Toxic Positivity- Ew!

Snark Warning: This post has a satisfying amount of snark. It is intended to feel cathartic for frustrated recipients of shallow platitudes. For those who are well meaning and have said these things in ignorance, there is no true malice in this post. Just some light hearted sass and enlightenment. Carry on.

You’re sitting across from someone—maybe a friend, a family member, or even a therapist who should know better—and you’ve just shared a fragment of your trauma story. The room fills with that uncomfortable silence that survivors know all too well. Then it comes: “Well, you know what they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” And just like that, your complex, painful, ongoing reality has been reduced to a bumper sticker slogan.

If you’ve survived narcissistic abuse, complex trauma, or any form of prolonged trauma, you’ve likely heard a collection of these dismissive platitudes. They often come from well-meaning people who genuinely think they’re helping, which somehow makes it even worse. Not only are you dealing with your trauma, but now you’re also burdened with managing someone else’s discomfort with your pain—smiling politely while screaming internally.

How It Feels to Be on the Receiving End

When someone responds to your vulnerability with a platitude, the effect is immediate and visceral. Your chest tightens. Your throat constricts. That brief moment of connection you thought you were having vanishes.

In that instant, you’re faced with an impossible choice: Do you nod and smile to preserve the relationship, knowing you’ve just been fundamentally misunderstood? Do you summon the energy to educate them, when you’re already depleted from carrying your trauma? Or do you express genuine frustration, risking being labeled as “too sensitive” or “negative”?

Many survivors describe feeling instantly isolated when these comments come—like they’ve been pushed back into a box of acceptable suffering. There’s a special kind of loneliness in being told, essentially, that your pain should be more manageable, more meaningful, or more temporary than it actually is.

Physically, your body might respond as if to a threat (because invalidation is threatening to someone healing from trauma). Your heart rate increases. Your thoughts race. The very nervous system you’ve been working so hard to regulate is now dysregulated again—all because someone couldn’t sit with discomfort long enough to offer genuine support.

Let’s rip the band-aid off these toxic positivity statements and examine why they’re not just unhelpful, but actively harmful to trauma survivors.

1. “What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger”

Let’s start with the heavyweight champion of terrible advice. This saying suggests that trauma is somehow a character-building exercise, a cosmic gym membership you never signed up for.

Here’s the truth: Trauma doesn’t make you stronger; it depletes you. It taxes your nervous system, rewires your brain for constant danger, and drains the emotional resources you need for everyday functioning. Survivors aren’t “stronger” for having endured abuse—they’re working with damaged neural pathways, hypervigilance, and often a profound sense of disconnection from themselves and others.

Survivors aren’t “strong”—they’re exhausted from carrying weights others never had to lift. They’re functioning despite the burden of invisible triggers, flashbacks, and somatic responses that the average person never has to manage.

What survivors develop isn’t “strength” but survival adaptations—many of which actually make life more difficult once the danger has passed. That hyper-awareness of others’ moods that kept you safe around an unpredictable abuser? It now exhausts you in normal social situations. That ability to dissociate when things get overwhelming? It now makes it hard to stay present during important moments.

Trauma survivors aren’t stronger. They’re working overtime just to achieve what might come naturally to others, like feeling safe in a relationship or not panicking at unexpected sounds.

2. “Everything Happens for a Reason”

This platitude suggests that your trauma was somehow part of a grand cosmic plan—that the abuse you endured was somehow necessary or purposeful.

Let’s be crystal clear: There is no “reason” good enough to justify abuse. None. Zero. Full stop.

This statement is a classic example of spiritual bypassing—using spiritual explanations to avoid confronting the uncomfortable reality of suffering. It’s easier to believe in a universe where everything has meaning than to acknowledge that sometimes terrible things happen randomly to good people. But packaging abuse as “part of the plan” or a “lesson you needed to learn” is not only false—it’s cruel.

When someone suggests your trauma “happened for a reason,” they’re unwittingly asking you to find meaning in your suffering to make them more comfortable with the random cruelty of the world. It places the burden on you to extract some profound lesson from your pain, rather than acknowledging the simple truth: what happened to you was wrong, and you deserved better.

It also subtly suggests that if you can’t find this mythical “reason,” you’re somehow failing at processing your trauma correctly. As if recovery means reframing abuse as a blessing in disguise rather than recognizing it as the injustice it was.

3. “God Doesn’t Give You More Than You Can Handle”

This faith-based variation of “everything happens for a reason” adds a particularly painful layer for many survivors. It suggests not only that your trauma was intentional, but that it was calibrated specifically for your capacity—that some divine entity looked at you and decided you were strong enough to endure abuse.

What’s particularly frustrating about this platitude is that it’s based on a misinterpretation of scripture. The verse commonly referenced is 1 Corinthians 10:13, which actually states: “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”

This passage is specifically about temptation—not trauma, suffering, or abuse. It’s about God providing a way to resist moral or spiritual challenges, not about God deliberately giving people suffering to test their strength. The misapplication of this scripture to trauma situations completely distorts its original meaning.

While this phrase originates from a Christian context, similar ideas exist across many faith traditions—and when misapplied, they share the same harm: recasting abuse as divine will. Whether it’s karma, fate, or providence, the suggestion that suffering was somehow divinely ordained can compound trauma with spiritual distress.

What this platitude fails to acknowledge is that many people don’t “handle” trauma—they are broken by it. They develop debilitating mental health conditions, turn to substance abuse to cope, or even take their own lives. Were these people simply given “more than they could handle”? The logic quickly falls apart.

For survivors with spiritual or religious beliefs, this statement can create a spiritual crisis on top of trauma. It portrays God as someone who deliberately inflicts or allows suffering as a test, instead of portraying God as a source of comfort and healing.

Even for those who find comfort in faith, healing often comes from understanding that trauma wasn’t part of a divine plan, but rather the result of human choices, random chance, or systemic failures—and that divine support can also come in the form of healing resources, supportive people, and inner strength to begin recovery.

4. “God Helps Those Who Help Themselves”

Ah yes, the favorite platitude of people who’ve never actually read the Bible but love to weaponize religion against those who are suffering. Let’s get this straight: this phrase appears exactly zero times in scripture. Not once. It’s as biblical as “cleanliness is next to godliness” or “money is the root of all evil” (it’s actually “the LOVE of money is a root of all kinds of evil”) —which is to say, not biblical at all.

The saying actually traces back to Aesop’s fable about a wagoner whose cart gets stuck in mud. When the driver prays to Hercules for help without trying to push his cart first, Hercules essentially tells him to put his own shoulder to the wheel before asking for divine intervention. So unless you’re worshipping the Greek demigod Hercules instead of the God of the Bible, you might want to reconsider this theological hot take. Benjamin Franklin later popularized the phrase, and somehow this advice about muddy cart wheels became the go-to spiritual weapon against trauma survivors who can’t just “bootstrap” their way through PTSD.

