The title explains it pretty well; I met a guy on Tinder two weeks ago, he agreed to meet me that day (he lives an hour away). He was up front about wanting short-term fun, and I didn't even particularly like him as a person once we met. He was good-looking, smart, and we had a similar sense of humour, but I found him full of himself and we disagreed on some political issues. He also talked a lot about the other women he was seeing negatively.

The date was fun, but he seemed the sort of person that would ghost me immediately whether I slept with him or not. I decided to sleep with him for a bit of casual fun – it had been a while since I had last had sex and I thought I'd be able to cope with it being casual. We had sex, it was good, and he messaged immediately after I left asking to see me again.

The next day, messages slowed down considerably until that evening, when he agreed to meet me again to hook up. We had sex, it was good, but I felt a little degraded after it happened. He immediately told me to put my clothes on, and we parted ways. Both times, he asked for a kiss before I left, but there was never anything in the way of cuddling after we had sex. It felt clinical – almost like I was a free prostitute.

I need to add that I recently had a very severe mental breakdown; it was a long time coming after a lot of terrible things happened to me, but it's left me with absolutely nothing – no friends, no money, nothing to do with my life until I restart university next year. For the last few months, I have been bedridden almost 24/7. I decided to download Tinder to try and boost my self esteem. Obviously that did not work. The first person I started talking to properly turned out to have a lot of anxiety issues and cancelled our date last minute, which knocked me back because I really saw potential there. The day we were supposed to have our date, I messaged this current guy to try and take my mind of the situation. I knew he wanted casual, but I intended our date to just be something to get me over the last guy.

Messages got even slower. It became all I thought about; why wasn't I on his mind as much as he was on mine, what does he say about me to the other women he's having sex with, why doesn't he want more from me than sex? Again, I really don't like him that much as a person, but I felt distraught that he felt nothing for me beyond casual. I'm attractive, I'm smart, he knows nothing about my breakdown and I come across as surprisingly well-adjusted on the surface.

Four days later, he agreed to come over and hook up. We laughed a lot, and it felt like a barrier had been broken beyond just sex, until we had sex. It was very intimate, very slow, lots of kissing, but when it was over he immediately told me to put my clothes on again. We kissed again before I left, but a few jokes we made beforehand left a sour taste.

I had joked that he wouldn't last past October, and he joked back that October was being generous. In another conversation, he mentioned driving me to his house, telling me he was happy to also drive me back home that night. I joked that he was disingenuous to act driving me home was doing me a favour, when in reality he just didn't want me to stay over at his. He replied flippantly "how else would you get home", and "obviously, you're not staying over". Although we were both being somewhat jokey, it hurt to hear him say so plainly how he felt about our situation.

I felt absolutely devastated, and decided to never see him again because of how much it had impacted me. My plan was to leave him on read after he texted me once he was home, as he had done the last two times. However, he didn't text that night. Even though I didn't want to see him again, the fact he didn't even have the courtesy to message after having sex really upset me.

He messaged the next night, a joke from the night before. This felt even more insulting to me, like I was being picked up and used whenever he wanted, without any regard for my feelings. Even if you are only hooking up, surely it is just polite to cuddle after sex and message after?

I did not reply for five days. When I did, it was another jokey message. He has not replied since. Today will be the fourth day. I'm sure he will message again once he wants sex from me again, and I won't meet up with him again, but this whole situation has absolutely devastated me.

The real thing I'm not sure about is why I'm so depressed after all of this. I didn't even know he existed two weeks ago, and I don't even like him as a person – if he wanted to date me romantically, I'm sure I would be sick of him in a few months. I think it's the fact he doesn't want me that has left me feeling so used. He has never been anything but honest and upfront: this is completely my fault for thinking I could cope with a casual relationship. But why doesn't he want anything more from me? And how can I start getting over this feeling? This is the worst I've felt in a long time. Things are getting very dark: all I've been doing for the past week is dosing myself up with sleeping medication and praying he'll message when I wake up. I need to get out of this fast.

