I’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. Of childhood and adolescent emotional and psychological trauma. Narcissistic abuse. An adult child of parents who were drug and alcohol addicted. A recovering codependent, control freak, and perfectionist.

And, I have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or CPTSD.

But for most of my life, I didn’t know it.

I didn’t know that the things I went through and how I was treated by the people I loved was called “abuse.”

I didn’t know that many of the relationships I had throughout every stage of my life were considered “toxic,” “dysfunctional,” and resulted in “emotional and psychological trauma.”

I didn’t know that the lifestyle my parents led meant they were alcohol and drug addicted and that the term for me was “an adult child.”

And, because I was looking at the things in my childhood from an adult lens, I told myself “it wasn’t that bad.” I didn’t see some of the things I went through as “life-threatening.”

Instead, I felt ashamed. Ashamed not only of what I went through but ashamed to feel anything about any of it. Because in my mind, the things I went through paled in comparison to what others had to go through.

Instead, I learned to stay silent.

On the inside, I felt like I was screaming at the top of my lungs without a voice while the world around me burned to the ground.

I was on constant high alert waiting for the next sign that danger was coming.

As I got older, being highly aware served me well in my professional life – it made me highly detailed, organized, and able to anticipate change.

In my personal life, it was a totally different story.

I was either “emotional,” or to the other extreme – focused, driven, and I wanted things “just so.” I was accused of being too sensitive, too controlling, selfish, or told that I “just didn’t understand because I was an only child.”

To make matters worse, if I felt stressed, anxious, or trapped, then my desire to control got more intense, or my emotions started spilling over the dam I’d built to hold them in. Sometimes, the dam burst wide open.

This led to even more criticism, and the loss of relationships that I thought were real. Thought were secure.

I felt wrongly imprisoned by those that judged me like they weren’t seeing the truth of who I really was on the inside. Like I was screaming out, “No! This isn’t ME, you don’t understand!”

Very few really heard me.

I desperately wanted to feel like I “fit”. With my parents, my community, my friends, my co-workers, and with my extended family, but it felt like I just… didn’t.

So, instead, I tried to fix me. I tried to mold myself into what I thought others wanted and not “act out.”

I was driven to “perform” in all areas of my life. To be perfect. School, work, marriage, motherhood.

It was like a 24/7 juggling act.

Spin the plates… hold ‘em steady… disaster strikes/plates break… everyone hears the crash… pretend like it didn’t happen… scramble to get new plates… get the plates back in the air so everyone’s happy… repeat.

This became my pattern and I didn’t even realize it.

In my mid-20’s I experienced a wake-up call that made me see that I had been living my life in a fog. Like I’d been on autopilot. But just as I felt this sense of awakening, within 2 years both my parents passed away, I had a baby with a birth injury, and was laid off from my job. I was devastated. I’d never lost anyone so close and I felt like I had failed as a wife and mother.

So I went back to what I knew and tried to take my juggling act to the next level.

But I struggled to cope. I felt trapped inside an endless tornado. After living so many years in the fog, I could finally see it lifting. But then I was not only trapped in the thick of it again, it was worse than ever. I felt so lost.

I was desperate for answers. I knew that the lifestyle my parents chose (of coping with drugs and alcohol) wasn’t what I wanted for myself or my family. I also wanted to feel in control of my health, my body, my family, and my life.

I read books about personal growth, healing from grief, clearing emotions, and heroines who slayed their dragons.

I tried meditation techniques, daily affirmations, changed my diet, exercised, took natural remedies, herbs, and everything in between.

Some of those things helped. I felt like there were times when I thought there might be light ahead, but most of the time, I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff just waiting for my foot to slip.

Throughout life we have to deal with so many things. So many changes, and things that absolutely rock our world.

So while I was trying to perform my juggling act to keep going after the loss of my parents and my baby’s surgery and therapy, life kept moving and throwing me more curve balls.

I started dropping the plates more often. So often I just couldn’t keep up the act.

So I isolated myself even more, in order to save others from me. I didn’t want to keep losing relationships or hurt the people I loved so I tried even more to stay silent about how I really felt. I shared less and kept the distance more.

But on the inside, I felt like I was constantly on the edge of a hole, waiting to fall in at any moment.

And I felt like I was still crying out with no voice.

Despite all the chaos in my inner and outer worlds, in my heart I believed there was a better way, so I kept searching for answers. I wanted to find a way to be the person I believed I was. To find a way to be seen.

So I dedicated myself to being healthier in every area of my life. Better nutrition, more boundaries, and using the tools that I thought would help me keep it all “at bay.” This meant being strict with myself in all areas. There was no margin for error.

At one point I felt like I had it all figured out. Like I had the rhythm down of how to keep all the plates spinning. I tried to accept that it was as good as it was going to get.

Living in my fortress, I armed myself with the weapons and tools I needed to survive.