When directed at trauma survivors, this platitude becomes particularly toxic. It suggests that if you’re still struggling, you simply haven’t “earned” divine help yet. Still having flashbacks? Clearly you’re not praying hard enough or doing enough spiritual pushups to deserve God’s assistance. Having trouble functioning after abuse? Well, God’s waiting in the wings with healing, but first you need to prove you’re worthy by magically fixing yourself.

The cruel irony is that this saying completely inverts the central message of grace found throughout actual scripture. The Bible repeatedly shows God helping precisely those who cannot help themselves—the vulnerable, the broken, the traumatized. Psalms 34:18 explicitly states, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Not “The Lord is close to those who have their act together enough to deserve his attention.”

When someone drops this spiritual grenade in your lap, they’re essentially saying: “Your continued suffering is evidence of your spiritual failure.” It’s victim-blaming dressed up in religious language, suggesting that healing is a simple matter of effort rather than a complex neurobiological process that requires appropriate support and resources.

When faced with this particular gem of invalidation, you might respond:

“Fascinating how that phrase isn’t actually in the Bible.”

“I prefer to focus on the parts of scripture that talk about compassion for the suffering.”

“My trauma therapist and my understanding of faith don’t quite align with that view.”

Or my personal favorite: “Actually, the Bible repeatedly shows God helping those who precisely cannot help themselves. But thanks for your theological input.”

The truth is that trauma recovery often begins at exactly the point where self-help fails—when we acknowledge that we cannot heal alone and need support, whether divine or human. There’s no spiritual merit badge for suffering in silence, despite what these platitude-pushers might have you believe.

5. “Just Let It Go and Move On”

If trauma survivors could simply “let go” of their experiences, don’t you think they would have done so already? Nobody earnestly trying to heal “chooses suffering,” as some uninformed outsiders might claim. This statement fundamentally misunderstands how trauma operates in the brain and body.

Trauma isn’t stored as a normal memory that you can choose to forget. It’s encoded differently—often as fragmented sensory experiences that can be triggered without warning. Your body remembers trauma even when your conscious mind is trying to forget. That’s why unexpected triggers can cause such overwhelming physical and emotional responses.

Trauma isn’t a thought you can simply “drop”—it’s a physiological imprint that requires specific tools to reprocess. This is why body-based therapies like somatic experiencing, EMDR, and sensorimotor psychotherapy are often essential components of trauma recovery. These approaches acknowledge that trauma lives in the body and nervous system, not just in conscious thoughts that can be willfully dismissed.

“Moving on” isn’t a decision; it’s a complex neurobiological process that takes time, support, and often professional help. When people tell you to “just let it go,” they’re essentially asking why you don’t simply press the delete button on your trauma—as if such a button exists.

6. “Time Heals All Wounds”

Time alone doesn’t heal trauma. Unaddressed trauma doesn’t fade—it festers, manifests in physical symptoms, relationship patterns, and mental health challenges. In fact, trauma that isn’t actively processed often develops into complex PTSD over time, with symptoms becoming more entrenched rather than magically disappearing.

What actually helps heal trauma is targeted work: therapy with trauma-informed professionals, building a support network, learning to regulate your nervous system, and gradually processing traumatic memories in a safe environment. Time is only helpful insofar as it gives you space to do this difficult work.

The idea that you can passively wait for healing perpetuates the harmful notion that recovery is something that happens to you rather than something you actively participate in. It also invalidates the very real ongoing struggle many survivors face years or even decades after the traumatic events.

7. “You Should Forgive Them for Your Own Peace”

Forgiveness has somehow become the expected final chapter in every trauma story. But mandatory forgiveness places an additional burden on survivors who are already carrying so much.

Here’s what’s rarely acknowledged: You can heal completely without ever forgiving your abuser. Forgiveness may be helpful for some survivors, but it’s not a prerequisite for healing, and suggesting otherwise creates unnecessary pressure and potential shame.

What’s more important than forgiveness is understanding that what happened wasn’t your fault, setting boundaries to protect yourself, and reconnecting with your own needs and values. If forgiveness naturally emerges from that process, fine. If it doesn’t, that’s equally valid.

8. “You’re So Resilient!”

At first glance, this might not seem like a harmful statement. After all, isn’t resilience a positive quality? But for many trauma survivors, being called “resilient” can feel like pressure to perform strength when they’re barely holding it together.

When “you’re so resilient” is used to gloss over suffering, it becomes another way to deny survivors the space to be vulnerable or struggling. It can feel like being told, “I prefer to see you as strong rather than wounded, so please keep performing that strength for my comfort.”

This comment often comes with an unspoken expectation that you should continue to endure without complaint. Worse, it can make you feel guilty for the times when you don’t feel resilient at all—when you’re breaking down, struggling with basic functions, or unable to keep up the appearance of having it all together.

Resilience isn’t the absence of struggle—it’s the presence of struggle and persistence. Real support acknowledges both your capacity for resilience and your need to sometimes fall apart. Being resilient doesn’t mean you’re never affected by trauma—it means you continue despite being affected by it, and that continuing takes an enormous toll.

9. “I’m Sure They Did Their Best” or “They Didn’t Mean It That Way”

This may be the most insidious platitude because it sounds compassionate while actually invalidating your experience. It prioritizes the abuser’s intentions over the impact of their actions, effectively asking you to empathize with someone who harmed you.

The hard truth is that some people are genuinely malicious, and others are so self-absorbed that they never consider how their actions affect others. Narcissistic abusers, in particular, often know exactly what they’re doing—the harm isn’t accidental but strategic.

Even if someone “didn’t mean it that way,” the damage is still real. Your pain isn’t less valid because someone didn’t intend to cause it. You don’t owe understanding to those who hurt you, especially when they’ve made no effort to understand the damaging impact of their actions.

10. Cultural Variations: “But They’re Family” and Other Pressure Points

Platitudes often take culturally specific forms that add layers of shame and obligation to trauma. “Blood is thicker than water” or “family is everything” can become weapons that pressure survivors to maintain relationships with abusive family members.

In some communities, sayings like “what happens in this house stays in this house” explicitly discourage seeking outside help. Other cultural messages might emphasize endurance as virtue (“grin and bear it”), minimize male accountability (“boys will be boys”), or prioritize appearance over well-being (“we don’t air our dirty laundry”).

These sayings aren’t just words—they’re social contracts that prioritize harmony over healing. They function as unwritten rules that maintain the status quo at the expense of individual wellbeing.

These cultural variations share a common thread: they place the burden on the survivor to protect the status quo rather than heal themselves. They leverage cultural identity and belonging against the fundamental need for safety and authenticity. And sadly, our wiring often leads us to choose attachment over authenticity.