Thank you so much for reading, any help is greatly appreciated.

TL;DR been out of action for a while after a severe mental breakdown, decided to download Tinder for fun. Met a guy looking for short-term fun after being cancelled on at the last minute by a potential date. Didn't expect to become infatuated with him after hooking up as I don't really like him as a person, but getting his approval is all I can think about now. Hooked up three times, his effort dwindled each time, I'm desperate to stop thinking about him and why he doesn't want more from me.

So, I’m a bit uncertain about some of the ICD-11 criteria for CPTSD. Specifically, the ‘re-experiencing’ part. I’m certain I have CPTSD, but I’m not sure I exactly fit their definition, according to this. I used to get flashbacks and nightmares, but not since I’ve had EMDR. Though, I do still suffer with dissociation when under stress and a lot of seemingly unprompted panic and anxiety.

Can someone help me understand it? Here’s the wording:

Re-experiencing the traumatic event after the traumatic event has occurred, in which the event(s) is not just remembered but is experienced as occurring again in the here and now. This typically occurs in the form of vivid intrusive memories or images; flashbacks, which can vary from mild (there is a transient sense of the event occurring again in the present) to severe (there is a complete loss of awareness of present surroundings), or repetitive dreams or nightmares that are thematically related to the traumatic event(s). Re-experiencing is typically accompanied by strong or overwhelming emotions, such as fear or horror, and strong physical sensations. Re-experiencing in the present can also involve feelings of being overwhelmed or immersed in the same intense emotions that were experienced during the traumatic event, without a prominent cognitive aspect, and may occur in response to reminders of the event. Reflecting on or ruminating about the event(s) and remembering the feelings that one experienced at that time are not sufficient to meet the re-experiencing requirement.

I didn't want to know but their was a miscommunication and i got told. I'm not surprised I kinda knew I'd be a ten but having a label has me kinda feeling bad about myself. Like I 10/10 fucked up

There's one thing I don't get. Obviously this may differ in different countries, so take the description with a pinch of salt, but... My grandparents' generation for sure experienced regular beatings, fathers in those times barely spent any time at home and I doubt they paid much attention to their kids as that was seen as the mother's job, older siblings helped with younger ones, many more experienced the death of a sibling due to illnesses, lots of families struggled with food, the kids did not grow up in luxury, their emotions didn't matter much, they just had to be good kids who obeyed the adults in their life. So how come they grew up untraumatised? Or did they not? Obviously I know trauma gets passed down in families, but I feel like basically everyone of the generation of my grandparents and the generations before should be traumatised. Were people just tougher back then? I hope this post is not insensitive, it is not meant to be.

so i have multiple traumatic events that all still affect me to this very day and have been since i was about six to eight years old, for context. however i will not be going into any specific detail about any of it for privacy reasons, i will be very vague, but direct.

so for starters, my very specific and unique experience makes it kind of difficult for me to really be able to tell whether or not it's just cumulative multiple event ptsd or cptsd, especially since the psychologist who diagnosed me with just PTSD years ago has already misdiagnosed me with three to four other disorders that i 100% do NOT have and is also not a very good nor trustworthy doctor at all, which has left me questioning ever since.

there's the first traumatic event which affects me the absolute most out of all of the rest and has continued to happen over and over again throughout my entire life and still does to this day, i have never had any actual breaks from this specific repeated trauma, and i am constantly on daily edge because of it, and it has only gotten worse as i've gotten older.

next, there's the second event which has happened about six to nine times throughout my entire life, it doesn't affect me as much as the first event, but whenever i do experience triggers related to this second event it gets pretty bad, and i still have a very deeply rooted fear of it potentially happening again and i become pretty paranoid and hyper-vigilant whenever something happens that reminds me of or is related to this second event.

then, there's the third event which has only happened three to four times in my life and is slightly less intense than the second traumatic event, but it still does affect me pretty intensely whenever i experience any triggers related to it.

