Yesterday, I time-traveled. Not in the cool, H.G. Wells, steampunk kind of way, but the CPTSD way. The no warning, no mercy, full-body flashback kind of way. The time machine? A body spray. Specifically, the Old Spice Superman limited edition. Yeah. A superhero-branded deodorant did me in. But this wasn’t about smelling fresh. This was […]
The Impact Of Leaving Survival Mode
For 40 years, I lived in constant survival mode, running on fear, stuck in fight-or-flight, exhausted but pushing forward anyway. I had no idea I was running myself into the ground. I thought I was just doing what I had to do to exist. Then, about a decade ago, I began therapy, and I started […]
Why Self-Validation Matters After Childhood Trauma
Growing up with abuse and never being able to ask for help, the idea of speaking up felt completely foreign. I had nobody to turn to, and deep down, I didn’t think I’d be believed. For 40 years, I carried that secret. Looking back, desperation seemed to be the theme of my formative years. Desperate […]
Trauma Doesn’t Make You Stronger: A Journey of Healing
There is no truth to people saying that trauma makes you stronger. The fact is, it doesn’t. Trauma breaks you. It eats you alive and spits you back out in tiny pieces that you no longer recognize, and what is left are complex problems that you spend the next how many years trying to work […]
Overcoming the Superman Complex in CPTSD Healing
Being a major fan of DC comics and, more specifically, Superman, I was thrilled to hear the term “Superman Complex” used in therapy; it had my inner child jumping for joy. It seemed to me like a compliment. To have this and to be perceived in this way was kind of cool. Who wouldn’t want […]
Reclaiming My Body, Reclaiming My Story
For most of my life, I’ve struggled to accept the person I see in the mirror. But it’s never been about insecurity, not in the way people usually mean it. My discomfort with my appearance goes deeper than surface-level doubt. It’s rooted in childhood trauma, in abuse that left my body feeling like a prison. […]