But it felt like it was all on the verge of crashing down at any moment. No matter how hard I worked, it seemed as though there was something lurking in the shadows that just wouldn’t go away. The dark parts of me that others didn’t want to see that I desperately tried to contain.

In the Fall of 2015, I started to give up hope. I’d changed everything I could change, eliminated toxic relationships, had a regimented diet, and had removed almost every stressor in my life, to the point where we moved away. We started over.

But there was something still there, right under the surface. No matter what I did, it was still there. So I started to believe that maybe everyone was right, that I really was selfish, overly sensitive, unaware, and disrespectful. I started to believe I WAS a horrible person like I felt that everyone made me out to be.

Then, life shifted again and I found myself in the middle of a storm I didn’t expect.

I felt like I was out of my league. I couldn’t keep spinning the plates and I was worn out. I realized I HAD to find an answer.

I’d been diagnosed with PTSD in the past, but I thought the diagnosis was wrong. I thought PTSD meant having bad dreams and night terrors, or recurring thoughts (flashbacks) about the past. And since the majority of the seemingly random and intense feelings I was experiencing didn’t fit into those categories, it didn’t make sense to me.

So, I would walk away from those “diagnosis” sessions feeling even more isolated. I felt like a failure because I’d tried to seek help and walked away feeling misunderstood, so I would withdraw even more. I felt alone.

But when a friend of mine shared her story and what she’d learned about PTSD and CPTSD, it struck a chord.

So I made an appointment with a Therapist that specializes in trauma.

Maybe it was because things had hit another extreme. Maybe it was because the understanding within the mental health community about the effect trauma has on the mind and body had evolved. Maybe it was because I was finally ready to hear it.

But the day that I sat and listened as the Therapist explained how our thought, emotional, and behavioral patterns begin, how we experience stress and trauma in a physical sense through our autonomic nervous system, and how chronic trauma impacts these patterns, I cried.

I was overwhelmed with feelings of both relief and anger at the same time. I knew he was right, but it wasn’t the answer I wanted.

The key that I had been trying so desperately to find, the mystery I had been trying so hard to unravel, and the plates I’d worked so hard to keep spinning were all symptoms related to having chronic and acute childhood and adolescent trauma.

The Truth Behind Trauma

From a “clinical” perspective, a diagnosis of PTSD is based on whether or not you meet a certain set of criteria, including:

• Being exposed to: death, threatened death, actual or threatened serious injury, or actual or threatened sexual violence (which can be direct or indirect)
• You persistently re-experience the event
• You avoid trauma related reminders (thoughts or feelings, people, places, objects, the list goes on….)
• You have negative thoughts or feelings that began or worsened after the trauma
• You have reactions that began or worsened after the trauma
• Your symptoms last for 1 month or longer
• Your symptoms create distress or keep you from functioning in some area of your life (work, socializing, etc.)
• Your symptoms are not associated with using a medication, substance abuse, or some other illness.

(Source: National Center for PTSD)

For a complete explanation regarding the criteria used to diagnose PTSD, see PTSD and DSM-5 by The National Center for PTSD.

CPTSD isn’t mentioned in the DSM-5 because it was believed that it was sufficient to lump it together with other trauma-related disorders including PTSD. However, CPTSD is different in that the trauma is longer-lasting or repeated and the symptoms are more severe. For this reason, there are those advocating for it to receive its own classification in the next edition of the DSM.

If you’re trying to understand if what you’re feeling is related to trauma, however, then reading the “clinical criteria” may not be enough.

This is how I like to explain it…

You’re out for the night with one of your favorite people.

You’re sitting out on the patio of your favorite restaurant.

It’s a warm summer night. There’s a soft glow around you from the candlelight on the table and the outdoor patio lights.

There’s a band playing inside playing covers of your favorite songs. You can see them playing from where you’re sitting, but still enjoy your conversation.

The food is amazing. The server is friendly, attentive, and personal. You feel like you’ve known them for years.

You feel connected, relaxed, and like you fit with where you are in that moment.

It’s the best night you’ve ever had.

Now, imagine you drive by that restaurant a year later.

What will you think of?

You’ll think of that night, right?

But, you won’t just see the “picture” of the memory. You’ll FEEL it. Deep inside, you’ll feel how connected and whole you felt. You’ll think of the love you had in your heart for your favorite person. How awesome the sound of the music was, and how it made you feel. How the server made you feel special. You might even remember how the food smelled.

Because your unconscious mind is designed to remember everything you experience so that it can signal the rest of your body when to relax and when to react. It catalogs what you experience from a psychological level (mental), but also from a visceral level (body).

Essentially, the “memories” you have of what you experience aren’t just what you see in your mind’s eye, but they’re also BODY memories. So while your conscious mind may see the “picture,” and think about the facts or your perception of the event, your body remembers how it felt.

Think about what that really means.

It means that when you remember something, whether it’s good or bad, you aren’t just thinking about it, you are physically feeling the memory of it in EVERY cell in your body.

Now imagine if you experienced something traumatic at the restaurant that night instead.