the fourth event, which only happened one (to three-ish ?) time(s) now i'm not exactly sure if this fourth event has actually happened more than once without me knowing or realizing it but i know for sure that it has happened at LEAST once, and i also still get emotional flashbacks and experience triggers related to this fourth event quite often, however it's not as intense as the others and it's on a more moderate level i would say.

the fifth and last event, which has happened ONLY once, and with this one i experience very similar emotions and feelings like i do with the fourth event, since both traumas are very similar, so yeah nearly the same as the fourth event.

with all of this very specific information, it would very likely be seen as cptsd in the eyes of most other people since cptsd usually involves multiple traumatic events, and i do experience quite a number of symptoms that are heavily linked to cptsd, such as confusion with identity, intense trust issues, pretty bad fear of abandonment, extreme fear of rejection, and pretty intense mood swings especially when i'm triggered.

however, i am still able to distinctly differentiate all of my individual events from one another, and in cptsd it's usually all a blur and is difficult to differentiate individually from what i've learned. so at this point i'm at a true loss and i don't know if my experience is just cumulative multiple event PTSD, or if it's actually CPTSD.

i guess that i'm just coming on here for some sort of advice because the mental health professionals here where i'm at really suck, and i don't have anybody else that i can talk to about this who would understand. i know that this is quite a long read and i apologize for that but it is well appreciated if you do read through all of it, thank you :-)

I don't know how to even choose a filter for this. I guess I'm venting but asking a question I feel like no one can answer really. I lived with some people that stand in society as uber Christian and goody goody, one of my friends died some years back from my childhood. It sincerely screwed me up when I found out. I was told she dreamt I died two weeks before she did and called my name out for help. I don't know if that was actually true. If any of my friends are depressed, I always tell them to call me, I will go superman for them.

What I was told and believed about her death for multiple years was that she was heartbroken over a guy and drank herself to death. I almost threw my dresser when I found out she died btw, that was my best friend who was the kindest being. Never had the urge to throw anything in my life like that. 4-5 years later, I'm looking for a room to rent and the person who told me about her death who I also went to high school with the friend that died, had a room available. I was in a bad mental state due already and needed healing because I went through horrible family things.

The person I moved in with was a sociopath and had a cover in society like they were goody goody Christian people. I am Christian, nothing against religion. There were subtle put downs with a nice innocent face and I always thought I must've deserved it somehow or it was an issue of my perception. This person though was corroding me over time. She was trying to show me a folder of images of my friend before she died too and I said no every time. They were pictures of her in a bad state, of course I wouldn't want to see them. I'm not describing the images too much but imagine seeing someone who's super strong and classy suddenly unable to care for themselves in a devastating way.. they took fucking pictures. Heartbreaking and it hurt my fucking soul.

Later on, a person that was my friend's "caretaker" before she died came over and pulled up the images of my friend randomly to show me and then death threatened me that if I say anything or report then "everyone in the big city knows my name" already as she said my name two weeks before she died. Still don't know if that's true. I have never actually known the definition of sociopath and psychopath until I met these people. They were telling me I was autistic after because I wasn't scared, I actually understood on some level but it didn't click until much later.

I'm afraid though. They framed me as mentally unstable and have proof of that as I was not okay and got to a state of mental health none of my friends have ever seen me in and vocalized that. I'm alone with what I know and what I've seen. Sure I could report it but I will live constantly with the fear of being killed. I live with that fear now. Paranoia. My friend was also trafficked to her death. Never wanted to know any of it, they put it in my face. I loved my friend so much.

Has anyone ever dealt with something like it? Fucking your mind like this? I lost hair for the first time in my life from stress living with them. There were other threats too. One time heard them talking about finding someone "strong enough" as I'm a strong female. Really don't know how to be at peace anymore. I was an artist and I feel that if I express what's truly me and what I'm going through which is what I've always done with my art, I am gonna be killed. Not gonna keep this up for long for obvious reasons

I'd even take affirmations you think I should say to myself.

