of ours: “I am sorry this is such a difficult time for you. You are no longer alone: I am here. What do you need?”

Is it by accepting ourselves, with tender loving care, we will then move forward, together with our inner parts. When I feel deeply lonely when I feel the gnawing despair for loving attachment of my inner child and inner teenager, I pause and breathe in love, kindness, and compassion for them. I listen to what they have to tell. I don’t tell them to look on the bright side, to be positive: I hold them with tender loving care, and I validate their pain. I no longer feel ashamed by the parts of me who need to be loved so much!

Of course, some days are easier than others, it is an ongoing process and it varies from person to person. It takes time and patience.

Take care,

Sylvie

For more information, click on the links below:

“Fight, Flight, Freeze and Fawn” – The “4 Fs” and “Flashbacks Management” by Pete Walker M.A Psychology

Self-Compassion by Kristin Neff, PhD.

“No Bad Parts” – Internal Family System by Dr Richard Schwartz, Ph.D.

Article also available in Winter Turns Into Spring

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

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