Complex Trauma (C-PTSD): The Gift that Keeps on Triggering
Hey, it’s your Gossip Girl of mental health, here to give you the 411 on chronic trauma (C-PTSD).
When I started this blog, my goal was to raise awareness about mental health, particularly living with C-PTSD. But in all the “excitement” (read: dissociation, panic, and gaslighting), I never really explained what that means.
Before we dive in, I’ll be real with you—talking about my feelings is HARD. I might have tackled some scary things in life, but being vulnerable? That’s a whole other level of scary. It feels like stepping onto a shooting range, hoping the shooters will stop before you get hit. Letting my guard down goes against everything I’ve been taught, and it feels anything but natural. So, be gentle with me, okay?
Here’s another little secret added to your 2-for-1 combo deal: I have no idea how this post will turn out. I’ve been sitting on it for a while because I’m not sure it even makes sense. C-PTSD is disorienting by nature, and true to the symptoms, thinking of myself as an expert on the subject feels…wrong, for lack of a better word. But let’s see where this goes, shall we?
About two and a half years ago, in one of my first therapy sessions, I was grappling with this alphabet soup diagnosis: C-PTSD. I’d heard of PTSD, but C-PTSD seemed like a catch-all for childhood trauma. Maybe I was projecting (okay, I definitely was), but the last thing I wanted attached to my name were letters other than “MBA”.
Bambi (left) and Lola (right) aren't naturally cuddly dogs but one week post-breakup and one month into therapy, I think they could sense the emotions.
Labeling my feelings was terrifying because once something has a label, it becomes real, tangible—a problem I couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t gaslight myself into thinking it wasn’t real anymore. I had to confront it. Pretty ironic for a psychology major who once-upon-a-time wanted a career in mental health, right?
What Is C-PTSD? Understanding Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
So, let’s start with the basics (I promise this won’t be a full-blown psychology lesson). C-PTSD stands for “complex post-traumatic stress disorder,” which results from experiencing prolonged trauma. It’s often linked to childhood trauma, but it can also stem from adult experiences, like sexual violence. Some of us are lucky in checking both boxes. *Insert upside-down smiley face* C-PTSD is closely related to PTSD and borderline personality disorder. Here are a few symptoms I personally experience:
Anxiety & hypervigilance
Dissociation
Having “amygdala hijacking” or “emotional flashbacks”
Imagine the ghosts of Christmas past grabbing you in real-time to a memory that is painful. That’s what this is. Except there are no guides to take you through the experience, and there’s nothing you can do to change the memory. You can only relive it. With therapy, you learn how to relive it in a way that doesn’t break you down…as much. Dissociation (aka spacing out, just more aggressively) can happen as a form of self-protection.
Avoiding trauma-related situations, places, etc.
I think avoidance, in general, is a common thing. For me, I avoid anything that feels too big, overwhelming, or even emotionally charged (good or bad) because it’s just a lot to live through in a moment where life is just a lot.
“Hyperarousal” or heightened emotional responses (the flight response)
This can include impulsivity, irritability, aggressiveness, sleeplessness, feeling “on edge.” Lately, it feels like the fuse is about an inch long—there’s been some progress, but still not there yet. Taking those initial deep breaths to pause and get grounded is the hardest. Sometimes I just want to be left alone because it feels like others are just taking, taking, gone until there’s nothing left of me for myself. And I’m tired. Hence why relationships can be hard, even when the people who have chosen to stay have been amazing people. I’m blessed those loved ones called me out on this one because I would be missing them right now.
“Hypoarousal” or the freeze response
This includes brain fog, disconnectedness, and emotional numbness. It’s taken a long time to get back to hobbies because of hypoarousal. It includes not wanting to do things that you typically like or talk to the people you care about because it feels like too much.
Struggles with emotion regulation, identity and sense of self, and relationships
Think: tall highs and deep lows, very committed one day and then unsure the next, and sometimes being proud of the work you’ve done while other times convincing yourself you’re a con artist. Self-limiting beliefs are very strong: “I am unworthy,” “I am a bad person,” “I am undeserving of love.”
I could go on, but I’m not a doctor. Instead of reinventing the wheel, I’ll link some resources at the end for those who want to dive deeper. This isn’t a diagnostic post—it’s more of a perspective blog. As we continue, I’ll try to make these symptoms and diagnoses more relatable for those who haven’t lived through them. And if you have (and are comfortable), please share your experiences in the comments.
WOAH! Big breath. Okay, done with the “dry” technical stuff.