If you drove by a year later, you’d remember everything you saw, heard, and FELT.

From the simple act of thinking about something that happened to you, you’re experiencing the same symptoms as when it was happening to you.

Not fun. At all.

Instead of a flood of warm and pleasant emotions and sensations in your body, you’re in a waking nightmare.

This is what re-experiencing trauma feels like.

Something that reminds you of a traumatic event is called a “trigger.”

A trigger can be a

• person (this can be a specific person or relationship traits like someone being codependent)
• place
• material object
• a social setting (like being in a crowd or something specific like a bar-b-que where there are certain activities happening)
• anything involving any of your senses such as something you hear, smell, taste, or feel (physically or emotionally)

A trigger is anything that causes you to re-experience something.

When you are re-experiencing an event as a result of being triggered, this is called being activated.

The physical and emotional reactions that you have resulting from a traumatic event are normal reactions to abnormal events.

Some common symptoms associated with PTSD are:

• Reliving the event (also called re-experiencing symptoms).
• Avoiding situations that remind you of the event.
• Negative changes in beliefs and feelings (the way you think about yourself and others)
• Feeling keyed up (also called hyperarousal).

(Source: National Center for PTSD)

You may also experience physical symptoms such as fatigue, racing heartbeat, agitation, aches and pains, and muscle tension.

Complex PTSD forms in response to both acute and chronic traumatization over the course of months or, more often years, such as chronic sexual, psychological, physical abuse and neglect. It is repeated interpersonal violence that leaves the victim, feeling trapped with no hope of escape or of imminent death.

The symptoms associated with Complex PTSD that are IN ADDITION to those associated with PTSD are:

• Problems with Emotional Regulation – this may include having a difficult time experiencing, expressing, and controlling emotions as well as persistent sadness, thoughts of suicide, explosive anger, being inable to express emotions, or having sudden mood swings. One common symptom survivors encounter is re-experiencing childhood trauma through emotional flashbacks.
• Difficulty with Relationships – may include having trouble forming and holding intimate relationships, feeling isolated, difficulties with trust or being too trusting.
• Difficulties with Self-Perception – may include feeling detached from oneself, different from others, feels of shame or guilt, or feeling worthy of dignity and respect.
• Attachment to the Perpetrator – may include feeling like there is a need to protect the abuser, feeling guilt or sadness in leaving their abuser, feeling inadequate to manage life without their perpetrator in the picture, or becoming obsessed with revenge on the perpetrator.
• An Interruption of the Survivor’s System of Meanings – may include feeling a loss of spiritual attachment and either ignoring or depending on religion for self-worth, and having an interrupted sense of self which leads to a struggle to maintain faith or belief that justice, ethics, and morality are real.

(Source: ACEs Connection)

CPTSD can be life-altering, affecting everything you think and feel about yourself, your environment, and everyone around you.

For me, at its mildest, I feel frustrated, lost, or confused. At its extreme, I feel like I’m stuck in a little boat in the middle of the ocean during a raging storm. The boat has water coming in everywhere, but I can’t even think about that because I’m spending all my energy just trying to keep the sails up.

Even though it was hard (brutal in fact) to see the reality behind all my symptoms, it also was the first step in helping me heal.

At first, it felt like a life sentence. Something I would be imprisoned by forever.

But, as I learned how CPTSD shows up emotionally AND physically, then I realized that having that understanding was extremely powerful. It helped me feel like I wasn’t crazy. That I wasn’t reacting for no reason. That I was valid.

It gave me a direction. A map of what to look for, so that when I saw or felt symptoms coming to the surface I knew what was happening rather than feeling blindsided by something I didn’t expect.

And once I knew what I was facing, I was able to arm myself with the right tools.

Today, rather than feeling like I’m always walking on the edge of a cliff, I feel like I’m forging ahead, climbing to the top of the mountain on a solid path.

Like starting a new workout routine, it’s taken time for me to gain my strength, but as I’ve gotten better at identifying and managing my symptoms, it’s allowed me to find freedom.

The freedom to be ME and to heal.

Dealing with the symptoms of psychological trauma can be overwhelming, especially when you’re trying to live everyday life.

It’s important to know that your reactions to trauma are normal, but they don’t have to be your new normal.

Healing and recovery are possible.

For some tips on recovering from trauma, check out this great article from HelpGuide, Emotional and Psychological Trauma, Healing from Trauma and Moving On.

References:

National Center for PTSD. PTSD and DSM-5, U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, accessed 27 June 2019, <https://www.ptsd.va.gov/professional/treat/essentials/dsm5_ptsd.asp#one>

National Center for PTSD. PTSD Basics, U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, accessed 27 July 2020, <https://www.ptsd.va.gov/understand/what/ptsd_basics.asp>

ACEs Connection. What is Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD)?, Matthew Pappas, accessed 27 July 2020, <https://www.acesconnection.com/blog/what-is-complex-post-traumatic-stress-disorder-cptsd>

Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash