Healing Self-Shame | CPTSDfoundation.org

The Overlap of ADHD and PTSD: Why the Brain Works Overtime

Jeanne Jess — Thu, 16 Jul 2026 10:00:00 +0000

Understanding Increased Vulnerability and Symptoms: Beyond the Diagnosis and Survival Instincts

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

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

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

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

Some of the Key Reasons for Increased Vulnerability:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With Love and Light,
Jeanne

Photo Credit: Unsplash

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

In Fight Mode: When Survival Looks Like Defiance

Angela Solic — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 10:00:00 +0000

Trigger Warning: This post contains references to traumatic childhood experiences, including recalled memories of abuse and descriptions of the author’s trauma responses. Please take care while reading.

I’m surprised I wasn’t born wearing a tiny pair of boxing gloves. That would have been appropriate, given the kind of life I would be leading as a kid.

For people like me who grew up with complex trauma, our nervous systems helped us survive through trauma responses. Way back in the early 20th century, an old guy named Walter Bradford Cannon coined the ‘fight or flight’ responses in his 1915 book titled Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear, and Rage. This work is grounded in physiology, though, the way the body responds–not psychology or trauma theory.

“Freeze” was added later by trauma researchers, and Complex PTSD expert Pete Walker added “fawn” in his 2013 book Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving. Fight, flight, and freeze are biologically ancient reactions in animals and humans, while fawning is innately human, rooted in relational trauma. When people “fawn” as a trauma response, their nervous system is helping them survive in a socially unequal power struggle. Generally, those who fawn in a situation will attempt to appease or please their abuser as a response to abuse.

I was not made to fawn. That doesn’t make me any better than someone who fawns, or freezes, or flees; this is just how I am made, deep within the biology of my cells. Because of this, I have a hard time understanding that response because I have witnessed chronically abused children, first-hand, and I just wanted to scream, “STAND UP FOR YOURSELF FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!” Or, “why are you letting her manipulate you like that? You see this is about control, right?”

Perhaps I had to be a fighter in order to thrive after the traumas I experienced as a child and young adult, I don’t know for certain. I am working on being more understanding and accepting that not everyone is made the way I am, and that for some people, standing up for themselves could feel like a death sentence.

I hated watching these children being raised by an emotionally abusive mother, and then their brother was added as an abuser, as well. It was heart-wrenching to see how their response was to fawn. The times they did try to fight, before puberty, their mother put them in their place very quickly; she threatened to kill herself, and they were terrified of her. Even though they’re young adults now, they are still drinking the Kool-Aid, and I mourn the kind of lives they could have had if they didn’t grow up that way.

My life might have been easier if I just fawned over my mother’s demands, her insults, her constant criticisms, and her blatant and excessive coddling of my brother–who was only 15 months younger than I was.

If I fawned instead of fought, I probably wouldn’t have been institutionalized in a mental hospital on my 13th birthday because she just couldn’t handle me. I probably wouldn’t have been constantly grounded for nonsense, including taking away my ability to get to work.

The truth is, I fought her constantly with logic, with reason, with common sense. But emotional abusers are anything but logical and reasonable, especially emotional abusers with personality disorders like borderline, narcissistic personality disorder, and bipolar disorder. I was fighting a battle that I would never win as a minor–but I fought anyway.

By the time I left for college (which I did 100% on my own, without support), I was battle-scarred and seeping from so many wounds–but no one could see them. I was exhausted from the fight, which had gone on for eight years straight. Distance helped immensely and because I was not connected to my abuser in any way, especially emotionally, removing myself nearly completely helped me feel just a little bit closer to normal.

We fighters are very misunderstood because our survival strategy violates social expectations about how pain, fear, vulnerability, and self-advocacy are “supposed” to look. The other trauma responses retreat, appease, or disappear, but we fighters move toward the threat, and that makes people uncomfortable–especially the abusers. However, some abusers, like mine, used it to their advantage.

A fight trauma response looks like a raised voice, firm boundaries, anger, confrontation, or refusal to back down. On the outside looking in, these appear deliberate, like the person fighting is choosing conflict. In reality, this fight response is automatic nervous system mobilization. Our body detects danger, so it prepares to push back in order to survive. In my personal situation, my abuser used it as evidence that I was “difficult,” “impossible,” and “defiant”.

People assume, “that person could control it if they wanted to”, or “they just seem to enjoy conflict” because responses look active rather than passive. We humans are much more comfortable recognizing trauma when it looks like collapse compared to when it looks like resistance.