C-PTSD Symptoms: Anxiety, Flashbacks, and More All in a Weekly Glance
But C-PTSD is kinda intense. And it’s also kinda hard to explain from a day-to-day lens. Essentially, every day, every situation can look and feel different. Some days are normal, other days borderline a blur, sometimes everything’s triggering, and rarely, you’ll have some on-top-of-the-world days.
The inconsistency is the hardest part. It often feels like you’re taking two steps forward and three steps back, falling into a cycle of gaslighting yourself, then feeling exhausted from it. It’s a constant battle between fight and flight responses, a tug-of-war of emotions, thoughts, and actions. One day you’re your worst enemy, and the next, your best advocate.
Walk through the week with me, wearing my shoes for a minute.
Monday starts strong. You’ve got mental energy, and you’re productive. Your priorities are clear—setting up informational interviews, writing this blog, prepping its social media, and working on job applications.
Tuesday rolls around and you’re thinking that Monday was great but you could’ve done more. Maybe your morning is okay but that Kermit voice of anxiety hovers over your shoulder until you finally admit, okay maybe you don’t know what you’re doing and need to change directions. Like the busy bee you probably adapted to be, you do a 180 and work on a different project, hoping to catch up to the new priority you established at 11:55am when full panic mode set in. You probably work until midnight, running on pure cortisol.
Wednesday just sucks. There’s no sugarcoating it—you don’t even want to be awake because being awake feels like self-inflicted torture. Your thoughts belong on a Nascar track, with a million questions racing in your head: “Am I doing enough? Am I doing it right? Why am I even doing this?” The worst memories pop up, making you feel like you’re the common denominator in every problem.
By Thursday, irritability and anger set in. Insomnia has taken hold, transforming you into Oscar the Grouch. When people comment on your behavior, you take it personally, as if it’s a reflection of who you are rather than your situation. Especially when you lash out.
Then Friday rolls around, and hypoarousal kicks in. You wake up late, skip breakfast until the afternoon because you can’t muster the energy to even toast some bread, and spend the day indoors. You think about how nice it would be to paint, but the thought of even prepping the brushes feels exhausting. The hours blur together as you zone out in front of a screen, not even remembering what you were watching.
And if you’re hit with an emotional flashback, you might stay stuck in that Friday feeling all weekend. You try to pretend you’re okay, but if someone’s paying close attention, they’ll notice you zoning out, being clumsy, or just speaking in cliff-hangers where sentences just drop off…
The Road to Recovery: EMDR Therapy and Coping Reflections
Navigating these landmines of triggers is tricky. You never know what’s lurking beneath the surface until you step on it and make a mess. After the impact—or the lash-out—you have to take a step back, reflect, and figure out how to avoid it next time. That’s just the first step. Then comes the tough part: swallowing your pride, apologizing, and trying to catch it faster next time. It’s a slow, inch-by-inch process that demands mental bandwidth you often don’t have. Most of the time, you’re just exhausted, and thinking about it all is overwhelming.
Honestly, even explaining all this is… well, exhausting.
But despite the bad and the ugly, there have been beautiful moments in this journey. I’ve learned a lot about myself, even the stuff I wish wasn’t true. But that also means I have the opportunity to be better. I’ve met and loved people who have accepted me with all my jaded edges and gaping holes. I’ve discovered real love: through God, myself, and my new and old friends. And I’ve learned that even when it’s hard, or even when I don’t want to, I can always start over. I will be okay. And I deserve to be more than okay.
My recent treatment plan includes Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) therapy. It’s helped me reprocess some other traumatic memories and mindsets. One day (soon I hope) is that I’ll write a tell-all on my origin villain story. But for the meantime, I’m thankful to have been in therapy for 2.5 years to challenge some of the negative mindsets developed in response to survival. And though I might be discontinuing my service soon (thank you American healthcare system!), on my good days, I am (pretty) confident that I can manage through the rest of this journey, along with the support of those who have been there from day one.
The thing is, I’m not crazy. And if you have a mental health diagnosis, you’re not either. Stop gaslighting yourself (that’s tough love, my love). Accept where you are, take the breath you’ve been holding (you didn’t even know you were doing that, huh?), and give yourself grace. Now, you’re ready to tackle not the world, not even the day, but just one step and one breath at a time.
I am not C-PTSD. I just live through it. Sometimes it colors my personality, but it does not define me—it just changes the lens through which I see the world.
Let’s stop surviving and start thriving. If any of this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Drop a comment below or share your own experience—let’s keep this conversation going. Together, we can support each other through the tough times and celebrate the beautiful moments.
A flower mural in Houston, Texas that inspired me to reframe some of my trauma experiences.
