05/09/2026
C-PTSD AWARENESS MONTH 🤍
There is something I don’t talk about very often.
I live with Complex PTSD.
Every. Single. Day.
Only a handful of people in my life know the full extent of what I’ve lived through. Not because I’m ashamed, but because some things are deeply personal, and I’ve spent a lifetime learning that not everyone deserves access to the most vulnerable parts of you.
Some days are good.
Some days are really hard.
And some days, getting out of bed feels like an achievement in itself.
For around 40 years, I lived with fear of the very people I was supposed to feel safest with. Fear of arguments. Fear of physical violence. Fear of mental and emotional torture. Fear of never knowing what was coming next.
When you live like that for years, your body learns to survive.
Fight. Flight. Freeze. Fawn.
Even when the danger is gone, your nervous system doesn’t always understand that.
So what does C-PTSD actually look like?
It can look very different from person to person, but it can include:
• Feeling constantly on edge or unsafe
• Being easily startled or constantly scanning for danger
• Anxiety, panic or overwhelming fear
• Intrusive memories, flashbacks or nightmares
• Avoiding people, places or situations that remind you of the past
• Emotional numbness or feeling disconnected from yourself
• Difficulty trusting people or feeling safe in relationships
• Shame, guilt or feeling like everything is somehow your fault
• Low self-worth and feeling unworthy of love
• Dissociation or feeling detached from reality
• Problems with concentration and memory
• Sleep difficulties and exhaustion
• Feeling responsible for keeping everyone else happy or safe
• Struggling to relax, even when there is no immediate danger
And sometimes, you become incredibly good at hiding it.
You can smile.
Go to work.
Run a business.
Make other people laugh.
Show up for everyone else.
And nobody has any idea what is happening inside.
You can walk away from people.
You can change your surroundings.
You can rebuild your life.
But your body can still carry what your mind desperately wants to leave behind.
I’ve done an enormous amount of work on myself. I bravely walked away from people and situations that were hurting me, even when I was made to believe that I was the problem, that nobody would love me, and that the whole world was against me.
And I now do life alone. I do love living alone, but I’m never truly alone. Keiko, Ebony and Tiffany are my faithful companions, my family and a constant source of comfort, love and companionship. Their presence makes my home feel warmer, calmer and safer. 🐾🐾🐾
I’ve lost people by choosing myself and today I celebrate choosing me and breaking the cycle
I’ve had to learn how to stand on my own two feet, rebuild my life and find my own sense of safety and be my own cheerleader.
And although doing life alone can sometimes feel lonely, I would rather have my own company than surround myself with people who make me feel unsafe, unheard, unwanted or less than I am.
I’m still healing.
I always will be.
Losing my grandpa was one of the hardest days of my life. He was the only gentleman I ever really knew growing up. My best friend and the man who taught me that not all men are to be feared. I wish more than anything that he could be here today to see the life I’ve built.
I wish he could have seen how much I’ve overcome.
And I wish he could have known just how bad things really were behind closed doors.
Because that’s the thing about trauma…
You genuinely never know what someone is carrying.
The person standing in front of you may be fighting a battle you know absolutely nothing about.
And this is something I see regularly in my line of work, because I work with people every single day.
We all have wounds.
Some are visible.
Some are completely invisible.
But having trauma doesn’t give us permission to pour it onto other people.
If your nervous system is dysregulated, your healing is your responsibility.
It is not someone else’s responsibility to absorb your anger, your pain, your fear or your unresolved trauma.
That doesn’t mean we have to be perfect.
It means we have to take responsibility.
For me, healing has been about learning to feel rather than run from what I feel. Breathwork, nature, plant-based approaches, homeopathy, self-awareness and years of doing the deeper work have all been part of my own journey.
I don’t believe healing is about pretending it never happened.
I believe it’s about learning that what happened to you does not have to dictate the rest of your life.
And perhaps the biggest reason I keep doing what I do is because I know what it feels like to feel unseen, unheard and unimportant.
So I make it my mission to make people feel beautiful.
Seen.
Heard.
Valued.
Because no one did that for me when I needed it most.
So yes…
I have good days.
I have bad days.
I sometimes struggle.
I sometimes disappear and need to retreat.
But I’m still here.
And I’m incredibly proud of the woman who fought her way out of a life she never deserved and continues to build something beautiful from it.
This is what living with C-PTSD can look like.
Not weakness.
Not attention-seeking.
Not being “too sensitive.”
Sometimes it looks like a woman who has survived an enormous amount… and still chooses to pour kindness into other people.
🤍 C-PTSD Awareness Month — please remember to be kind. You never truly know what is happening behind someone’s closed door.
