Thoughts on C-PTSD

In the modern day, there are many people who read or hear about a concept or mental disorder and decide after a fair amount of Google-fu that they have whatever disorder they saw on the internet.

I am not that person. I am diagnosed by a professional Psychologist as having Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder — C-PTSD.

I will talk about my experience with it in a moment, but first I want to clarify what C-PTSD is.

C-PTSD is NOT the same thing as PTSD.

PTSD is from one traumatic event or period in ones life, such as a veteran returning home from war. In the old days after WWI, it was called Shell-shock, and it described the mental state and the behavior of the returning soldiers who struggled to adapt to civilian life. Returning soldiers would have violent nightmares, or flashbacks to horrific events randomly throughout the day, they might isolate from normal activities and be ‘on edge’ or angry and have emotional outbursts that seem ill-fitting for the situation. When people say PTSD or even C-PTSD, this is normally people’s understanding of what it is. PTSD isn’t just for soldiers or war, the people that witnessed the fall of the World Trade Center towers could, and many did, experience PTSD from the trauma of witnessing that event. The key difference is that PTSD is usually related to one event or one period of time where they witnessed or experienced something traumatizing. C-PTSD on the other hand, is more nuanced. It’s all in that first word C for ‘Complex’— which indicates multiple traumatic or highly emotionally stressful events. Things like a child getting repeatedly screamed at for very minor infractions for the course of their entire childhood will have them acting emotionally withdrawn and highly anxious or reactive as an adult, when they encounter conflict.

This is my story as someone formally diagnosed with C-PTSD.

In an earlier blog post about addiction, I talked about my father’s alcoholism, and that is where many of the roots of my trauma take hold, but it isn’t that clear cut.

I was never sexually assaulted as a child, and for many years I believed that since that never happened to me, that my pain wasn’t real. As a teenager, I worked as a lifeguard at my local YMCA, and part of our training was awareness on the 4 types of abuse: physical, sexual, mental/emotional, and neglect. I knew that my father was abusive, but because I was never touched inappropriately, and he stopped beating on me when I was about 10, I was convinced that what I endured wasn’t “that bad”, since the worst of it wasn’t ongoing, and this lead to a lot of back and forth internally for years. Was I really abused? Can I really call it trauma? Short answer: yes.

My mother was someone who enjoyed the fight. When he would go low, she would take it straight to hell. She’s a good foot shorter than he is, but it never stopped her from getting in his face. Dad’s alcoholism and his time spent working on violent prisons as a guard in the 80’s and 90’s, as well as his own unresolved trauma made him incredibly reactive. Mom would egg him on until they were both screaming, throwing random stuff and hurling the most jaw-dropping insults at each other, and meanwhile, I’m locked behind my bedroom door with my ear pressed against it, heart racing, waiting for the worst to happen.

Was it every night? No. Was it even every week? no. It was sporadic and unpredictable. Anything could set my father off. If you said ‘hello’ in a tone he didn’t like he would get aggressive.

I’ve had him chase me down a drive way screaming “get back here you little bitch!”

I’ve seen him throw cellphones into mirrors, throw TVs, throw chairs into windows and watch the glass shatter everywhere. I’ve been in the backseat while he swerves all over the road driving intoxicated. I’ve seen and heard him attack my mom and brother, even going so far as to plant knives in my brother’s dresser so he can draw them out for a knife fight.

C-PTSD looks different for different people, and it all comes down to how much they’ve processed it (if at all), as well as the severity and their own interpretation of it. For me, C-PTSD put me deeply in touch with anger, with rage, but more than that, it is something that affects me now, even years later.

My C-PTSD looks like this: chronic insomnia for over 10 years, needing OTC sleep supplements to induce sleep, frequent nightmares and waking up screaming or crying. When things were still fresh, I had auditory hallucinations. I would hear men screaming or would hear someone yelling my name, while being completely awake and sober. They sounded so real that when it first began I would panic and search around the house because I was convinced someone was there, even if I knew I was alone. Occasionally, I’d have visual hallucinations that would be of human-shaped shadow figures. I was incredibly anxious everywhere I went in public, always needing to sit in restaurants with my back to a wall or facing an exit, always looking for applicable exits or routes to drive off if I felt unsafe. I also flinch a lot, especially if a man raises his voice or moves too suddenly towards me.

Over the years, my C-PTSD symptoms have lessened in frequency and intensity. CBT (talk therapy) has been moderately helpful, EMDR has been helpful although reliving those events is quite hard on me, learning about it and reading books like ‘The Body Keeps Score’ by Bessel Van Der Kolk, and ‘Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving’ by Pete Walker has also had positive impacts on me.

C-PTSD changes a person for forever, but recovery and living a happy life is absolutely possible! One of my favorite sentiments is the idea that it’s not your fault what happened to you, but it IS your responsibility to heal and to learn about it and process it. I’m very outspoken about what happened to me in childhood and my young adulthood because I recognize that the shame is not mine to carry (that phrase is a mantra I repeat often), and it’s been a vehicle to connecting with other people on a deeper level— which is beautiful, humbling, and inspiring. Talking to others has taught me that everyone HAS trauma in their past or will experience it at some point, but not everyone develops C-PTSD/PTSD from trauma, as Van Der Kolk writes about in his book. Still, everyone has a story, and the more you talk about yours, the more you are letting go of that emotional weight, and the more you open the floor for other people to see the real you, and it often makes them feel safe opening up about what they’ve been through — and this is what it’s all about. When I say ‘invest in people - they’re always worth it’, I mean this: be real, be raw, be vulnerable, be willing to grow from whatever happened, and allow others to see you, and you’ll see yourself in them. This is part of cultivating real social cohesion and community. I know that some folks think it’s cringey, and call it ‘trauma dumping’ but to me, that carries an unnecessary condescending tone.

In conclusion- life is meant to be lived out loud. Trauma doesn’t define you or predict how your story develops. You are not whatever happened to you, it doesn’t define you. It is not your burden or cross to bury, but it can be something you learn from, it can be part of your story that helps you love other people effectively. I still love my alcoholic father despite the abandonment and the torment, and not in a ‘Christian love’ way, but with compassion all the same.

Thank you for reading. <3