I’m 99.9% sure of my PTSD is actually C•PTSD. 

I’ve never really given it much thought until this last weekend.

I mean, I have, but I haven’t put that much thought into it.

I guess I never really looked up what it really meant, until I looked up what fawning meant this weekend, and realized that I do that much more often than fight, flight or freeze.

And that I also have been mistaking my people pleasing traits for what’s actually fawning traits as well as a ton of other personality traits.

It really hit home because I looked this up right after I had a haircut appointment.

And my stylist and I don’t see eye to eye on some things, of course, and she went on about how some people are this way and do this, this and this…

And instead of telling her I am one of those people, I just agreed with her.

At the time, I didn’t want to start anything, and she’s cutting my hair, and I didn’t want her to be mad at me or to think less of me or something.

But that’s silly.

I compromised who I am inside because I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, and fuck what I feel.

Fuck it if I’m uncomfortable, that doesn’t matter.

I need to keep the peace.

That’s fawning.

No wonder why I have authority issues.

It’s curious to think about things from the angle of trauma.

I know I have a lot of reoccurring and ongoing trauma in my life.

But I never put it together, that it has shaped my personality.

But no doubt it has.

Not only from being bullied, medical trauma, the church I grew up in, my marriage, and the unmanaged, undiagnosed psychotic episodes, and even some other things I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable sharing about here.

Those things are left for therapy.

And maybe, when I work through them a bit more, I’ll be more willing to share, but I doubt it.

But I was bullied by everyone.

My brother was a big bully in my life growing up.

Constantly calling me fat, and a bitch.

Telling me I was adopted (which, who’s big brother doesn’t say that to them?), and that no one loved me, that I was worthless.

Over and over again.

No wonder why I married someone who told me the same shit.

I was bullied by classmates.

My first romantic experience was a fucked up bully situation.

And I’m convinced that that’s why I’ve had low self esteem, especially when it comes to relationships, to this day.

I had a crush on this boy in my 5th grade class, and one day he told me he liked me.

I was ecstatic!

He wanted to hold my hand in the lunch line that day.

And everyone was looking at us, and whispering and giggling, and I was so proud.

Until the next day came around.

And I don’t remember the details, but I found out through the grapevine, or from a friend, that his friend had paid him $2 to tell me he liked me, and to hold my hand.

I was crushed and fucking mortified.

He apologized when we were in our 20’s but the damage had been done.

I think that was the first time it really got drilled into me that I was worthless, and that people didn’t want to be around me.

I was bullied by teachers.

My gym and choir teachers in middle school were the ones that stand out as the worst.

The gym teacher, Mr. Belco, would always yell at me to pick up the pace even though there were always kids behind me that he never yelled at, ever.

He would holler and berate me in front of everyone all the time.

He would get frustrated because my doctor would write me out of doing squats becuase my knees started to hurt at this age.

But so did my back when I did the alternate sit ups.

I would cry, and cry, as he’d make me do them.

I’m sure to him, I was a weak link.

But my trauma was manifesting as pain, I see that now, as an adult.

And besides, I wasn’t the only one he bullied, and he did it often.

The choir teacher, Miss. Johnson, told me one time to stop running, as we were setting up chairs for a performance, because, “there weren’t any fries over there” in front of half the class.

I remember everyone busted out laughing at my expense.

That was not the only time she had made a fat joke to my detriment, in front of everyone.

She was a total bitch.

I hope both of them are miserable now, honestly.

I would say more, but I don’t want to give them any more of my energy.

And again, no wonder why I have authority issues.

I was bullied at church.

Constantly made fun of, again, for my weight mostly.

And I had the pastor tell me at the ripe age of 6 or 7, that I “wasn’t ready or able to accept the lord, jesus christ, as my savior” at that time.

Remember, I was 6 or 7.

I was a fucking kid.

And he never baptized me because of that.

And again, no wonder why I have authority issues.

And I don’t remember the situation, I just remember being a black sheep there, because of that.

At church, I was looked down on for going to public schools for sure.

I was looked down on because, even at a young age, I wasn’t really a believer.

Or maybe they drove me away from it.

I’m unsure which one is which.

Anyway, it was very apparent I wasn’t “one of them” – everyone there, adults and children, made that very clear.

I also have tons of medical trauma.

I’ve had 6 major surgeries in my life, and have had over several dozen outpatient procedures in my life.

Two of the major surgeries were before the age of 3 years old.

I had an eye surgery, to remove a film that was over my left iris that hadn’t come off in utero, around six months old or so.

I had to wear an eye patch over my good eye for several years before and after the surgery, so my legally blind eye could get as strong as it could get.

Even though I’m still legally blind, and couldn’t see shit those years.

And my pupil is constantly dilated so the sun hurts my eye and gives me a headache.