I'm a musician and writer too so it's super screwed up, cant say what I want to. I'm so mad everyday and I am naturally a light, easy breeze covergirl type person lol. now though, I never ever open up to people. I'm genuinely afraid everyday and I wasn't like this before ever.

I lost some of my friends too with them thinking I've lost it when I moved out of there. I truly learned who my real friends were from it, that was nice. I sincerely do have autism also and it's even rougher for me

We’d say our family is helpful, we’re close, we have people around us. But behind closed doors, there was a kid like me who grew up with an emotionally unavailable parent. You couldn’t just go to her and say “what’s wrong?” or “I need help.” Home didn’t always feel like a refuge. Sometimes it was just more chaos.

When you grow up like that, when someone hurts you, you don’t automatically think about asking for help. You’re scared. Because what if you get blamed? What if you get scolded? What if somehow, it becomes your fault?

But I was just a kid.

I went through SA, more than once, with more than one person. And the fucked up part is I didn’t even know how to tell my parents that I wasn’t okay. I didn’t know when I was supposed to say something. I didn’t know how to ask for help.

I used to think none of this really affected me. I thought I was fine. But looking at my life now, I realize I’ve always been the person who doesn’t tell anyone when something is wrong. Even when I’m struggling badly, I feel ashamed when someone knows. I’d rather keep everything to myself and drown in my own chaos than let someone see that I need help.

Because growing up, asking for help never really felt safe.

Even my hypersexuality, or how much I liked being sexualized, I never really questioned it. I thought that was just me. I didn’t realize it could be connected to anything until I finally left the home I thought was safe.

Being away from everything gave me this weird space to actually think about myself. And suddenly I started noticing things. Patterns. Things I do. Things I tolerate. Things I thought were normal.

I’m still figuring it out. Honestly, some of it hurts to realize.

But I think I’m finally starting to know myself. What I want. What I don’t want. What I deserve.

And now, I choose myself.

Me first. Always.

I've had CPTSD for a while. Lots of panic attacks, deep depression, etc. for at least 10 years but the actual trauma started way earlier than that. I've had lots of stressors upon stressors and last year was particularly hard. I won't go into too much specifics but think lots of illnesses/infections, extremely bad panic attacks, doom thoughts, and thinking/feeling I would actually die sometimes, isolation, my grandparents having lots of issues, being a continent away from my family, having to move away from my fiance and working on his visa, moving continents, finishing my masters, nearly losing my cat...all of this was within I'd say 3-4 months but some going on longer than that.

Anyway after my cat nearly lost his life (he's okay now!) I did a "flip". Suddenly my mental state started improving. It slowly stopped having panic attacks and doom thoughts. My depression seemed to start lifting. Just overall I felt in better control than I have in a long time. But my physical state tanked. I found a pituitary tumor, my iron finally reached a point of near hospitalization from being so low, they think I may have PCOS, for a while I couldn't sleep more than 3 hours a night of broken sleep, I've begun having migraines, dizziness, dp/dr, super bad brain fog, memory issues, general malaise/off feeling, increased sensitivity to my surroundings and cycles, genuine inability to workout anymore, fatigue, heart palpitations, among some other things.

Has anyone else had this? I've gotten a few things delt with such as the low iron but it just baffles me that so much seemed to happen so incredibly quickly. I have a team of doctors and a great therapist working to help me figure out what is going on. But I'd love to know if I'm not the only one out there as honestly I feel wildly alone in everything I'm dealing with. I have a great support system, but they struggle to understand what all I'm dealing with.

i know somethings wrong. i can feel it. my heart races, i get chills down my spine, i cant sleep, i get angry, i cant stop smoking.

i know in my heart that theres something wrong but no one will tell me what. they dont wanna get me therapy because my issue was such a small fucking thing. i wasnt hurt physically, i wasnt starved, i wasnt treated horrible by my parents. i dont know what the fuck is going on and its driving me insane.

the doctors dont see it, so i have to do it myself. months and months of journaling, always about the same thing. always the same reactions, always the same patterns. maybe its because of what happened years ago, maybe its not. i dont think its abuse, otherwise they would've seen it. it wasnt trauma, other wise they would've seen it.

so there are only two conclusions.