Anger is one of the least tolerated emotions, especially when it’s expressed by women, children, and marginalized people. When trauma shows up as anger, it gets moralized instead of medicalized. Rather than asking, “What threat taught you to respond in this manner?” people ask:

Why are you so aggressive?

Why can’t you calm down?

What’s wrong with you?

This fight response is misread as a character flaw instead of a complex learned survival skill.

Fighters disrupt people’s comfort and their need for control–especially emotional abusers. Freeze and fawn responses make the other person feel needed, calm, unchallenged, and in charge, whereas fight responses do the exact opposite. Fighters will question authority and push back against unfairness; they refuse to emotionally disappear when mistreated, and will make tension visible and uncomfortable for those in the room.

Systems like families, workplaces, and relationships that rely on silence and compliance are threatened by those who have a fight response. It’s easier to label the fighter as the problem than to examine the environment that required the fight response to begin with.

As much as it pains me to admit this, fight is related to fear and is rarely recognized as such. As humans, we are taught that fear looks like crying, avoidance, withdrawal, and panic, but for fighters, fear looks like increased energy, argument, defensiveness, and readiness, along with a “bring-it-on” attitude. Because fear is hidden inside these other, more aggressive emotions, it’s missed and replaced with incorrect assumptions about hostility and ego. In truth, fight is fear with momentum.

Many fighters grew up where fight was the only protection they had in emotionally abusive, chaotic, or unsafe environments because freeze wasn’t safe–it meant they would be the target. Fawn didn’t work–their needs weren’t respected, nor were their efforts to be nice/good/useful recognized. Flight wasn’t possible because they couldn’t leave and had nowhere to go. So, fight was the only way to maintain dignity, boundaries, or a sense of self.

I want to share a brief story.

When I was 11 years old, my father was out of the house because his heroin habit took over his life. One bitterly cold night, there was a knock at the door. Usually, my mother was working, but she was home that night. My father came to the door asking for food and a blanket. He pawned his leather jacket and was homeless.

I heard his plea and got up from watching my TV program to make him some Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup, spread some butter on white bread, and take my blanket off my bed, which was gifted to me by my neighbor, Mary. I carefully took these through the living room and was blocked by my mother, who threatened me, belittled me, and cursed me, but I fought back with everything I had to get to the door and give my father food and warmth.

Writing this still fills me with difficult emotions. The trauma of that night is woven into the fibers of who I am. She would not keep me from helping my father without a fight, and, in the end, he had the soup, and I let him keep the blanket.

Culturally, we seem to prefer trauma survivors who are quiet, forgiving, insightful without being threatening, and resilient–but in soft, palatable ways. Fighters complicate the story because we’re not always gentle; we may hold on to anger longer; we may not rush to forgive (or may not forgive at all); we may insist things were wrong and, at least at first, demand retribution if not at least some form of acknowledgment of the wrongdoing done to us. All of this makes us fighters hard to celebrate and easier to dismiss.

If you’re a fighter, I stand in solidarity with you. Fighters are misunderstood because our trauma response looks like aggression instead of fear, choice instead of instinctual reflex, and defiance instead of personal protection. This makes it so much easier to blame us than to recognize the threats we had to deal with every day, and how we learned to survive them.

Photo Credit: Unsplash

Resources

Cole, P. M., Martin, S. E., & Dennis, T. A. (2004). Emotion regulation as a scientific construct. Child Development, 75(2), 317–333. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-8624.2004.00675.x (article)

Marshburn, C. K., Cochran, K. J., Flynn, E., & Levine, L. J. (2020). Workplace anger costs women irrespective of race. Frontiers in Psychology, 11, 579884. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2020.579884 (article)

Perry, Bruce. (2021). What Happened to You? (book)

Riggs, S. A. (2010). Childhood emotional abuse and the attachment system across the life cycle: What theory and research tell us. Journal of Aggression, Maltreatment & Trauma, 19(1), 5–51. https://doi.org/10.1080/10926770903475968 (article)

Walker, Pete. (2013). Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving (book)

Xu, M. (2025). Reconsider the anger of marginalized communities. Journal of Marital and Family Therapy, 51(2), e70018. https://doi.org/10.1111/jmft.70018 (article)

A Feeling Like No Other… Believe it, then achieve it.

Elizabeth Woods — Mon, 01 Jun 2026 10:00:00 +0000

It’s official, my MFA is in the bag.

I did it! I have achieved a Master’s degree in Writing. It’s a dream come true for me. Something I could only dream about over the years.

My dream started when I was about four or five years old. I was living a nightmare childhood. The kind that no child should ever have to endure, riddled with horrific trauma and perpetual child abuse. I started expressing my feelings in a diary. I wrote in code at first, using impossible metaphors that the adults around me couldn’t understand.

