My Nervous System is a Red Flag (And I’m Done Apologizing For It)
I’m going to throw this out there: Those of us living with CPTSD are walking red flags.
Yes, that may hit hard. It might even make you want to close the page. However, let’s be real, living with CPTSD often means our boundaries, triggers, and responses can be louder, messier, or more obvious than we’d like.
In fact, if you looked at my nervous system on paper, you’d probably run for the hills. I’m reactive, I’m hyper-vigilant, and my boundaries are built like a fortress.
Typically, in the “wellness” or even the “dating” world, we talk about red flags like they are character flaws. We’re told to “avoid people with baggage” as if humans aren’t meant to carry things. But for the CPTSD crew, our “red flags” aren’t signs of malice; rather, they are survival mechanisms. Ultimately, when you’ve spent a lifetime in a war zone, you don’t just “relax” because the scenery changed. Your body stays in the trenches.
What They See vs. What’s Actually Happening
Furthermore, if you’re looking at us from the outside, you see “difficult” behavior. But if you look under the hood, the data tells a different story:
The Fortress Boundaries
What they see: rigid, cold
What’s actually happening: Once upon a time, our “No” was ignored or punished. Now, we build walls because we’re the only ones who showed up to defend the perimeter.
The Reactive Fuse
What they see: overreacting to a small critique
What’s actually happening: System override. The brain isn’t responding to a “late text”; it’s responding to a historical pattern of abandonment.
Mind-Reading Anxiety
What they see: clingy, insecure
What’s actually happening: Olympic-level micro-expression reading. In our past, missing a look meant getting hit, physically or emotionally.
The Irony of the “Messy” Survivor
There is a twist to this, though. Being a “walking red flag” often makes us the most self-aware people in the room. Instead of just having moods, we have data points and checklists. We spend our lives studying the mechanics of our own brains just to stay functional.
Most “healthy” people get to walk through life blissfully unaware of their triggers. We don’t have that luxury. We are part-time mechanics for our own souls, constantly tightening the bolts and checking the oil while the engine is still screaming.
So, yeah. Maybe I am a red flag. But remember, a red flag is just a signal that says, “Proceed with caution; there is something significant happening here.” If my nervous system is a fortress, it’s because I’m the one who had to rebuild it after it was razed to the ground. I’m not “too much,” but rather a high-performance survivor who is done apologizing for the noise my healing makes, and anyone reading this should be, too. After all, if people can’t handle the “red flag” of our survival, they definitely don’t deserve the loyalty and depth of the person who survived it.
Survival Mode Isn’t a Life Sentence
Importantly, being a walking red flag doesn’t mean we’re doomed to be “too much” forever. It just means our nervous system learned early how to survive, and that survival toolkit doesn’t switch off overnight.
Ultimately, recovery isn’t about erasing the red flags. It’s about learning to read them, manage them, and even honor them. Every boundary, every hyper-vigilant reaction, and every moment of anxiety is a signal from a nervous system that kept you alive when it mattered most.
So, in the end, the goal isn’t perfection. It’s awareness. It’s choosing how to respond instead of being hijacked by old wiring. And it’s taking a system that was built for war and learning to live in peace, gradually, painfully, and beautifully.
A Checklist: Is it a “Red Flag” or a System Override?
When you feel that internal siren going off, use this checklist to figure out if you’re being “toxic” or if your nervous system is just trying to win a war that ended years ago.
[ ] Check the Timeline: Is my reaction about what is happening right now, or am I responding to a “data point” from ten years ago? (Example: They didn’t text back for an hour. Am I mad at them, or am I reliving the feeling of being ignored by someone who didn’t care?)
[ ] Scan the Body: Is my heart racing, my jaw clenched, or my breath shallow? If yes, this isn’t a “personality trait”, it’s a physiological hijack. My body thinks we are in danger.
[ ] Audit the Boundary: Am I setting this boundary to protect my peace, or am I using it as a weapon to punish someone else? A “fortress” boundary protects; a “red flag” boundary attacks.
[ ] Name the Survival Skill: Which “war-time” skill is currently active? Am I mind-reading? Am I in “Freeze” mode? Am I being hyper-vigilant? Naming it takes away its power.
[ ] Communicate the Glitch: Can I tell the person involved: “Hey, my nervous system is currently flagging this as a threat. I need ten minutes to ground myself before we keep talking.”?
The Bottom Line: You aren’t a broken person; you’re a person with a very loud, very protective security system. The goal isn’t to tear the system out, it’s to learn how to turn off the false alarms.
Photo by Maksym Kaharlytskyi on Unsplash