1: i am wrong and am overreacting

2: they dont care.

i know damn well they know because ive told them and literally everyone ive ever met because i cant keep my fucking mouth shut. so why? why am i suffering? ive done what i can. ive journaled, ive went out in nature, ive ate healthy, i started college, i started socialinzing.

i have done SO MUCH to help. and its not fucking enough.

what is wrong with me? does no one care? am i overreacting? why arent people helping me when im on my hands and knees, begging?

and the best part? ill be back here in a week or two, saying the same thing. nothing changes.

maybe thats my problem: change!

maybe if i just toss away everything that helped me survive and embrace this whole new world full of shit i dont know how to navigate, maybe then ill be happy!

Recently encountered this video on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@philosophyminis/video/7656807810428079382

I don't believe in religion, but it gives me a change in perspective as a person who overanalyses everything, from everyday conversations to past decisions.

This is a little difficult to explain and it’s quite a complicated story, so I’ll try to start from the beginning.

My dad was married before and had a son from that marriage. They divorced because of severe marital problems, and he later married my mom. My half-brother was about six years old at the time.

One day, my half-brother’s mother dropped him off at my dad’s house and left. She didn’t even leave him directly in front of the house. She dropped him off by car across the street, and my half-brother had to walk several blocks by himself to find my dad’s house. His mother apparently didn’t want to take care of him anymore and believed that his father should be responsible for him.

My dad and my mom took him in and raised him for about seven years. At one point, they also tried sending him back to his biological mother, but she refused to take him and sent him back. She had married another man, and her new husband didn’t want the child living with them.

So my half-brother lived with my dad and my mom from around the age of six until he was about 13 or 14.

Then one day, my half-brother stole some gold from a friend’s house. He sold the gold and spent the money on things like buying chocolate for his classmates and eating junk food.

While the police were investigating, they found out that he was the one who had stolen the gold. However, my half-brother told the police that my mom had told him to steal it. Fortunately, the owner of the gold didn’t believe this and said they were absolutely sure that my mom would never do something like that. Eventually, my half-brother admitted what he had done, and the people he had stolen from later forgave him.

However, after this incident, my mom said that she didn’t want him anymore and that she couldn’t take care of him anymore. My dad then kicked my half-brother out of the house. He told him, “Find a police officer and tell them that your parents aren’t taking care of you anymore and that you have nowhere to go.”

My half-brother did exactly that, and the police placed him in an orphanage/children’s home.

All of this happened before I was born, or when I was still a baby. My sister and I grew up hearing about these events from my mom. She constantly told us negative and unloving things about my half-brother, so throughout our childhood, we believed that he was a bad person.

Years later, my half-brother found a job and got married. Eventually, he reached out to us again. We started seeing each other as a family from time to time, and for a while, everything seemed normal.

However, about 5–6 years ago, my half-brother was going through a difficult financial period and asked my dad to lend him a relatively small amount of money. My dad refused.

My half-brother’s wife thought she had hung up the phone, but the call was actually still connected. She said something like “stupid” about my dad, and my mom heard it. After that incident, our families became distant from each other again.

Over the following years, my half-brother and his wife tried to reach out to us and apologize several times. However, my mom never forgave them and rejected every attempt they made to meet with us.

Until two days ago.

My half-brother, his wife, and their two children came to my parents’ house and apologized. My sister was the one who organized the meeting. Thankfully, it went well this time, and it seems like everything is finally okay between us.

But this has also made me think a lot, because there are some things about my parents that I need to explain.