My writing evolved over the years, and as an adult, I eventually became brave enough to publish my memoir:

Of course, once I published my memoir, I couldn’t stop writing. It was like my writing had burst its creative banks, and I published five more books.

Yes, you read that right.

I have published six books, and I have a new novel coming this spring.

I couldn’t keep silent anymore. I needed to write for those who have no voice due to trauma.

Have you ever dreamed about wanting something that you felt was out of reach?

My Master’s degree felt like that to me — for decades. I wanted to be a better writer.

I longed for it for years. Then I started doubting that I could do it, and I eventually stopped dreaming with every rejection landing in my inbox.

I kept telling myself that I couldn’t afford to head back to college. (I’m still paying for my college tuition from my teaching degree).

Does this kind of excuse sound familiar? You stop dreaming because it feels unreachable, and those negative thoughts from childhood rears their ugly heads.

Something happened when I was in this phase of thinking that my dream of writing was unreachable. Someone asked me why…

Why do you stop dreaming because of money? Why have you stopped dreaming because you’re an adult?

Everyone pays for college.

You only live once, so why not live the life you want?

I applied for my Master’s that same day, but I never thought I’d get in since it was late. I was wrong and got accepted after three weeks. I don’t know how I pulled it off, but I did. It was like it was meant to be.

When you’re in high school, your whole life is ahead of you. Students have the choice of what they want to study, or do for the rest of their lives.

How do you know what your future holds when you’re a teenager?

How can you know what career you want without any life experience? How can you know, without even trying out a job for a single day?

It’s impossible to choose. Yet some students do, going with their interests and heading to college.

After completing a degree, you start a career.

Years go by, and life experiences change you.

Some people choose to settle down in the suburbs, get married, and have kids.

You become someone that people depend on at home and at work. You have responsibilities.

You get a new perspective on life, but it doesn’t mean you become boring. It makes you start dreaming again. Dreaming of more.

What is more for you?

What would it feel like to get more?

Imagine yourself there. If you believe it, then you can achieve it.

Never lose sight of your true dreams.

I chose my own path to happiness when I was a teenager. I got away from my family, and everything I knew, and I started again. But I still wanted more and put myself through night school, working several jobs.

I believed in myself, and I got accepted into teaching college. My life didn’t end there. I’m still me and always hungry for more.

I spent my childhood living under strict rules about everything I said and did. When I started my life again, I decided to follow my heart.

Now I’m a mom, a teacher, and I have two degrees.

None of it was easy, but it started with me — believing.

You can do it too. Start believing in yourself.

It’s never too late to start something new.

I’m in my forties, I work all week, and I have two kids. I still went to college because I decided to follow my dream to write better.

I was in the MFA program with talented people, ranging from their seventies to fresh twenty-something graduates. They were all incredible people, and everyone had a story to tell. We all shared the love of writing.

I found my crowd, and I loved being in this environment.

What’s stopping you from getting more? What’s stopping you from finding your crowd?

My name is Lizzy. I’m a trauma survivor, a wife, a mom, a teacher, and an author.If you like reading my posts, then please follow me.

For more about me: www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

Support your fellow writer:

https://ko-fi.com/elizabe69245484

Photo Credit: Unsplash

Self-Worth Vs Self-Esteem: Does it really matter how we view ourselves?

Elizabeth Woods — Mon, 04 May 2026 10:00:00 +0000

We don’t often think about ourselves. Most of the time, we don’t take regular breaks at work.

Who cares what you think about yourself?

Well, you do–yes, really. The reason is that you matter, and your presence in this world matters.

Think about the last meaningful conversation that you had with someone. What happened, and how did you leave it? Did you feel happy about it, or not?

Why did you feel that way?

Everything you do in life matters, and believe it or not, people do pay attention.

Think about the last time you made a stupid mistake. How quickly did people notice and comment? Did someone make a joke at your expense?

How about the last time you did something amazing–like getting your first year sober, or passing an exam? People notice these things and want to celebrate your successes.

I used to think no one noticed me, but when I looked for evidence, I found clear examples of people hearing, seeing, and noticing me.

My point is, we don’t often pause and think about ourselves because we are too busy. But by ignoring our feelings, we miss more than we can ever consider.

Think about someone who makes you happy. It could be a family member or a good friend.

What’s special about them? What do you value in them?

Do they have a great sense of humor? Maybe they’re a good listener, or someone with positive energy? Perhaps you value their kindness the most? Maybe they have some other qualities that sets them apart from others.

Someone told me recently that they like being with me because “I made them feel seen,” because I listen.

Now turn those same questions to yourself.

