Living with CPTSD is difficult, and it does make some days harder than others to navigate.
On these days that hit us the most, it can often feel like a constant drumbeat. But it’s not a sound; instead, it’s the constant psychological beat inside our heads. The feeling of not being worthy and feeling unlovable. Everything you do is wrong. The feeling of being a burden. And it doesn’t matter how many people around us tell us differently. Those thoughts are there, and it can be mentally exhausting.
The feeling of hopelessness is so severe on these days that, as someone who suffers from cPTSD, I can honestly understand why individuals use a crutch to mask the emotional turmoil that goes on inside their minds. Be it alcohol or drugs, it’s not the solution by any means, but I completely understand it, as it is their only way to find any relief, as fleeting as that relief may be.
Everything inside my mind becomes foggy and unbearable.
On the days where I have a cPTSD episode, I tend to detach from everyone. I get so overwhelmed and frustrated that I go into flight mode. Everything inside my mind becomes foggy and unbearable. It feels like a heavy weight has been placed inside my brain, and gravity is forcing it to crush my skull, and there is nothing I can do at that moment in time. I have to let it run its course and hope that it eventually subsides and I feel a sense of normality again. Until it does, sadness and hopelessness manifest and take control. It’s those very days that I hate being who I am. I have no control over how long it will last, either. It can be hours, or, in some cases, it can last a few days.
I do my best to practice self-care when I am going through my cPTSD. It’s not always easy, but I have learned through therapy that, in order to take back some control, I have to force myself to do things. To get outside. I sit by the water, which I find really helpful. To also allow myself to feel and not fall into the trap of trying to ignore those very feelings. To numb myself to it. I also practice mindfulness and pay attention to any sensations that I may feel in my body throughout the day. The more positive things I do, the more I can train my body to accept new stimuli and develop a foundation of safety and regulation, so I can experience more capacity to process my trauma.
Then there is my pesky inner critic. It almost feels like scar tissue. Constantly reminding me that I am not good enough and nobody loves me. That’s the part that needs soothing and constant reassurance. It’s the part I am in constant battle with at the moment and the part I have to acknowledge. It’s a definite process and one that takes patience and time. Suffering from cPTSD is an invisible debilitation that makes life scary, and it doesn’t need to be. Especially when you put in the work, and on those days that are harder than others, the tools I have do help. And importantly, I am doing my best to never allow myself to lose sight of the things that make me feel joy and free and that my cPTSD will not get the better of me.