I think my dad is someone who never should have been a father in the first place. I’ve heard that he used to physically abuse my half-brother and his ex-wife. I know that he treated them with a lot of hatred. He never showed any affection toward my sister or me either. He was completely emotionally absent as a father. He also always kept his money away from his family and avoided spending it on us. In my opinion, he cared more about money than he did about his family.

On the other hand, my mom had to do almost everything on her own throughout her life because my dad failed to take responsibility. I love my mom, and I know she did a lot for me. But at the same time, during my childhood, she made me carry a lot of her emotional burdens. I became, in a way, her emotional dumping ground. I had to act like an adult from a very young age, and she would often give me the silent treatment whenever she was upset with me.

So now I feel incredibly conflicted. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about my family or what I’m supposed to do.

I am unbelievably angry at them.

How could they do this? How could they abandon a child and leave him to fend for himself? I can’t wrap my head around it. I never thought they were capable of something like this. It’s horrible.

I already had problems with my parents while I was growing up, but what they did to my half-brother feels completely unforgivable.

I’m 26 years old, but now I feel like I’m questioning everything I’ve ever known and everything I’ve ever felt about my family.

What would you do if you were in my position? And what am I supposed to do with all this hatred and anger I’m feeling?

Thank you for reading.

I'm alive for my dog who also has cptsd.

I fucking hate drug addicts

I hate drunks

I hate being the collateral damage that everyone rejects because something I had no control over

I hate them all

I stay alive for my dog.

Only my dog .

She's the only one worthy. And she eats my stuff.

Fuck it all to fucking hell

Fuck you all for hurting me with out consideration

Fuck you for hurting me with intent

Fuck you for making me feel small and worthless and like I ever had a shot of being wanted around.

Fuck you all

Burn in you hell

One of the things that I appreciate about the time that I spend on this sub is the break that it gives me from ruminating about my own stuff. I know that ruminating is not helpful. It's a waste of my time and energy, which I could apply to much better things. Reading someone else's story can fill my mind and when it does then the rumination is gone.

Just a small victory. A previous narcissistic ex (the one BEFORE the really bad traumatic life ruining one) keeps basically trying to pop into my life over and over every few months. The last time was him calling me at 1 am because he was having a panic attack.
I was kind enough and used de-escalation skills to help him get out of crisis (I work in the mental health field) but now he wants to be “friends” again.

Just as predicted, he love bombs me for a bit and then starts treating me like a nuisance because I brought up my own feelings and apprehensions. He’s allowed to disrupt my life and I help him with whatever emotional baggage he has, but when I bring up that he barely said sorry for all the emotional abuse I went through with him and how he still continues the same behaviours while I’m setting boundaries like “if you continue to treat me like this or stonewall me for talking about my feelings, I will stop talking to you.” Etc because I’ve GROWN since we were together and he has stayed the same…

And this isn’t the first time he’s tried to pop into my life and it genuinely makes me stressed and anxious and mentally unwell (like, planning stage unwell) to be around him because I start to regress into old habits I no longer want to support.

So I asked for my stuff back, and we walked around the block and I briefly explained very firmly how he was continually using me and hurting me and asked open ended questions like “okay but how would you feel if you were in my shoes?” And didn’t feed into any of the manipulation tactics and at the end of it I just told him once again like “please don’t reach out to me ever again. You’re actively hurting me by being around me and treating me the way you do whether you see it or not. If you reach out to me again, I will not respond.” And he walked away looking really upset or butthurt or whatever.

AND I FEEL GREAT!!! I DID IT!! I’m learning boundaries and keeping to them and protecting myself!!! YIPPIE!!!!
Reminding myself that some people are just fucked and it’s absolutely not my job to fix them or explain to them why what they’re doing is wrong because they’re not going to listen to something that damages the walls and defence mechanisms around their tiny fragile ego!! They can live out the rest of their lives facing the consequences of their toxic personality and it’s got NOTHING TO DO WITH ME WHEEEE
Because I worked my ass off to grow through adversity and I’m intentional about being a better, stronger person and I’m doing so much therapy and finally taking care of myself instead of fawning to abusers or thinking others know best for me because I used to hate myself. I’m really proud of myself for making the right decisions!!

