Healing From Complex Trauma & PTSD/CPTSD

A journey to healing from complex trauma.


We all have different parts to our personality, even my doctor. Mine are quite extreme.

I have different parts of my personality, formed through having an unusual life to most around me.

I am honest and upfront, that I have these different parts of me.

I don’t have Dissociative Identity Disorder, because they are not different identities/alters, they are all parts of who I am all the time.

I have my 43 year old self, the wife to my husband, the mother to my children.

I have the 90 year old me, or could even be 1000 year old me, because it has been validated that I have lived 10 lifetimes compared to most around me, and as such as given me 10 lifetimes of life wisdom, with so much courage, strength, a survivor of more than anyone should ever see or feel.

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I still feel unsafe, if my bedroom door is not completely closed…

Due to my chronic insomnia issues, my nightmares and my husbands shift work, we don’t sleep in the same bed and haven’t done for a few years now. I don’t like keeping him awake and he doesn’t cope well with being tired.

When I was a child, I always wanted to sleep with my door completely closed. Not left open ajar. I also used to hang a jangly thing on the end of the door handle, so that if the door opened while I was sleeping, the jangly thing would fall off and wake me up.

I am still unsure as to the full reason for this. Obviously there is fear, lack of safety etc and as a child, I should not have had to feel this way. For a child not feel safe all day and at night, is truly terrible.

Even now, as I sleep alone, I still prefer to have my door completely shut. I don’t feel safe with my door left open/ajar at night. And I know how irrational this sounds, but I also know why and this is related to my childhood.

When my husband is working night shift, I do keep my bedroom door open so I can hear my children if they wake up and also so if there was ever a problem in the night – fire etc – I will wake up.

But, I don’t like having my door open.

Nightmare, I can’t remember, but symptoms and hives are there.

Had a nightmare last night, I know because I woke up feeling fear, anxiety and although I can’t remember what it was about, I know my symptoms well enough to know what’s happening.

I have hives all up my arms, and I am sat in my home, my safe place.

My subconscious mind, deep memory and my PTSD knows when something is wrong – even when I can’t consciously know what is happening.

Hard to explain to people, but I know what’s happening.

When I am feeling fear, stress, anxiety and have hives, that is not rational for my current situation – like sat in my home – I know it’s PTSD, memory, trauma related.

It happens quite a lot.

So, I’m just taking it easy, husband is watching a DVD with the kids and I am doing my usual trauma response of freeze/fawn – absorbing myself in music and my laptop, providing info and support to others, distracting myself from the emotions going on within me.

I understand trauma responses and PTSD, well.


The outer critic, is my biggest wall in my healing.

Click to access ShrinkingOuterCritic.pdf

I am very honest about myself and this is the hardest stuff for me to deal with, along with grieving.

I have had so many people hurt me so badly and betray me so deeply, my fear levels for this happening anymore, are at the highest they have ever been.

This article by Pete Walker, who is the closest I have come to someone who understands my life/journey/emotions, sums up so much of what I am struggling with and why I would rather stay away from everyone.

I would rather be completely alone, than be hurt or betrayed again. So my walls are up and up stronger than ever.

People can, will and do hurt other deeply. I know this. It’s happened too many times.

It’s why I cannot talk about my darkest times, I can’t get the words out, because I fear betrayal and lack trust in people.

I don’t know how to change this deep, intense fear, or if I ever will.

“Crawling In My Skin”

A song, I deeply relate to, the severe abuse from a psychopath, in captivity, as his sex object.

The flashbacks, the fear, the dissociation I have now, too.


Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real

There’s something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
Controlling. I can’t seem…

To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(without a sense of confidence and I’m convinced that there’s just too much pressure to take)
I’ve felt this way before
So insecure


Discomfort endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It’s haunting how I can’t seem…


[Chorus] Continue reading

Going to counselling tomorrow.

My doctor, who has been doing my counselling, contacted me yesterday. She respected my decision to stop counselling but I know she feels that is the wrong decision and offered to be available should I change my mind.

I explained what my husband has said, and she agreed with him. I was pretty upfront in my emails to her about where I am at, and it isn’t good.

She offered that I can see her tomorrow, which is very kind of her, as I know how busy she is. I know it’s the right thing to do.

Sometimes, we have to realise, we do need help, and maybe we aren’t making the best decisions for ourselves. which scares the crap out of me.

Having been someone all my adult life, who has needed to be in control of everything I have ever done since the age of 20, and fiercely protected my independence and not been willing to let people ‘know what’s best for me’ – due to so much abuse, this is hard for me.

Giving other people, any say/control of ‘what is best for me’ – freaks me out. Which I know is irrational, now in this current situation. But, I also see it is needed, even though I have anxiety, just writing this.

It makes me ‘vulnerable’ to other people – and that is a very fear inducing issue to me.

But, that’s okay I guess. I allowed myself to be vulnerable to a church minister, who I thought I knew and could trust, and that vulnerability was abused and my trust in him trashed. Which made my fear of trust and being vulnerable, so much worse. He used my deep need for non sexual intimacy and trust and used it for his own needs. And that was recent trauma. And it’s interesting how I saw him two days ago, in the midst of this occurring, which is weirdly appropriate for what I am now facing. Trust. Non sexual intimacy with people. Relying on others.

I wrote about this ‘vulnerability’ and how I ‘don’t do’ trust/intimacy in relationships of any kind and my absolute complete fear of that now, is something I will struggle with.

But, as the saying goes…if you are going through hell…keep going.


I fake positivity for my family, for my children, in counselling.

I don’t want my family to see me cry and be sad, so I fake it for them. I love them.

I don’t want my children to grow up with a depressed mother, so I fake it for them. I love them.

I don’t want my doctor to think I am weak and pathetic, so I fake any positivity I can. I nod along with whatever she says. I can’t verbalise what I am thinking. Nodding along, saying what she wants to hear. She wants me leave her room, thinking she has helped me and I am okay.

So, faking it, is what I am doing.

I read out my last blog to my husband today, whilst crying and he just didn’t know what to do and said nothing. What can he say really.

Now I feel guilty. I wish I had just kept it to myself. My husband didn’t sign up for this, I know it isn’t fair on him.

I feel guilty I am wasting my doctors time. I know she doesn’t really want me on her books. She has more important things to do. I have to stop going, I know that.

I can’t tell anyone how I really feel, because I am scared of the outcome, I feel shame and guilt about it.

It’s always been this way.

I have go along with what other people want/need, because the alternative is worse.

I feel guilty for burdening people with my problems, that I don’t have the strength to sort out.

Another Lana Del Rey video, I relate to, too well.

Not so much the words, but as always her videos.

The slowed down parts, where she is with the older man, how it’s almost in a hazy, dissociated state, triggers past memories, where I really believed I was in love with a psychopath, who was 25 years older, who had groomed me for a couple of years, into a period of severe suffering, abuse, torture, and he did end up in prison.

I had to do whatever he demanded, to survive. I was a teenager. An already abused, fragile girl. A previous girlfriend ended up dead, and it made to look like an accident, I have proof of that.

The guy in the video, the expressions on his face – way too familiar. The way he pulls her chin around.


Lana definitely relates to older men issues. Daddy issues. I get it.

I’m still dealing with it. Still having nightmares about it.