I still have an issue with sunglasses.

I couldn’t wear them until after I was 18 years old because they would give my left eye too much of a break – they would weaken it.

So I just felt with the uncontrolled brightness.

I had a heart catherization at about a year old or so, year and a half.

I had to get echo’s and EKG’s every year until I was 18.

Now it’s every 4 years.

But going into a dark room and getting poked and prodded all the time as a kid is scary.

Before the age of 18, I had to get my blood drawn every six months.

Sometimes every two or three months for years and years, especially when I was very young.

That’s for my hypothyroidism that I was born with, and to monitor my TSH levels.

We used to go to a nursing school clinic and they would practice on me and poke me five to six times, every time, in each arm, before they’d get a vein.

It was torture and one time I went off on the nurses, I can’t recall how old I was, probably about 5 or so.

Screaming, kicking, the whole thing.

I don’t blame my little self for doing that.

I used to get chronic ear infections when I was a kid.

I’d have to check with my Mom, but I believe I had tubes put in my ears – she told me I did, and that they really helped.

One time I had the swimmer’s ear wax goo stuff get stuck down into my ear canal, on vacation, and I had to go to the doc to get it medically removed with a long, metal pencil looking thing, that they stuck in my ear while I had to hold super still.

I was sick all the time it felt like.

I had to get moles removed.

I got super bad sunburns every summer – bad enough that I would have blisters on me.

I had chronic ingrown toenails that I’d have to soak in epsom salt baths and dig out the infected toenail afterward.

My knees have hurt since 6th or 7th grade.

I had my wisdom teeth out, and got a dry socket.

Throughout life, I’ve been constantly ridiculed and lectured by doctors because of my weight.

I’ve had my gallbladder and appendix removed.

I have moderate to severe arthritis in all of my major joints.

I have venous insufficiency in both legs.

I have autoimmune issues.

I get migraines.

I have struggled with mental illness since I was 11 or 12 years old.

I could seriously go on and on and on.

It’s endless.

This is some of the bullshit, and there’s more of the medical bullshit, that I deal with, or have dealt with.

It’s literally absurd.

I hate it.

I’ve seen so many fucking doctors over the years.

And have struggled so hard over the same time, trying to cope with all of my health issues, it’s literally ridiculous.

But I had no idea that medical issues are part of the symptoms of C•PTSD.

C•PTSD can cause medical issues – it’s like a somatic thing, your body doesn’t know what to do with the trauma that your mind isn’t coping with, so I literally internalized it, and took it in physically. 

I’m sure I’ll find out more on that too, because I’m also slowly reading the book “The Body Keeps The Score” by Bessel Van Der Kolk, MD.

I’m just getting into part two, chapter 7, and I’ve cried during every chapter so far.

I was reading at a steady pace at first, and have since taken a break.

It’s really, pretty intense.

Great, and super informative, and interesting, but intense.

The part that really caught me so far was in the beginning, he talked about how people who go through intense trauma don’t have imaginations anymore.

That they can come back with work and therapy, but they’re gone while the trauma is around.

And I couldn’t agree more.

I always wondered why I couldn’t create my imaginative worlds like I used to be able to when I was younger.

Every night I would lay there before bed, while trying to fall asleep, and imagine a different life.

One of fairytale love, acceptance and wealth.

And come to find out that creating imaginative worlds just before bed like that is another indicator of C•PTSD.

I was trying to escape my life, and create a stable world to be able to fall asleep in.

It’s very compounded trauma.

And even writing about this, and working on this with my therapist has made so so fatigued.

Note how I said fatigued and not tired.

I feel like there’s a difference.

Fatigue is a deep rooted, body aching, encompassing exhaustion.

That’s what I’ve been feeling after my sessions, and after I do research, and after I read my book, and after I write about it, and after I think about it.

My therapist has me now making a timeline of my trauma and life.

Nothing too detailed, just bullet points, a summary.

And it’s a lot.

Not too much, but a lot.

And then there’s the huge psychotic episode from around 2018-2022.

I hadn’t even gotten that far yet on my list of traumas here.

The past few years I’ve been physically safe.

i’m emotionally safe too.

And my therapist said that that’s why I can work on this stuff right now.

That that’s why I can dive in, and see some of these things for the first time, or rather, second time, since they happened.

But I’m still on edge.

200% on edge.

My body still feels tight.

I still feel extremely anxious.

I saw this reel the other day on facebook, where this gal was talking about what her therapist had told her.

She said that even though you’re doing all of the non-toxic behaviors and practices, even tough you’re safe, and you keep showing your body and mind that you’re safe, you’re still going to have the toxic, unsafe feelings. 

The feelings take years, and years, and years to get back to normal and to get back to a homeostasis.

Fuckin a.

– Keren