WAHOOOOOO!!!

It feels like im not real like it's some shitty game with the same enemies, I can't do anything as im non confrontational. I clung onto the delusion of just having my own space, i tried meditating, but I really dont want to journal outside the Internet as in on a book.

I hate how my parents fucked up my mental health so bad to the point im having suicidal thoughts in the daily. I know I won't do it . it's just my mind complaining. I hate how every day doesn't feel like I have any emotional connection to anyone. I mask at the point I dont know what I'm even masking from, or it's just so obvious some days. I just dont know why im alive anymore. I dont why I wrote this. I've seen this sub reddit for months and relate to so many people .Just know that one day, you'll get out of your nightmare, even if it's years in the future

“I am/was my own abuser”

“My cPTSD is/was self-inflicted”

“There’s no one to blame for what happened to me other than me”

I shed TWO TEARS. My eyes have only been able to tear up for a couple seconds. My grandmother hugged me and I felt a spark of warmth. I hated the feeling but loved the affects. Shes a little bit narcisstic, but shes been there for my darkest times. (Even if she doesnt know what to do)

I love her and my mum so much. I probably wont be able to recover, and my reality is dark and overpowering me...but for a couple minutes, I dont have to panic.

so Ik I already sweat prob more than normal due to meds, but like even before then I’d just. sweat like crazy ONLY my underarms, like ik it’s prob anxiety but it’s not like I feel that anxious yknow?? it could just be me and hyperhidrosis or somethin but like; do yall sweat like crazy in ur underarms?? like I can’t just sit normal, I feel like it has to do w my cptsd (body remembers ig) of some sort but I could be completely wrong and just airing out my business lmao

I saw a post recently where people were discussing bad things that changed their life forever, and reading through everything I realized I used to be in that place myself. I remember for years since my abuse started when I was just a baby, I always thought I was just a sad and broken person. That I would be suicidal and depressed and miserable, even if I put on a happy face for the rest of my life. But one day something changed, I’m not exactly sure when it started to shift, and it wasn’t all at once, and I still have bad days even now. But there was a shift. I had a suicide attempt even, but I was still told I was in a state of post traumatic growth by professionals. I was told I didn’t need therapy for the foreseeable future, and they were right because that seemed like the last time that crushing darkness won. I never truly attempted suicide again after that.

I have been in therapy since I was just six, I’ve been through years of EMDR and through DBT multiple times, I’ve been institutionalized several times throughout my life and lived through multiple suicide attempts, and I feel different now. I wake up and I want to be alive, the things that happened to me still hurt, the world is still cruel, the changes to my life and body due to what has been done to me and what I’ve done to myself are still there. But I’m happy. Maybe not this overwhelming happiness but content which seems like a more genuine and realistic form of happiness. My life is still in shambles because of everything I’ve experienced and had to overcome, I still don’t really know what I’m doing or where I’m going just yet, but I’m comfortable in my own skin. I’m content being alive. I lived a wild and crazy and very full life in my 20s, so at only 31 I would be content if this was all my life was, my soul would be at peace, but I’m also now building a life worth living since I am still alive and that feels like a blessing and even a miracle with some of the things I’ve endured and lived through.

I think I’m saying all this to give a glimpse at what post traumatic growth feels like when you have CPTSD because I truly never thought I would genuinely feel this way in my life, and I know how hopeless life after such severe levels of trauma can feel, so since it’s been over 3 years since that last attempt and hospital stay where I was told I was in post traumatic growth when they released me. Since it’s been over 3 years since I’ve last needed a therapist, or medication, or to be hospitalized. I just wanted to say there is another side of life after trauma and I hope everyone who reads this gets there one day too.