Recognizing these cultural dimensions doesn’t mean rejecting your cultural heritage—rather, it means distinguishing between cultural values that support wholeness and those that were designed to maintain systems where abuse can flourish unchallenged.

11. The Infinite Variations of “At Least…”

A special category of invalidating statements deserves its own mention: the seemingly endless variations of “at least…” These comparative statements attempt to minimize your trauma by contrasting it with hypothetical worse scenarios:

“At least they didn’t hit you.” “At least you’re not still with them.” “At least you have a roof over your head.” “At least you learned something from the experience.” “At least you have other family members who care about you.” “At least you’re strong enough to handle it.”

These statements are particularly insidious because they masquerade as gratitude prompts or perspective checks. But what they actually do is invalidate the very real pain you’re experiencing by suggesting you should be grateful it wasn’t worse.

The “at least” approach creates a false hierarchy of suffering where only the absolute worst-case scenario deserves full acknowledgment. It suggests that because others might have it worse, your pain deserves less attention, less support, and less validation. This competitive approach to trauma is not only unhelpful but actively harmful—leaving survivors feeling guilty for their completely appropriate responses to abuse.

When You’ve Become Your Own Worst Critic: Self-Platitudes

Perhaps the most painful platitudes are the ones we tell ourselves. After hearing these messages enough times from others, survivors often internalize them:

“I should be over this by now.” “Other people have it worse—I need to stop complaining.” “If I were stronger, this wouldn’t still affect me.” “I must have done something to deserve this.”

These self-directed platitudes can be even more damaging than those from others because they come from within, attacking us in our most vulnerable moments. They create a cycle where normal trauma responses become evidence of personal failure, leading to shame, which further complicates recovery. Instead of supporting ourselves when we’re struggling, we come down harder ourselves, assuming the role of our own abuser.

Breaking this cycle requires profound self-compassion—the willingness to treat yourself with the same kindness and understanding you would offer a beloved friend in your situation. It means recognizing that healing isn’t linear, that having bad days doesn’t mean you’re failing at recovery, and that your pain doesn’t need to be “the worst” to deserve care and attention.

The next time you catch yourself thinking one of these self-platitudes, try to pause and ask: “Would I say this to another survivor? Is this actually true, or is it a message I’ve absorbed from others who didn’t understand trauma?” If you wouldn’t weaponize another survivor’s pain, why weaponize your own?

Why People Say These Things (And Why It’s Not Your Job to Educate Them)

Understanding why people offer these platitudes doesn’t make them less harmful, but it might help you feel less personally invalidated when you hear them.

Most people are deeply uncomfortable with the idea that terrible things happen randomly to good people. It threatens their sense of safety and justice in the world. Platitudes offer a quick way to restore that sense of order: if trauma makes you stronger, happens for a reason, or can be overcome through forgiveness, then the world still makes sense.

Some people resort to these statements because they genuinely don’t know what else to say. They haven’t been taught how to sit with someone else’s pain without trying to fix it. Our culture doesn’t model compassionate witness very well—instead, we’re taught to problem-solve, silver-line, or distract.

Others may be triggered by your trauma because it resonates with their own unprocessed experiences. Their platitudes might actually be self-soothing mechanisms, attempts to convince themselves that their own trauma wasn’t so bad or had some greater purpose.

And sometimes, people just repeat what they’ve heard without ever examining whether it’s actually helpful or true. Pop culture is saturated with these oversimplified narratives about trauma and recovery.

Here’s the important part: It is not your responsibility to educate these people. You’re not obligated to explain why their comment was hurtful, especially when you’re already managing your own trauma responses. You don’t owe anyone a polite smile or a patient explanation when they’ve just invalidated your experience.

What Trauma Survivors Actually Need to Hear

Instead of platitudes, trauma survivors need validation, compassion, and humble presence. Simple statements like:

“I believe you.” “That sounds incredibly difficult.” “I’m here with you.” “Your feelings make sense.” “This wasn’t your fault.”

These acknowledgments don’t try to solve, reframe, or minimize trauma. They simply recognize it as real and significant.

Ready-to-Use Responses (for When You’re Too Exhausted to Educate)

Sometimes you simply don’t have the bandwidth to explain why a platitude is harmful, especially when you’re already managing trauma symptoms. Here are some brief, low-conflict responses that neither accept the platitude as truth nor place you in the exhausting position of educator:

When someone says “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”:

• “I’ve found healing is more complicated than that.”
• “My therapist and I are working through a different perspective on trauma.”
• “That hasn’t been my experience, but I appreciate your concern.”

For “Everything happens for a reason”:

• “I’m still working on making sense of my experiences in my own way.”
• “I find it more helpful to focus on healing than reasons right now.”
• “I respect that that perspective works for some people.”

When faced with “Just let it go”:

• “Trauma recovery works differently than most people realize.”
• “I’m working through it at the pace that’s healthiest for me.”
• “My healing journey looks a bit different than that.”

For “Time heals all wounds”:

• “I’m finding that healing takes active work, not just time.”
• “That’s a comforting thought, but trauma is more complex.”
• “I’m focused on the present steps of my recovery rather than waiting.”

When confronted with forgiveness pressure:

• “I’m prioritizing other aspects of healing right now.”
• “My therapist suggests focusing on self-compassion first.”
• “Everyone’s healing journey looks different.”

For “They did their best/didn’t mean it”:

• “Impact matters regardless of intent.”
• “I need to honor my experience right now.”
• “I’m focusing on my healing more than their intentions.”

And for any “At least…” statement:

• “Comparing traumas hasn’t been helpful for my healing.”
• “I’m working on acknowledging my experience without comparison.”
• “My therapist encourages me to validate my own experience fully.”

These responses create a gentle boundary without requiring you to take on the exhausting role of educator. They acknowledge the comment without endorsing it and redirect without confrontation. Most importantly, they protect your energy for what really matters: your healing.

True support for trauma survivors means being willing to sit in the discomfort without reaching for tidy explanations or forced silver linings. It means respecting that recovery isn’t linear, forgiveness isn’t mandatory, and meaning-making is personal.

For survivors reading this: Your trauma did not make you stronger—in fact, you might feel anything but strong. You might feel broken, exhausted, or barely functioning. That’s a valid and common experience after trauma. What’s remarkable isn’t some mythical “strength” you’ve gained, but rather your resilience—your ability to survive despite everything you’ve endured. That resilience isn’t a gift from your trauma; it’s evidence of your fundamental humanity continuing to exist despite attempts to break it.

The endless internal work you do every day—work that most people will never see or understand—isn’t about becoming stronger than before. It’s about reclaiming pieces of yourself, finding moments of safety, and sometimes just making it through another day. There’s profound dignity in that journey, whether you feel “strong” or not.