What’s special about you? What qualities do people value in you? What type of friend and colleague are you? What sets you apart from others?

What comments do you get from people?

How do you feel about yourself? Is your answer positive, balanced, or negative?

How do you think your perceptions affect your life?

Self-worth vs. self-esteem

These two words sound similar, but they do have different meanings.

Self-worth is the way you value yourself. It is the way you believe in yourself–that you are good enough to receive love, respect, and kindness from other people.

People with low self-esteem generally have a negative view of themselves. They are usually quick to judge or evaluate themselves by criticizing their own actions, brushing off compliments, and focusing on mistakes.

Living without self-worth makes is very difficult to put yourself first. For example, you may not go for that opportunity because you feel other people are better than you. You might stay in an abusive relationship because you don’t feel that you deserve better from life.

You are the one who initiates what happens in your life. It all starts with you. Your overall health is important because it affects the ways in which you feel, think, and behave.

Having low self-worth puts you at risk for many health conditions, like anxiety and depression. Over time, these can lead to problems such as phobias and substance abuse.

Self-esteem relies on external factors like successes and achievements. It can change how you value yourself with life’s ups and downs.

A breakup can make you feel low for weeks–even months afterward. A failed college exam can have a similar effect on your mood and how you see yourself.

An abusive relationship can put a major dent in your self-esteem and make you feel bad about yourself.

Don’t let life bring you down.

It’s time you look up and put yourself first. Who else is going to look out for you?

People who are happy generally have high self-esteem and self-worth. They take greater care of themselves by making better life choices and live fuller lives. They know their own strengths and limitations, and face life’s challenges with resilience.

It’s not selfish to take care of yourself.

Many people struggle with self-worth and self-esteem. The great thing is that you can learn to see yourself in a more positive light with some practice.

Turning it around

Self-compassion is great way to start feeling better about yourself. Start each day by being kind to yourself. Instead of seeing mistakes and flaws, think about yourself the same way as you see your loved ones, and those you value most.

Treat yourself with respect instead of criticizing everything you say and do. Remind yourself every now and again that it’s okay to make mistakes. You’ll soon notice the difference in your attitude.

Take notice of how you are feeling, and own those feelings. You’ll start to feel much more in tune with yourself–and with those around you.

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

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

For more about me: www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

Support your fellow writer:

https://ko-fi.com/elizabe69245484

Photo Credit: Unsplash

The Dance of Life

Jesse Donahue — Tue, 17 Mar 2026 10:00:00 +0000

There she strolled, with a designed grace, one foot forward after the other, pushing, dispensing, oozing that life’s source, that vibrant something. Something spoken, wildly, emboldened to dare tell, to call out the imperative want and hunger that is human nature.

She sauntered, conscious and unconscious, enacting the full inner drama that spoke through a designed expression. That song, that drama, elicits a response in others to meet her needs and desires. That something worn, adorned, and polished may have been the obvious outward expression, yet it is a duality of messaging.

Her image was received by a complex mind, which resurrected a reciprocal wish. The wish to see in others what we want to see, and to believe what we want to think is accurate and real.

From a physical adornment in attire, it is an inner expression, a statement, a driving inner hunger, and an impression sought to tell the outside world of her needs. That energy and goal to be seen, noticed, and hungered for in design to our wish “to be esteemed.”

Mommy and Daddy look at me! Watch this! An early need to receive the affirmation that we are worthy of esteemed attention from the world of others, outside of our solitary self-awareness. Feed me! Our outer expression of design cries out to the world around us. Is the design that she wears, which elicits the returned hunger from others toward her, a simple picture of what she needs? Is that the authentic reaction for which she hungers? Or is it a desperate plea to capture and cure an esteemed eye from others upon oneself?

A learned substitute that feeds a deep, driving inner sense of feeling unfulfilled. Our early-life attempts to find fulfillment in nature’s precious love are rooted in the authentic esteem of others.

It is always a symbolic dance of life’s energy, trying to meet the unconscious needs from a shortage of esteem from outside voices in our world. Often, we are unaware of what, why, or how our expression to be seen by others is generated. It is especially true of our youth, and we often glide obliviously through life, never understanding why or how we express ourselves.

According to Psychoanalytic and other personality theories, character is designed in our unconscious. We dance an expression for the world, a symbolic regurgitation of met and unmet needs. Symbolism is the language of the unconscious as well as our pulsing needs, which our unconscious mind knows and expresses to the world. We see ourselves through sizing up who we are in the mirror.