Healing starts when we trade bumper-sticker wisdom for uncomfortable truths: that trauma isn’t a lesson, strength isn’t owed, and survival—however it looks—is always enough.

Your healing journey belongs to you, not to the expectations or comfort levels of others. And you are absolutely entitled to roll your eyes (internally or externally) the next time someone offers you a platitude instead of genuine support.

The truth isn’t always comfortable, especially for those who haven’t experienced complex trauma. But comfort was never the point. Healing is—and healing starts with honesty, not with pretty lies wrapped in inspirational fonts.

A Note on Neurodivergent Trauma Survivors

Neurodivergent individuals—those with autism, ADHD, sensory processing differences, and other neurological variations—often face unique layers of invalidation when processing trauma. Their natural responses to both trauma and healing may be pathologized or dismissed with statements like:

“You’re just overreacting because of your autism.” “If you could focus better, you’d get over this.” “Your sensory issues are making you too sensitive to what happened.” “You’re just fixating on this because of your OCD.”

These statements compound trauma by using a person’s neurotype against them, suggesting their perception of harm isn’t valid but rather a symptom to be dismissed. For neurodivergent survivors, healing often involves the additional work of separating legitimate trauma responses from the stigma surrounding their neurological differences.

If you’re a neurodivergent trauma survivor, know that your experiences are valid, your perceptions are real, and your unique neurological makeup doesn’t make your trauma any less significant. In fact, the intersection of trauma and neurodivergence deserves specialized understanding and support, not dismissal.

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

Photo Credit: Author, Substack

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

He too knew the darkness, intimately; instinctively, we spoke one another’s language, like siblings do. Yet there was also a darkness in his disparagement of the objectively good place that, against the odds of the ACE score, had become my reality, a darkness that would expand and soon permeate every aspect of our togetherness. 

In the aftermath of this relationship, I learned more about BPD and its overlaps with CPTSD. I concluded that while I had traits of the former, my symptoms overall added up to the latter.

Since cutting off contact with my family of origin a decade ago, my life had grown and healed in ways I never dared hope for, which is indicative of the context-dependent activation of triggers that is characteristic of CPTSD but not BPD (Martin 2026). Nonetheless, the point raised by my ex-partner – who would you be had it not been for your horrendous childhood – touched a nerve and remains difficult to explore. Partly, this is due to the fact that since day one of my professional life, I had aimed to perform and succeed ‘as if’ – as if everything was, and had always been, hunky-dory. The achievements that ensued from that mindset, and from working as if my life depended on it (which, on reflection, it did, as I was unable to maintain a relationship, and relying on my family of origin was not an option), meant that over the years, I would increasingly find myself in rarefied settings, rubbing shoulders with the super-rich. 

At home with the homeless

I had arrived, it would seem, I had made it, at least professionally. But there is a paradox to flourishing as a survivor of childhood abuse. Mingling with highly accomplished and confident people can seem like a betrayal to an inner child who is certain that this is not where we belong. On a social continuum that extends from homeless junkies via those crippled by personality disorders and suffering from CPTSD to those whose emotional and financial affairs are in marvelous shape, is our tribe not that of Gabor Maté’s hungry ghosts?

Pitiful, revolting, filthy, broken addicts whose stench and existential hopelessness are but a stomach-churning testament to the severity of the crimes committed against their younger selves, a deafening silent scream the world cannot ignore, however hard it tries. No, their wordless reproach goes, I am not okay, and neither were the things that happened when I was a child, nor is the fact that nobody cared to ask questions, let alone intervene. Now look away already, you know you want to.

According to my inner child, it is with these people, like with my BPD ex, with whom I will always share an instinctive, kin-like belonging. In contrast, interacting with emotionally healthy, high-functioning, and immaculately groomed folks while nibbling unpronounceable foods at swanky dos involves painstakingly learning a whole new language.

This, foreign to me, idiom is the shibboleth to social and emotional mobility of dizzying proportions, a leap into the world of generations of professional triumph and familial stability. My blending into these circles is the ultimate ‘as if’, an overcoming of childhood adversity so enormous that my inner child feels invisible, more so as the language barrier works both ways: these graceful sophisticates are protected from many of life’s trials through not just their wealth but by many-layered, strong personal bonds and professional networks, and the permanent severing of family ties is not just a delicate and ugly taboo subject but indeed, beyond comprehension and unfathomable.

Connectedness is everything, and so is family. This is a healthy sphere, seemingly with no concept, let alone first-hand knowledge, of the darkness. Of course, my fitting in here is only skin-deep, and my healing only partial. My private life remains non-existent, a vacuum so obvious that it too is a silent scream, telling the untellable story, making sure the inner child does not go ignored. 

The best revenge

And then I kept investing in my recovery. I am incredibly grateful to be alive at a time when I could stumble across the transformative works of Bessel van der Kolk and Richard Schwartz, among others. Eventually, my private life too began to heal, but only after I made a deal with my inner child, telling her that while my life will more and more look ‘as if’, the past will never be denied or forgotten. And that the best revenge is a life well lived.

Alice Segell is a pseudonym. The author is a wife, researcher, writer and survivor.

References:

Martin, Mozelle (2026), ‘When Dysregulation is not what First Appears: Differentiating BPD, CPTSD with Attachment Dysregulation, Trauma-Bonded Anxious Attachment, Chronic Pain Identity, and Long-Term Instability’, https://cptsdfoundation.org/2026/03/24/when-dysregulation-is-not-what-first-appears-differentiating-bpd-cptsd-with-attachment-dysregulation-trauma-bonded-anxious-attachment-chronic-pain-identity-and-long-term-instability/.

Maté, Gabor (2009), In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, Close Encounters with Addiction, Random House Canada.

Schwartz, Richard C. (2023), Introduction to Internal Family Systems: A Revolutionary Therapy for Wholeness & Healing, Vermilion.

van der Kolk, Bessel (2014), The Body Keeps the Score, Brain, Mind and Body in the Healing of Trauma, Penguin.

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

Three little letters, two little words.

It’s the simplest part of the day.

But there’s nothing simple about the things that will remain unsaid.

I do means I do know I could be hurt. But I’m ready to be healed with you.

It means I do want to try.

Even when the fear of failure holds me back.

And I do not know the future, but I’m ready to be surprised along the way.

And I do means I do want your love and I do give you mine.

And nothing we do will ever be the same.

Because you and I will be doing it all together.

Poem written by Dean Batali. Writer of the Final Episode in TV Series Good Witch, Season 3, 2017.

When I think of weddings, I think back to this poem written by Dean Batali for the final episode of Good Witch. These words have since gone viral online, but there isn’t much credit to Dean Batali for his beautiful words.

A wedding day is a day of joy and happiness for most families. It’s the day of the union of two families. A day to celebrate the love between two human beings.

I was once a bride, but my wedding was a mixed bag of emotions. I’m a trauma survivor, and therefore, no family was sitting in half of the room — the bride’s half.

My husband’s side was packed full to the point of bursting, and our friends didn’t know which side to pick. You can imagine how I felt about that. I experienced a pain so great my heart could almost not take it as I looked back into that room. My side was empty. I was alone. Nobody was there to have my back.

Did I want to go through with this day alone? This wasn’t how I had envisioned my happiest day, celebrating with the love of my life next to me.

After a few awkward minutes, a brave older couple decided to stand in as “my parents,” for the ceremony. Within a minute, people shuffled across to even out the seats between the sides. With a lone tear streaking down my face and blurring my vision, I saw them. One by one, moving across to my side, until the room was evenly filled.

It was a gesture of compassion, for me and for my husband. It was them saying that they accept me for who I am. They showed me they understood my decision to live my life alone, without my family. Until that moment in the ceremony, when they claimed me as one of them. When I was officially married.

Marriage is not something to go into lightly. It takes a lot of patience and learning to work together. To give and take, while being prepared to compromise sometimes.

True love doesn’t turn away when you’re angry. Love is patient, and waiting to heal and comfort when you are in pain.

As a trauma survivor, I had never experienced true love. I had no idea what love meant, and I didn’t know what it was like to live in a normal family. My husband showed me the way when I was lost. He guided me back on the right path when I had nightmares. He has been my rock throughout the years, where we have flourished together. That is love.

I started my wedding day alone, and I gained a new family. From that moment, I have not been alone.

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

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

For more about me: www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

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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.

In seventh grade, the children at my middle school traded their Nintendos and Polly Pocket dolls for iPhones and Barbie dolls–in the form of minions for their social cliques. Soon after the school year began, CHABELCK was established, and the name might as well have been trademarked.

So, what was CHABELCK? It was the official name of the “friend group” composed of all the popular girls in our class. I look back and chuckle at the name. They could have worked harder to come up with something catchier; to me, it sounds like the remnants of something a dog threw up! They simply took the initials of their first names and combined them into one word. Almost immediately after the group was created, the term CHABELCK and the girls who held that title loomed over the school, feared by all who encountered them. I took an observer’s perspective, watching in bewilderment as many of my innocent friends neglected our friendship to join CHABELCK–and consequently morphed into power-hungry monsters. 

CHABELCK’s presence at school was boisterous. The group’s name was plastered on binders, folders, and whiteboards. They took over online forums, cyberbullying other students whom they deemed unworthy of a spot in their cool kids’ club. A few members of CHABELCK were ultimately expelled from school, while others were disciplined. 

Groupthink, peer pressure, and tribalism throughout human history

I’ll never forget CHABELCK. It was my first exposure to the aggressive presence of tribalism and groupthink in our society. 

Why does the cacophony of the groups I’ve encountered throughout my life ring louder than the whisper of my own conscience? Humans are social creatures, and tribalism originated as a survival mechanism. We hunted and gathered to protect our own. He who strayed from the tribe vanished into the jaws of the enemy. To be excluded was to die. 

The battle between my internal desires and external expectations

Although tribalism is ingrained in my human DNA, I’m very much a free spirit. From a young age, conformity felt like an internal death sentence. I fought a daily battle between my disdain for Western civilization’s obsession with fortune and fame and my desire to escape into solitude. In environments filled with materialism and superficiality, I felt pressured to be someone I was not in order to be liked and accepted. The seduction of the herd was enticing. 

With every group I tried to join, I was eventually ostracized or, in some cases, viciously bullied out of them. Starting at a new school when I was thirteen, I quickly became the target of a situation of large-group interpersonal cruelty–the first of several such instances. This was the first time I came home from school expressing to my parents that I had thoughts of suicide. I switched schools, but the bullying continued as I navigated new peer environments. I tried hard to fit in, so that I wouldn’t be seen as an antisocial loser. Some mental health providers even pathologized the fact that I didn’t have friends. 

But even if I disregarded others’ opinions, I didn’t need a tyrant to criminalize me as a friendless outcast. Whenever I changed myself to fit in, I became my own jailer. Even when I was initially accepted into social groups, I felt like I had betrayed myself. I hated being like everyone else. The tug-of-war between my authentic self and my desire for acceptance was more painful than the rejection from those whose approval I craved. 

The anatomy of groupthink

I have developed intellectual friendships with social psychologists and philosophers like Arthur Schopenhauer and Solomon Asch, whose research and observations suggest that societal expectations of conformity can strip individuals of their freedom. As I reflected on my personal experiences with groupthink, I noticed some recurring patterns.

While these groups seemed powerful at the time (there is power in numbers, as they say!), they were actually quite weak. Much like the structure of a cult, these groups typically had a leader (or multiple leaders), with followers obediently trailing behind and idolizing them. When I interacted with these group members on an individual level, I noticed they were often insecure and relied on the group for validation. They frequently spoke poorly of other group members and revealed their secrets to me, indicating that their friendships were not genuine and that the group was performative. I recognized that if they spoke about their “friends” in this way to me, they were likely doing the same thing to me behind my back. 

My final straw before rejecting it all

I’ve learned the hard way that the petty high school behavior doesn’t stop after high school. When I moved to the countryside to begin my healing journey, I found myself isolated in a retirement town in the middle of nowhere, with a population of 1,942. I got to know a group of friends there, and was initially invited to their breakfasts and bonfires. I thought I had finally found my people. 

From the get-go, I had an internal inkling that, like with past groups, I would eventually be kicked to the curb. I found myself trying very hard to gain their approval. I changed my personality and overextended my generosity, spending money I didn’t even have in order to remain relevant to them. 

Unfortunately, my gut instincts turned out to be right. After the initial “love-bombing” phase, I was soon deemed unworthy of being in their presence. Around town, they went out of their way to make me feel inferior–snubbing me, humiliating me in front of others, and playing mind games with hot-and-cold behavior. It was bizarre! For months, I ruminated, trying to figure out what I could do to be good enough for this group and to coexist with them in the tiny town without tension. But nothing I did was good enough. 

After a few months of continuous rejection and their attempts to stifle success in my healing, the stress finally took its toll on me. One night, I woke up with itchy legs. My entire body had broken out in hives! Over the next two weeks, I visited the emergency room four times. Each time the ER managed to control the hives, they returned again within 48 hours. I wondered if I had an allergy, and ended up driving to the big city to consult with an allergist. 

Facing the pain of rejection and uncovering subconscious memories

There was no allergy: the hives were stress-related. Yes, the rejection stung (and itched!) that deeply. The rejection didn’t hurt because these people were particularly special; in truth, they barely took the time to get to know me before they discarded me. If it had been strangers behaving this way, I would have brushed it off immediately, reminding myself that their actions stemmed from their own misery and insecurity. However, because I had met these people at the beginning of my cabin journey, they became my final hope of solidifying a friend group I could rely on for the rest of my life. When I was rejected, they became the symbol of all the interpersonal cruelty I had faced during my formative years.

It was painful to be ostracized by the people who promised me they would be on the other side of my success. Still, there was a silver lining: with each instance of being belittled by this group, I brought my feelings to my therapist. Together, we worked through the physical sensations I felt in response to these moments using a technique called brainspotting. During each session, subconscious memories connected to these emotions resurfaced–memories of the hurt I had experienced from groups in my peer environments and religious communities. Through brainspotting work, those buried memories were processed and healed. 

I will no longer participate in it

After years of chasing a dangling carrot held by various groups, I grew tired of hearing, “If you just do this… then you can finally sit with us.” I decided to stop trying to prove that I am “good enough” for these groups and instead realized that I am too good to participate in their infantile behavior. 

My entire life, I had questioned whether these kinds of people wanted to be friends with me. But things changed when I learned to ask myself, “Do I even want to be friends with them?” 

I refuse to march around in aggressive cults and pretend to have disdain for people and groups whose stories I know nothing about. I do not feel superior by making others feel inferior. I find no satisfaction in mocking or intimidating innocent people. I don’t enjoy latching onto narratives or rumors based on hearsay. I cannot bow in submission while my heart screams in protest. I refuse to trade my authenticity for acceptance. 

My path to true freedom

In a world where the crowd roars with confidence, my solitude felt like madness. But when I quieted my mind in the countryside, I discovered that my greatest fear as a radical nonconformist was not the herd itself: it was becoming like the herd. 

Today, I’m not a part of any friend groups, and I don’t want to be. I do almost everything alone, and I actually prefer it that way. Despite how medical providers pathologized my introversion in the past, I now know there is nothing wrong with wanting to be alone. Once I found freedom in my individuality, I no longer needed the approval of those I had previously put on a false pedestal. I’ve built authentic and easygoing friendships with people who have no agenda and do not require me to participate in activities that conflict with my values. 

I will not pretend to be someone I’m not just to feel like I belong. To me, true belonging means being at home within my own soul. I will continue to stand strong on my own two feet and keep my head held high, never surrendering to the crowd.  

Photo by Dibya Jyoti Ghosh on Unsplash

To my readers who have been following my journey: I am excited to share that I have created a personal blog called “Little Cabin Life.” This blog chronicles my healing journey, where I share my experiences and the things I am doing to support my recovery. You’ll also find tips that have been helpful to me along the way. If you’re interested in following my story, please feel free to visit www.littlecabinlife.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 post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

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

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

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

You might find yourself circling questions like:

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

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

Ask Yourself These Questions First

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

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

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

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

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

If You Do Choose to Share, Prepare Yourself First

Here are a few things that can help:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Final Thoughts

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

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

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

And maybe that’s the bravest choice of all.

Photo by Ioann-Mark Kuznietsov on Unsplash

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

“We are the cosmos made conscious, and life is the means by which the universe understands itself.” – Brian Cox, physics professor and musician

Feelings of numbness, detachment, depletion, and pain can be mistaken for an inability to heal, grow, transform, and transcend limitations in your life. In this state, you feel like a wilted flower barely surviving for years in an untended garden. Unknowingly, you possess within you an extraordinary capacity for awareness that will transform how you experience your life.

Embodied awareness is how you experience your Self, while conceptual awareness is merely you thinking about your Self. Embodied awareness takes us into feeling and felt sense perception, which connects us with the power to heal, grow, bloom, and thrive. Our felt sense perception yokes us to our extraordinary human system of intelligence.

Did you know that the human body is a brain with fully distributed intelligence and energy connected to the universe? Quantum biologists seek to understand the extent to which quantum mechanics – in other words, the behavior of matter and energy at the atomic or subatomic level – plays a role in biological processes. Researchers examine quantum interactions, such as those that result in energy conversion, and their impact on biological systems at the molecular level. Research in this area has enhanced our understanding of how living organisms use quantum phenomena to their advantage or, in the case of intelligent and energetically dynamic humans, to make progress (1, 2).

Former Integrative Neuromuscular Therapist, with over 36 thousand client session hours, and founder of Ahyin Quantum Being, Elizabeth Ahyin Graham, is based in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her clinical work was inspired by her college study of quantum physics and its confirmation of the nature of consciousness by ancient wisdom. Through Embodied Cosmology, she now educates clients to understand how their personal consciousness is connected to universal consciousness through embodied awareness. She integrates the principles of trauma care with the science of intentional change to help others gain a deeper understanding of their electromagnetic nature.

“When the time is ripe for change, change is natural. It unfolds from within and it makes us freer to re-create our life according to our life’s purpose.” – Barbara Brennan, writer and spiritual healer

“My healing work derives from a love of great nature and the cosmos. In nature, I can witness the cycles of growth and decay, birth and death, and a harmonious wholeness. Each of us is wired to be inherently intuitive, curious, imaginative, and creative. Alongside my love of nature is my love of learning. Openness to the unknown is key to both healing and learning,” says Liz. “By going deeper into the vastness of our embodied awareness, we contact the intersection of quantum physics and biology to understand how our intelligence interacts with the larger field of existence, particularly through our felt sense perception.”

Liz’s educational background includes a BA in Journalism from the University of Texas at Austin. She was a writer and editor for the college newspaper and art directed the magazine, for which she won multiple Columbia Scholastic Press Awards. “During this period, I made the connection between Eastern philosophy/mysticism and Western quantum physics–it was a ‘light bulb’ moment that integrated everything in my life going forward, personally and professionally,” she says. “I have been innovating in pain treatment, healing, wellness, and creativity to ease suffering and aid in transformation and transcendence ever since.”

“Emerging science and ancient wisdom were doing this beautiful dance, confirming each other and my lifelong experience as a highly intuitive and sensitive person,” says Liz. That coherence between science and spirituality shed a knowing light on her early psychic experiences with sensory perception. Cultivating trust in this energetic awareness became a profound source of her self-empowerment and ability to support change in clients.

Fourteen years into her clinical practice, she entered a Transformative Leadership MA degree program at the California Institute of Integral Studies, founded in 1968 by Dr. Haridas Chaudhuri and his wife, Bina Chaudhuri. The institute was a small institution that grew into the respected and influential voice it is today, at almost 60 years old. The Chaudhuris aimed to give people of all backgrounds and beliefs the opportunity to transform self, society, and earth through integral education and the evolution of consciousness.

“The education further confirmed and deepened my clinical therapeutic innovation as I continued innovating a kinder, gentler neuromuscular pain treatment integrating eastern spiritual wisdom with western science,” Liz says. “In addition to the neuromuscular work, I taught breathwork, used guided visualization, and educated about emotional intelligence, spiritual practice, anatomy and physiology, and nutrition to create a fully integrated embodiment system teaching clients to track their sensations and experiences, and to unwind compensatory use patterns.”

Since stepping away from her clinical practice, Liz has trained with dozens of somatic and embodiment teachers as part of her post-clinical path to creating yet another integrative approach to helping clients harness scientific and spiritual insight for self-empowerment. “I am a certified Buddhist mindfulness meditation teacher through Dharma Moon,” she says. “Unbeknownst to me, my teacher and Dharma Moon founder, David Nichtern, was a student of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, who deeply influenced my spiritual perspective, practice, and healing through his writings in my mid-20s.”

“We are not living in the eternal now where reality is—we are always thinking that the satisfaction of life will be coming later, don’t kid yourself.” – Alan Watts, writer, philosopher, and speaker

“Quantum biology studies the unseen processes of a living universe and living organisms, which classical physics cannot explain. Quantum physics studies the microscopic, but it is still indeterministic and mysterious. It doesn’t attempt to do what most scientific theories do—describe reality,” Liz says. “Biology describes the macroscopic, so combined, we are looking at how energy behaves beneath our conscious awareness to influence biological life and the interconnection of everything.”

Along with an awareness of quantum biology and a connection to the universe, Liz explains that trust and awareness are at the core of her co-creative work with clients. “Trusting in, and being guided by, embodied awareness, we can feel and release our constrictive, habitual patterns to transmute energy (emotion, frequency, felt, sense, history, memory, pain, hopes) consciously. This practice is present with interconnectedness,” she says.

“We tend to spend the majority of our time in conceptual awareness, when we’d do better to become increasingly interoceptive,” Liz says. “When we learn to experience our Selves as part of the Quantum Universe, limitless resources become available for sustenance, connection, creativity, compassion, healing, spiritual growth, and transcendent peace.”

“To be ourselves causes us to be exiled by many others, and yet to comply with what others want causes us to be exiled from ourselves.” – Clarissa Pinkola Estes, writer and psychoanalyst

Clients suffering from chronic pain will find support and grounded methods for transformative healing when working with Liz. “The pain body is at the integral intersection of my clinical and spiritual work. This invisible but felt entity is composed of accumulated emotional pain and the thoughts that arise from even deeper beliefs. Over time, they dictate how we interact with the world and ourselves. Recognizing its presence is the first step towards greater freedom. Through awareness, we can begin to disentangle ourselves from its grip and foster a life led by peace and clarity,” she says. “In practice, this means having the willingness and courage to come into felt-sense contact with both the pain and the energy of healing—observing our reactions, understanding the stories and beliefs at the roots of our pain. Then, we can cultivate a mindful approach to our sensorial experiences. Healing the pain body benefits the individual and ripples out to enrich our collective society.

If you are motivated to connect with greater possibility, to transform the thoughts that hold your limiting beliefs in place, to become deeply present in your embodied awareness, consider working with Liz.

“Logic will take you from point A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere.” – Albert Einstein, theoretical physicist

Personal consciousness is our embodied multidimensional connection to quantum energy and the inexhaustible resource of the universe. “When your ideal collaborates with real action, new resonance emerges to help you transcend the outworn and redream your life,” says Liz. “But first, you must release the known—I think that’s where it gets tricky for many. Transformation involves an intrinsic challenge to what is known, thereby delivering us into the vast possibility of the unknown.”

Contact Elizabeth Graham if you would like to tap into your power to energize your daily life, heal, and grow into the vibrant human being you know you can be.

Disclaimer: The content of this article is for informational purposes only and should not be considered professional medical advice.

References

1. The future of quantum biology | Royal Society. May 4, 2023. Accessed May 13, 2025. https://royalsociety.org/blog/2019/02/the-future-of-quantum-biology/
2. Clarice D. Aiello. Quantum Biology: Unlocking the Mysteries of How Life Works. SciTech Daily. Published online May 21, 2023. Accessed May 15, 2025. https://scitechdaily.com/quantum-biology-unlocking-the-mysteries-of-how-life-works/

Photo by Niklas Ohlrogge (niamoh.de) 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.

The Advent Season

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

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

Celebrating Christmas

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

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

I wish you all a happy and joyful Christmas!

With Love,

Elizabeth

Photo by Yevhen Buzuk on Unsplash

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

Understanding the Impact of CPTSD on Personality

Trauma fundamentally changes how individuals view themselves, others, and the world around them. In CPTSD, the effects are often pervasive, shaping emotions, beliefs, and behaviours. Common personality changes may include hypervigilance, where individuals are constantly alert to potential danger, and persistent low self-worth, driven by feelings of guilt or shame. Many people with CPTSD also experience emotional dysregulation, where they struggle to manage intense emotions, often cycling through anger, sadness, or anxiety. These changes are survival mechanisms developed during periods of trauma but tend to persist, disrupting relationships and everyday life even when danger has passed.

How CPTSD Impacts Trust

Trust is one of the most significant casualties of prolonged trauma. The very essence of CPTSD involves a betrayal of safety, which creates deep-seated mistrust in people, systems, and even oneself.

For individuals with CPTSD, trusting others often feels unsafe or even dangerous. Relationships may be approached with suspicion, skepticism, or outright avoidance, as they constantly anticipate betrayal. Conversely, some survivors may overextend trust to gain approval or prevent rejection, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation or re-traumatisation.

Trust issues also extend inward. Many survivors struggle with self-doubt, questioning their own perceptions, decisions, or worth. This internalised mistrust can feel paralysing, preventing individuals from confidently navigating relationships or decisions. Furthermore, fear of intimacy often develops, as the vulnerability required for deep connections triggers reminders of past betrayals, leading to emotional walls and isolation.

Personality Changes Over Time

The cumulative impact of trust issues and trauma responses often leads to significant long-term personality changes. While not universal, many people with CPTSD experience heightened sensitivity to rejection. This can cause intense emotional reactions to perceived slights, even if unintentional.

Defensive behaviours are also common, such as isolating from others or relying on perfectionism as a means of control and protection. These coping mechanisms, while initially protective, can prevent individuals from forming meaningful connections or embracing growth.

Chronic guilt or shame also becomes a dominant trait for many. Survivors of prolonged trauma often internalise their experiences, believing they are fundamentally flawed or to blame for their suffering. These beliefs shape identity and self-esteem, making it difficult to engage confidently with the world.

Lastly, relationships may oscillate between extremes of closeness and distancing as survivors struggle to balance the fear of abandonment with the need for connection. This dynamic can lead to cycles of idealisation and devaluation, further complicating personal and social interactions.

The Path to Healing and Growth

While CPTSD creates significant challenges, healing and growth are attainable with the right tools and support. Rebuilding trust and addressing personality changes involves small, intentional steps and a willingness to confront past wounds.

• Seek Trauma-Informed Therapy: Approaches like EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing), Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), or Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT) are highly effective in addressing trauma’s root causes and teaching new coping mechanisms.
• Rebuild Trust Gradually: Begin by trusting yourself through small commitments and achievable goals. Surround yourself with safe individuals who demonstrate reliability and respect.
• Practice Self-Compassion: Healing guilt and shame starts with kindness toward yourself. Techniques like mindfulness, journaling, and affirmations can challenge negative beliefs and reinforce your worth.
• Develop Healthy Boundaries: Learn to set and maintain boundaries in relationships, protecting your emotional and mental space while fostering mutual respect.

Engage in Support Networks: Whether through support groups, friends, or community resources, connecting with others who understand your journey can provide strength and validation.

A Journey of Transformation

The effects of CPTSD on trust and personality are deeply ingrained but not insurmountable. Healing requires patience, persistence, and support from trusted professionals and networks. Through intentional effort, survivors can begin to rebuild their sense of self, reclaim their resilience, and foster healthier, more fulfilling relationships.

While the road to recovery may be challenging, it also offers opportunities for profound transformation. By addressing the wounds of the past, individuals with CPTSD can step into a future defined not by their trauma but by their strength, growth, and renewed ability to trust.

If you have been impacted by betrayal, you might like to check out my blog, Betrayal Trauma & CPTSD. https://cptsdfoundation.org/2022/09/22/betrayal-trauma-cptsd/

Photo from Unsplash: timo-stern-EvcUtLF12XQ-unsplash.jpg

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.

Do you notice a heaviness, a higher level of fear and worry?

There are so many important topics—the economy, equal rights, climate change, reproductive rights, housing, food insecurity, everyday safety in the schools, the workplace, the world—can it be literally everything?

Each day, it might feel as though there’s something new to tolerate. The world can feel heavy, and it’s taking a toll. More people than ever before are walking around in emotional dysregulation. The result is decreased stress tolerance—acting and responding from a triggered place. So, what do we do?

First, let’s look at what’s going on…

When people are walking around worried and fearful outside their windows of emotional tolerance — they are essentially living in survival mode, where adult brains are not totally online. This can impair the ability to make healthy choices. The result of this survival?

• using alcohol or other substances
• using food or restriction, binging, or over-exercising
• using self-harm or other dissociative mechanisms to feel less badly
• responding to people, situations, or scenarios from a place of fear
• kids who are being labeled ‘bad’ (versus recognizing their pain)
• having no bandwidth, being short-fused — driving aggressively, yelling more often
• feeling depleted — having no energy to do life and experience the joy

If you’re feeling this heaviness, I see you!

As a trauma survivor on the journey of healing, you are likely learning tools like tuning into your needs with compassion, calming your nervous system, and surviving today’s current events in the least harmful way possible. You are learning to cope with the hard parts of life — and the state of the world today certainly falls into this category.

How can we feel better, even when things are hard?

Here are two important steps:

1. Notice you are safe.

Trauma survivors generally walk around with a heightened sense of fear or feeling of looming danger. Can you be present in your current life?  Are you able to notice safety for yourself today?

Noticing you are safe today is something to practice — a way to ground yourself in the moment of NOW, whether you’re in your house, with friends, or outside in nature. Even when things in life feel heavy and hard, you can tune into the safety inside yourself. When you are feeling calm (enough) and safe (enough), notice it. You deserve to have those moments of relief.

2. Use your powers of creativity.

Trauma survivors are amazingly creative — crafting effective coping mechanisms at a young age to survive! It’s time to tap into that power. You can generate more calming, peaceful, and even safe moments in your life to create more balance. The more positive moments we have — the more strength we build to balance the difficult moments and learn to function from the window of emotional tolerance — allowing for a more regulated nervous system.

CREATE good moments in your life … even if they seem small. Joyful, silly, positive moments have massive benefits:

• They make hard things feel more manageable
• They calm our nervous systems
• They bring positive energy to others
• They bring feelings of connection and shared humanity

This means your creativity as a trauma survivor can help you today!

And it can help you tomorrow! As an adult who is currently safe, you can make active choices — even amidst the heaviness — that will help you feel better in the moment and in the long term!  You can take action!  You can exert your power!

Rewiring how we feel in hard situations.

Do you know about neuroplasticity? This is the brain’s ability to build new pathways — to understand life from a different lens. This rebuilding occurs as you learn to adapt based on new experiences. The pathways you originally learned through the brain’s ability to adapt are how you learned to keep yourself safe and survive the trauma, and stay living in a traumatized brain. Today, as a safe adult, it is neuroplasticity with your different life circumstances experienced and noticed that will enable you to rewire your nervous system away from worry and towards safety.

Each time we notice safety or give ourselves or receive a compassionate lens, this puts the power of neuroplasticity into action and can start to rewire our brains to experience more joy and safety and naturally expand our windows of tolerance so that we can hold both positive and negative feelings.

Ready to create safety and joy? Here are 8 ideas to spark your creativity:

1. Bring light into life — move your desk to a sunnier window — feel and see the day differently.
2. Bring comfort — put on your cozy slippers — and notice the cozy feeling of calm.
3. Bring energy — blast your favorite song and sing or dance around and notice your joy.
4. Enhance connection — schedule an 8-minute call with a friend and feel connected.
5. Bring laughter — do something silly — hide a note in your partner’s bag or give your coworker an apple with googly eyes and notice how you feel as you laugh in the present day.
6. Bring new movement — take a class at a dance studio and notice what it is like to learn something new.
7. Nurture — care for a plant (or even better, you!) and notice what it’s like to give and receive your compassion.
8. Bring nourishment — learn a new recipe to feed your soul and notice what it is like to feel full of care.

Today, I want you to add a healthy, joyful moment to your day.

You are in charge! You have full reign to create happy moments in your current daily life.

Smile at someone.

Notice when someone smiles at you.

Sit in your car and listen to your favorite song before doing that hard thing.

Bring a travel mug of warm tea with you.

Wave at crossing guards.

Pick up the phone and call someone you care about.

Put your feet in your coziest slippers and notice that moment.

Take it in.

Notice you deserve it!

Relish it.

You can notice the good. You can create the good!

Yes, there is trauma around us every day. It feels scary and hard. AND — What can we do about it? How can we make it better? How can we be curious, compassionate, and clarity-seeking to creatively find healthy ways out? How can we bring joy and connection to those around us?

What we do every day becomes our norm — and if we can string together enough moments, the good will outweigh the bad.

If you are ready to explore the possibility of therapy, please reach out.

Originally appeared on Brickel & Associates

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.