The ideal self, the desired self, has innate needs to be fulfilled. The symbolism that emerges from our inner depths guides and pushes us to be expressive with others in an effort to be seen. We act to heal our masked inner wounds, struggling to quench our need for outside esteem or positive regard from others. Our behavior is a colorful mosaic, searching for acceptable avenues to meet our need for esteem in the world.

Hopefully, this dance of ours reaches a plateau where we begin to view our inner need to achieve a state of “self-love.”

We find inner praise and self-esteem for our authentic self. Thus, we strive to achieve a self that is far less controlled by unseen and unclear forces. Working toward self-actualization, self-love, and self-acceptance becomes our chosen pathway that minimizes our incessant drive to act out in ways we do not comprehend.

The Dance of Life
Originally titled: Esteem from the Outside World
By Jesse B. Donahue © 2023

Photo Credit: Unsplash

The Hidden Legacy of Relational Trauma: Breaking Free from Codependency and Complex PTSD

Jenney Clark — Thu, 19 Feb 2026 11:00:00 +0000

I have often been asked why I am an outspoken writer, willing to tackle thorny and difficult issues well beyond my usual scope of mystical interest. In an era of stifling correctness that governs much of the media, it would be career-savvy to “stay in my lane.” So why do I speak out? As with most human phenomena, the answer lies in my genetic wiring as a free thinker, unabashedly opposed to groupthink, and my personal history shaped by neglect, abandonment, and relational wounds. The ideals that drive me are love, freedom, and truth; any attack on these standards feels like an existential crucible.

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:

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.

When a Victim Doesn’t Know She’s a Victim: Survivor’s Guilt, the “Fawn” Response, Trauma Bonds, and Setting Boundaries

Natalie Rose — Fri, 08 Nov 2024 10:29:49 +0000

“I can’t forgive myself.” Daily, I uttered this phrase.

When I said it, my loved ones were concerned. “But what do you need to forgive yourself for?” They’d ask, perplexed. For them, there was nothing I’d done that needed forgiving.

The voice in my head screamed, “You’re wrong!” I knew I had to forgive myself, even if I didn’t know why.

At the time, I didn’t know it was odd to be sitting around for hours a day feeling like I needed to forgive myself. No one else in my life was doing that. They were focused on moving forward. Yet, there I was, caught in my self-guilt, feeling like the most despicable human being on the planet, unable to forgive myself. Even worse, I didn’t even know what I was trying to forgive myself for, and no amount of thinking about it could pinpoint it.

Isolation, Rumination, and Self-Guilt

Often, complex trauma survivors isolate themselves. Their isolation sparks deep rumination that makes them live in the past. They might feel like horrible people who need to seek forgiveness for the things they have done “wrong.” What these survivors don’t yet see is that they’re the victims of the things that they’re dwelling on, and their guilt and shame are natural reactions to their experiences.

Survivor’s guilt is most common in situations of immediate tragedy, such as being the sole survivor of a car accident or similar disaster. The survivor feels guilty for the rest of his life, wondering why he lived but the others didn’t.

When it comes to complex trauma survivors, though, the definition expands to include their feelings of self-guilt as they relate to the traumatic situations they endured. It is a more subtle type of survivor’s guilt, but it is just as real and damaging.

While healing, I realized my inability to forgive myself wasn’t because I was upset about the mistakes I had made in the past — those I had forgiven myself for. My inability to forgive myself came from not knowing I was a victim of control, manipulation, and abuse at the hands of others, all while not being aware of the fact that my body was heavily dissociated as a result, and feeling guilty and ashamed as I reflected back on my own fight, flight, freeze, and fawn reactions in all these situations.

Attempting to “Fix” the Past

A while ago, I tried to reconnect with people from my past after being isolated for so long. I had been desperately and privately seeking answers to my health struggles, not communicating with hardly anyone but my immediate family, coworkers, and medical professionals. One reason I had lost contact with many people was due to the advice of my mental health team, who noticed that some relationships had a detrimental effect on me. Working on my health and balancing a full-time job didn’t leave much time or emotional energy for others. For years, I had overextended myself to care for others, neglecting my own well-being. I didn’t make time to care for myself without feeling guilty about it.

Often, survivors return to the familiarity of the things they went through in an attempt to “fix” them. They may return to others who have hurt them in a phenomenon known as the trauma bond. A trauma bond is rooted in an imbalance of power, and it is typically an unhealthy emotional attachment that forms between a person and someone else who mistreats them.

I have firsthand experience with this from when I attempted to reconnect and rebuild relationships with people from my past. After losing contact with many people due to my isolation, I made a list of the ones I believed were safe to reconnect with and started determining how best to reconnect. I was hesitant about some due to their connections to past trauma, and I wanted to avoid further hurt from them and those environments. Still, I decided to give some people the benefit of the doubt and not associate them with the environment as a whole.

Looking back, trying to reconnect with people from my past at that time was premature. I still was deeply struggling and couldn’t take on much more stress than I was already in at the time. I was also still very vulnerable and didn’t have the proper mental clarity to distinguish who was safe to trust and who was not.

The first group on my list to reconnect with were people from one of the religious communities I was involved in. I wanted to avoid the environment as a whole after being involved there — my experiences there greatly exacerbated the survivor’s guilt and self-blame I previously had. Still, there was a small group there that I believed cared for me, and I thought it would be safe to reconnect with them personally without having to get involved in the larger group.

When I met this group and attempted to reconnect and apologize for my absence, I was initially met with shock that quickly turned into hostility and anger from the group leader. After the initial awkwardness faded, he began to admonish me.

“I’m going to be a pastoral voice for you,” he said sternly. The anger in his eyes pierced my soul and made me shake in terror.

He began hurling insults, accusations, and assumptions at me like daggers. He yelled in my face, asking why I “dropped off the face of the earth,” and demanded answers to his unanswered questions about my whereabouts and private life. He just kept on going without stopping. I had no room to breathe or say anything. I immediately went into the “freeze” trauma response, unable to fathom what was happening.

I finally got the courage to respond, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” he immediately spat back, gaslighting me into questioning my own reality. Maybe he’s right? I remember thinking in my head. I wracked my mind for evidence that these insults were accurate. But I couldn’t get another word out.

Once he had exhausted his venom, he took a breath and said with a sly smile on his face, “You’re welcome to take a seat.” He motioned his hands toward the couch. I couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or sarcastic.

This is the exact moment I should have turned around and run for my life, but my body was frozen. What I ended up doing in response to this situation was “fawning,” where the victim adopts a people-pleasing approach to pacify the perpetrator so that the perpetrator does not perceive her as a threat and incite more punishment.

I slowly inched closer to the couch and took a seat, thinking I had no other option. I wanted to scream for help. I wanted to run. But the power dynamics made it seem that my personal safety would have been at risk if I had chosen to run. So, I did my best to pacify the situation and pretend like I wasn’t uncomfortable. I had been very used to pacifying aggressors’ behavior with mature communication and a smile so they wouldn’t feel threatened if I stood up for myself. This was just another one of those times.

For the next few hours, this small group interrogated me, and I sat there as calmly as I possibly could, appeasing them and answering all their burning questions honestly. I trembled on the inside as I kept my arms crossed in my lap, and my head hung low. They demanded answers to all their burning questions about me, my personal life, my medical records, my family, my whereabouts. And I thought I owed them answers. I did not know at the time that I did not owe anyone answers to why I was in isolation, focusing on my health and protecting myself.

During this interrogation, I continued to be victimized for the things that were “wrong” about me. Still, I did my best to communicate like I normally do, hide my fear, and answer their questions honestly. Even hours into it, I was still apologizing for actions I’d taken to protect myself.

At one point in the interrogation, the leader of this group sat with his arms and legs crossed like a pretzel, waiting for me to confess my “sins.”

“So, what are you sorry for?” he sadistically asked. I could see the anticipation as he waited for me to confess how “awful” I was. My only “sin” was separating myself from the relationship because of the control tactics used on me, so I could prioritize my health. After I gave the group the answers they were looking for, they would say, “There is forgiveness in Christ.” This false balm made me sick to my stomach.

Finally, it was over, and I left feeling dazed and unable to fathom what had just happened. They ended it on a “positive” note, reminding me the reasons why their admonishment over me was necessary. “It’s because we love you.” And they also reminded me, “Just focus on the positive things.” Try as I might, there was nothing positive to recall. The insults hurled in my face that night became yet another set of emotional flashbacks added on to the myriad of other flashbacks that already plagued me on a daily basis.

Only after this did I see the obvious extreme control and manipulation tactics that outsiders could see. These people had no right to have any power over me but took it upon themselves to control me, continue their quest to pull me away from the people and things in my life that were important to me and twist the words of the Bible to come up with all the “sins” they convinced themselves I was guilty of. This is one of the numerous times I worshiped the opinions of religious people and begged for their forgiveness when I’d done nothing wrong.

Often, in situations of control, manipulation, and abuse, all the perpetrators have to do is wrap it up as “love” and “charity.” Then, it’s no longer abuse. I believe a “love” that punishes, criticizes, and judges is not love at all.

What I’ve Learned About Survivor’s Guilt

In retrospect, my first mistake was believing that I had something to seek forgiveness for. That was the survivor’s guilt, religious indoctrination, and lingering trauma bond talking. I did not owe anyone an explanation as to why I needed to focus on myself and my health or why I dropped out of sight.

My next mistake was not listening to myself the moment I felt unsafe. I should have turned around and walked back to my car. There was no need for me to explain anything. Today, when situations like this happen, I simply walk away.

I’ve realized there is nothing for me to be sorry for or feel guilty about when I am protecting myself. In the past, I constantly apologized for my “arrogance,” my “disobedience,” and the ways I supposedly “let down” the people who ruthlessly controlled me. Believing that I owed people explanations and could never say “no” made my life unmanageable. It impacted my productivity. I lost sleep. I lost money. I neglected my own self-care at the expense of pleasing other people. It got to the point where I couldn’t manage myself because I was under the control of others. My trauma and experiences with people who put themselves in this false position of power conditioned me to believe that I was inherently “wrong” – something I’ve worked ceaselessly to unlearn.

Recently, I reconnected with some of the other people and groups on my list, and I’m glad I did. Others I reconnected with were just so glad to hear from me and elated to know that I was okay after many years of being concerned for my health. They didn’t expect any explanations or punish me for taking time away to heal. This is the healthy, appropriate, and normal way to respond to a complex trauma survivor who steps back out into the world after living in isolation. I finally believed that no one had any business knowing my private life — unless I chose to tell them.

It Is Possible to Overcome the Guilt and Blame that Come with Survivor’s Guilt

Survivors, if you are feeling ready to come out of isolation, be sure you’ve healed enough to evaluate who is safe to reconnect with. Take all the time you need to get a good head on your shoulders. It doesn’t matter if it takes a few weeks, a few months, or many years. You don’t owe anyone explanations or answers.

With time and work, I realized that I didn’t need to forgive myself for the things I was the victim of before I could move forward with my life. I still struggle with the emotions that come with survivor’s guilt, but I daily work through them and do my best to remember the fact that there was nothing for me to be sorry for in the first place.

Photo by Yuris Alhumaydy on Pexels

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.

Why Childhood Trauma Survivors Blame Themselves

Rebekah Brown — Wed, 03 Jul 2024 09:20:30 +0000

In my forties, I was a part of a support group for survivors of abuse. Most of the women who attended were dealing with abusive partners. I was the only one sharing about childhood abuse, though I am sure nearly everyone there was a survivor of childhood trauma. We started each session with a “check-in time.” Each person could share whatever was on their mind.

The young woman sitting to my right began to cry. “I have worked so hard to make a home. I hold down a job, I do all the housework, and I try to be pleasant, but no matter what I do, my husband stays mad. He comes home mad. He leaves mad. He slaps me. He insults me. I’ve tried everything I know, and nothing has worked. What is wrong with me? Maybe if I made more money. Maybe if I just tried a little harder. I wonder every single day what I am doing wrong. We argue and fight, and I talk and talk and talk. Still, I just can’t figure it out. What is it? What am I doing wrong?”

Unable to keep my mouth shut, I piped up. “I can answer that.”

That’s how abusers work. They make you think their behavior is your fault.

Dead silence fell over the room. The young woman’s eyes grew wide as she stared my way. Gaining the full attention of the room, I shared my insight. “Nothing,” I said. “The answer is…nothing. There is nothing you did to cause it, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. That’s how abusers work. They make you think their behavior is your fault.”

After watching the wheels turn in her head for five seconds, she spoke. “I cook, I clean, I work so hard. I just can’t figure it out. I know I’m not perfect, but I just can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong. Maybe if I…” and on and on, she went as if I had not said a single word. She was convinced she was causing the abuse and, therefore, had the power to stop it.

How could she possibly not see the self-blame? And why could I see it so easily in her and not myself?

I was a bad child. A very bad child. I talked too much. My fun-loving nature was obnoxious. Nobody wanted to be around me. I caused trouble everywhere I went. In addition, I was cataclysmically stupid. Why did my parents have to have a child like me? Doomed to failure, I was inherently bad. I was the reason my parents were so unhappy. I was the reason our family was so troubled. I tried everything. Nothing worked. So I decided to try and disappear. Even being quiet made no difference. I could never disappear enough for the abuse to stop. As an adult, according to my parents, I was a stupid idiot. Too dumb to make a decision, too unsuccessful to be loved, I lived under my parents’ condemnation for decades, believing in the depths of my soul every bit of blame they sent my way. Their abuse continued as long as I remained in contact. I was over fifty years old before I finally said NO MORE.

Why would anyone stay in an abusive relationship for so long?

But more to the point…Why do victims of abuse blame themselves instead of believing the truth?

Like my friend from the support group, I went round and round in my head, trying to discover the reason I had always been such a problem. I discovered that blame and, more importantly, self-blame follow a pattern.

Why self-blame cements itself in childhood trauma:

People are more likely to blame themselves when abuse occurs within interpersonal, close relationships, such as with a parent or spouse. Vulnerability and dependence are both hallmarks of these close relationships, giving the abuser a wider as well as deeper swath of access.

The following are some of the reasons self-blame cements itself in the heart of a child.

1. Children believe their abuser
2. The abuser is seen as “normal” or a pillar of the community by others
3. When children try to tell, the abuse is either downplayed or not believed at all. Sometimes there is no one children can tell.
4. Abuse is all the child knows.
5. When a child tries to stand up for themselves, the abuser uses it as justification for more abuse
6. Self-blame is often the only way a child can control an unbearable and uncontrollable situation.
7. Self-blame is a survival technique
8. The loss of the relationship is so threatening blaming yourself feels safer than admitting the truth
9. The abuser has trained you (brainwashed you) to blame yourself
10. Chronic feelings of guilt, anxiety, and shame are temporarily relieved by blaming yourself.

Signs you are blaming yourself

-people pleasing
-feelings of self-hatred
-compliments make you uncomfortable
-conflict avoidance
-difficulty with trust
-attributing success to luck
-self-sabotage
-sensitive to rejection
-struggle with boundaries
-seeing yourself as responsible for everything that goes wrong

The Thought Process Behind Self-Blame

I should have known better
I should have said no
I should have stood up for myself
I should have used my voice
If I had been a good child, I would not have been abused
If I could figure out how to please my parents, the abuse will stop
If I can be successful, I will finally be loved

How to Stop Blaming Yourself

I don’t want to stop at the causes and symptoms of self-blame. The word paradigm means a standard, perspective, or set of ideas. To stop self-blame, there must be a paradigm shift at the deepest level of who you are. Join me in part II of this blog series on creating a paradigm shift and stopping self-blame in its tracks forever! Defy trauma, embrace joy.

Safe Place

Adina Lynn LeCompte — Mon, 27 May 2024 09:07:54 +0000

I have a wonderful therapist. It’s not your usual “talk therapy,” though. We do talk, and I have come to trust him implicitly. He has helped me heal from PTSD and complex relational trauma, and the transformation since I began working with him far exceeds phenomenal. Dr. Gabe Roberts is known as The Subconscious Healer. We do something called Holographic Manipulation Therapy (HMT).

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

Understanding and Addressing Common Trauma Responses for Improved Well-Being

Nikki Dalhamer — Wed, 15 May 2024 09:34:42 +0000

Trauma can be defined as any event that is deeply distressing to you, causing a significant impact on your emotional and mental well-being. While the experience of trauma is subjective and unique to each individual, there are common responses that can affect one’s quality of life. In this blog post, we explore four of the most common trauma responses and offer insights on how to address them for improved well-being.

1. Overthinking: Overthinking, or obsessively dwelling on past events or worrying about the future, can exacerbate feelings of depression and anxiety. By identifying triggers and practicing grounding techniques, individuals can learn to manage overthinking and regain control over their thoughts.

2. Over-apologizing: Excessive apologizing is often linked to low self-worth or a desire to please others, stemming from past trauma. Recognizing triggers and setting boundaries are crucial steps in breaking the cycle of over-apologizing and fostering self-compassion.

3. Oversharing: Sharing too much personal information, especially related to trauma, can strain relationships and create unhealthy dynamics. Setting boundaries and being mindful of what and how much to disclose can help individuals maintain healthier connections with others.

4. Overwhelm: Feeling constantly overwhelmed by emotions or stress may indicate unprocessed trauma. Seeking support from a trauma-informed therapist and prioritizing self-care are essential in managing overwhelm and promoting emotional well-being.

Practicing self-compassion is also key in the healing process

Recognizing these common trauma responses is the first step towards healing and improving overall well-being. It is important to remember that healing from trauma is a personal journey that may require professional support. Working with a therapist who specializes in trauma can help individuals process their emotions and experiences in a safe and supportive environment.

Practicing self-compassion is also key in the healing process. Engaging in activities such as journaling, getting quality sleep, adjusting schedules as needed, and surrounding oneself with supportive individuals can aid in the healing journey.

Remember, you are not alone in your healing process. By acknowledging and addressing common trauma responses, individuals can take proactive steps toward healing and reclaiming their well-being. Be kind to yourself, seek support when needed, and know that healing is possible.

Photo by Brandy Kennedy on Unsplash