Hypervigilance in Trauma Survivors #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone and welcome to my letter H post in the #AtoZChallenge. Today, I want to talk about a major symptom of (complex) PTSD which I struggle with a lot: hypervigilance.

Hypervigilance is an increased awareness of one’s environment and seemingly unimportant details in it. That is, often people who experience hypervigilance constantly scan their surroundings for signs of threat, but that doesn’t mean they’re hyper aware of everything going on. In fact, they often miss out on actually important aspects of their surroundings, such as missing part of a conversation they’re having.

There is a sensory aspect to hypervigilance, ie. increased sensitivity to noise, smells or other sensory stimuli. However, there are also cognitive and emotional aspects to it. People who are hypervigilant due to (complex) PTSD often overanalyze the things happening around them and too easily perceive them as threatening.

I for one commonly overanalyze things that I perceive. It doesn’t help that people often expect me to appraise already overloading stimuli differently based on other factors involved. Like, due to being autistic, I get very easily overwhelmed by loud noises, crowded environments, etc. However, due to both autism and C-PTSD, I also overanalyze my perceptions. For example, I often judge myself for being overwhelmed because, for instance, my fellow residents “can’t help” making certain noises.

People with complex PTSD often experience hypervigilance about other people’s intentions too. I for one am always looking for signs that the people who mean the most to me are going to betray me. It’s not like I want to, but that’s been my experience most of my life.

Hypervigilance can also show up in physical symptoms. An increased startle reflex is part of the diagnostic criteria for PTSD. Many people with (C-)PTSD also struggle to relax even when there are no sudden stimuli or changes to the environment. Which, now that I type it, I realize is nonsense: the environment is always changing even when people who aren’t neurodivergent or trauma survivors or both, do not notice. I last week had a meltdown because I was overwhelmed by the sounds in the living room, only to be told by the staff that it was totally silent. Well, except for a fellow resident’s tablet, the TV, the dishwasher and I’m not even counting the relatively “minor” everyday sounds, like birds chirping outside, the staff station clock ticking, etc.

Anyway, hypervigilance like I said can show up as physical symptoms. Many people experience an increased heartrate, heavy breathing, higher blood pressure, etc. After all, stress (and hypervigilance is majorly stressful) activates the body’s nervous system.

I don’t yet know what can be done about hypervigilance. I follow movement therapy, but so far, it’s incredibly slow-going. It doesn’t help that, like I said above, the world is ever-changing. In other words, even though my therapist talks about baby steps, I know the real world doesn’t work like that.

Grief As It Relates to Childhood Trauma: Missing Something You Never Had #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone and welcome to my letter G post in the #AtoZChallenge. Today, I want to talk about grief as it affects survivors of childhood trauma and particularly family dysfunction. I discussed grief in last year’s A-to-Z too. The thing is though, for many survivors of family dysfunction, the grief is not related to loss, but to missing something you never had. After all, for most people growing up in dysfunctional families, the abuse and neglect started before they were old enough to form clear memories. Because of this as well as other factors, many children also grow up to believe their experience is normal. After all, if you’ve never known any different, it’s hard to understand that your experience could be traumatic. This is one reason way too many people still believe that adversity experienced in early childhood has few effects because “they won’t remember anyway”.

I personally greatly struggle with this belief. Like I shared, I quite literally experienced adversity from birth on if not before. As such, even though my parents claim I was a happy child until around age seven, I have very few memories of a happy childhood.

I also struggle with the belief that “it wasn’t that bad” because it was all I knew. This means that, for a long time, I didn’t actually grieve my childhood trauma. This might seem positive, but the grief is all the worse now that I do know that my experiences weren’t normal. Besides, denial is the first stage in grieving for a reason. In other words, not knowing means I’ll never move on either.

Many people who didn’t experience significant childhood trauma, react to those grieving the happy childhood they never had with well-meaning but hurtful comments like “leave the past behind” or “everybody struggles sometimes”. In reality though, I’m not everybody and the past is part of my life.

Family Dynamics: Roles in Dysfunctional Families #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’m once again incredibly late writing my contribution for the #AtoZChallenge today. Today’s letter is F and what better word to choose than “family”? After all, with most people who experience complex PTSD as a result of childhood trauma, the trauma originated in the family. This, obviously, does not have to be a birth family, unless you’re talking about the experiences of a traumatic start in life. The traumatic experiences I’m going to talk about here, can affect children brought into the family at any time during childhood.

Often, there are particular dynamics in families in which at least one of the parents is abusive, addicted or otherwise dysfunctional. This is a reason siblings in dysfunctional families often have very different perspectives on their upbringing. In my own case, my sister retreated to her room whenever my parents and I had an argument. As a result, she didn’t see the way my parents reacted and she did hear my screaming. She also resents me for having gotten more attention than she got, even though most of this attention especially when we got older, was negative.

Children and parents/caregivers in dysfunctional families can have many different roles. Some of them, I’ll discuss in more detail later in the challenge. They include:


  • Golden Child: the child who “can’t do wrong”. They are often the family “favorite”, often experiencing being spoiled or having few limits placed on them.

  • Hero: the child who “proves” that there’s nothing wrong with the family. This ties in with the “lost child” role that my sister had: the invisible one.

  • Identified patient / problem child: the child/person being identified as the source of the family’s dysfunction or the reason the family enters therapy. This role shows that, even in families in which one person is clearly the one being obviously abusive, the actual problem is the dynamics within the family.

  • Scapegoat/black sheep: the opposite of the “hero”, the scapegoat is the child blamed for everything going wrong in the family. Usually they get the harshest abuse.

  • Enabler: this is the person, either the not-so-obviously abusive parent or an older child, who maintains the family’s outward appearance and tries to take care of the family at least to an extent.

For clarity’s sake, none of these roles are “good”, in that they all show that a family is dysfunctional. I mean, I was often raised as a mixture between the golden child and identified patient. I regularly tried to deny my golden child attributes, because too often the golden child turns out to become abusive towards their own partner and eventually children. Then again, being the golden child is not that child’s fault. Continuing the cycle once they’re an adult, however, is.

Emotional Abuse and Neglect: What If You Were Never Hit? #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. It’s nearly 10PM as I type my letter E post in the #AtoZChallenge. Today, I want to explore emotional abuse and neglect. After all, many people who survived trauma, wonder whether their experience of complex PTSD “counts” if they were never physically or sexually abused. Unfortunately, many clinicians fail to validate the fact that, yes, emotional abuse and neglect count. I can relate to this myself: I tried countless times to get support for my symptoms of complex PTSD due to childhood emotional neglect and abuse (as well as abuse within the care system) only to be told I was being negative, had probably brought it onto myself, etc. However, when I first shared about the physical abuse I endured as a child, my support staff were pretty quickly alarmed.

Guess what? Even though I was hit many times, it isn’t that which made the most significant impact on my experience of C-PTSD. The worst was the emotional abuse, which came in some quite insidious forms. I mean, losing your temper once and yelling at a child (or someone else dependent on you, like a client in a care setting) isn’t okay, but it doesn’t usually cause lasting effects. What does commonly cause C-PTSD is a longstanding pattern of disregard for the child’s needs. And like I said, this comes in sometimes quite insidious forms.

An example is the fact that, when I learned of the things a child needs growing up, “realistic limits” didn’t ring a bell with me. The reason it didn’t ring a bell to me, was the fact that I was repeatedly told I was being selfish. I also didn’t realize at the time that, if I didn’t get realistic limits set on me (and spoiler: I didn’t!), it wasn’t something I had done to elicit my parents spoiling me. I till this day struggle with this idea, because well doesn’t the fact that I was allowed to set my own bedtime from age nine on, never had limits on screen time, wasn’t made to do chores, etc., mean I’m one giant brat of a person? I can see why my sister, who did get some limits set on her, is sometimes jealous of me.

What else do children need from their parents? Like I’ve shared, they need to have their autonomy encouraged. This may contradict the idea of limits, but really, it’s a matter of balance.

None of the things a child needs from their parents are black-or-white when it comes to emotional neglect and abuse. I mean, obviously a parent should never lay a hand on their child and one incident of physical or sexual abuse can cause significant trauma. With emotional neglect, it’s a matter of “good enough”. What I mean is, a parent doesn’t need to be attuned to their child’s emotional needs all the time (no-one can realistically meet such a standard!). However, when a parent isn’t in tune with their child’s needs most of the time, chances are the child will develop complex PTSD.

Codependent (Fawn-Based) Trauma Responses #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone and welcome to my letter C post in the #AtoZChallenge. Last year during this challenge, I discussed codependency for my letter C post. Today, I want to talk about the same topic, but specifically as it relates to people who experienced complex trauma.

You are probably familiar with the fight or flight response when it comes to fear. However, there are several other ways people can respond to perceived threats. One of them is fawning. This has always been a confusing term for me, particularly because I’m a non-native speaker of English and there is no proper translation of this word in Dutch as far as I’m aware.

Fawning, if I’m correct, in the context of trauma means being overly compliant with the wishes of other people and being unable to protest. It’s similar to people-pleasing, for which I haven’t found a proper Dutch translation either by the way.

Pete Walker, the author through whom I know of the fawn-based trauma response, has an entire chapter on this topic in his book on complex PTSD. I just opened the book to the chapter on fawning and oh my did it hit hard! Walker starts out by explaining how he learned that he himself gravitates towards a fawn response when he apologized to a chair for bumping into it. I have done that too.

However, it’s harder for me when I find myself apologizing to people, because too often my apology gets seen as being insincere when I truly have a reason to apologize. That makes sense, especially because I can also show a fight-based response when triggered.

The thing for me is that I overadapt until I can no longer take it anymore and then I have an aggressive meltdown. This sometimes makes me doubt I actually fawn at all. It doesn’t help that my parents from a young age on ingrained the thought that I am selfish into my psyche. I can indeed be self-centered, but that’s not the same.

I am still unsure whether I am a primarily fawning trauma survivor rather than a fight type. However, reading Walker’s chapter makes me realize I’m probably closer to the fawn end of the fight-fawn continuum than many people, including myself, believe. I, after all, experience a deep-seated lack of understanding and even deeper lack of appreciation of myself. Walker calls this self-abandonment and self-abnegation. I wonder whether, because my most outwardly noticeable reaction when triggered is fight, I have been conditioned to see myself as primarily a fight-based type.

Autonomy: Learning That I Can Do Things and That My Opinions Matter #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today is April 1 so this means the #AtoZChallenge is starting. I haven’t prepared any posts in advance, but since I am going to write on healing past hurts, the concept of autonomy spoke to me for my letter A post. Autonomy is the ability to be self-reliant and independent, both physically and emotionally. It starts to develop in toddlerhood.

As I learned about emotional development as it relates to developmental disability (I discussed this in 2023), I realized in many ways I’m not there yet. I struggle with even basic decisions like what clothes I want to wear.

When I was 30, I was told I have dependent personality disorder. This disorder is characterized by passivity and the inability to make decisions independently, as well as a pervasive need to be taken care of. It is often related to lack of encouragement of autonomy in childhood.

I don’t have many memories of my early childhood, but I do know I wasn’t given a lot of autonomy when I was older. It’s not that my parents didn’t try, but as soon as I got frustrated, they gave up. They genuinely believed they were giving me autonomy and that I was just too stubborn to want to be independent. For this reason, they claimed and to this day still claim it’s my choice to be in the care system.

My psychologist back in 2016, the one who diagnosed me with dependent personality disorder, sided with them. She said I did have the assertiveness to stand up for myself, but wasn’t doing things I was (thought to be) capable of. That’s not what dependent personality disorder is though: lack of confidence in one’s own physical capabilities is but one criterion out of eight. And please note: it’s specified that the reason someone isn’t doing something, is in fact lack of confidence, not lack of skill or motivation. In other words, unwillingness to do things independently that you can do, is not dependent personality disorder, but care misuse.

And for clarity’s sake: I am not and never was misusing care. However, that’s exactly what my psychologist thought I was and according to which presumption she treated me by kicking me out of the mental hospital with virtually no support. She once again didn’t encourage me to develop autonomy. Refusing to help someone who clearly asks for help, contrary to the current idea in mental health services, may be politically useful, but it is not autonomy-supportive.

I am only now, now that I’m nearly forty, learning that I in fact was conditioned by both my parents and the psychiatric hospital to disregard my own opinions. Yes, being able to do things independently, is one aspect of autonomy, but so is the ability to make your own choices. One can hardly exist without the other.

Mindfulness As an Activity #JusJoJan

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Happy New Year to you all! I’m happy to read Linda has given #JusJoJan another go and I’m going to try to participate again. Today’s prompt is “mindfulness”, which really speaks to me.

When I first learned about mindfulness, I was in dialectical behavior therapy for my emotion regulation issues. All I remember of it at the time were rather abstract concepts like imagining your thoughts are like clouds in the sky. I couldn’t put these concepts into practice at all. I mean, observing my thoughts felt so completely alien to me. Same for mindful breathing exercises. I’ve tried them, a zillion times, mind you, but I always end up being distracted.

Then, a few weeks ago, I was listening to a podcast episode of one of the ADHD podcasts I listen to occasionally. Not that I have a diagnosis of ADHD, but I relate to many of its traits. The episode was about seven different kinds of rest. In it, the podcaster described seven different ways of rest that we all need, including physical rest, mental rest, spiritual rest, etc. None of these in her particular experience involved napping. Also, by doing just one activity, the podcaster said you could be resting in more than one way.

For example, she mentioned going on a walk and, while on her walk, being conscious of every red thing she saw. This is mindfulness in a totally different respect than imagining your thoughts are clouds. It totally spoke to me!

Now of course I’m totally blind so counting or naming red objects doesn’t work for me. But I’m sure the same principle can be applied to sounds or any of the other senses. I’m going to give it a try when I next go on a walk.

Mother As the Giving Tree: Reflections on Conditional Acceptance

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Last Monday, I attended an online meeting for adults who spent time in the NICU as infants. It touched me on many levels. One thing that was mentioned was the fact that most NICU parents go through their own emotional process, which then is passed on somehow to their child in the NICU and beyond. For example, many parents back in my day and before didn’t know whether their baby would survive, so they didn’t attach to their babies as they normally would have.

I was also reminded of something I read in the book The Emotionally Absent Mother. In it, motherhood is compared to the giving tree in Shel Sinverstein’s writing. I don’t think I’ve ever read this piece, but its point is that the tree keeps on giving and giving and expects nothing in return.

I have been thinking about my parents’ attitude to me as a multiply-disabled person. When I suffered a brain bleed in the NICU, my father questioned my neonatologist about my quality of life and what they were doing to me. “We’re keeping her alive,” the doctor bluntly replied. My father has always been adamant to me that he wouldn’t have wanted me if I’d had an intellectual disability, because “you can’t talk with those”.

I have always felt the pressure of conditional acceptance. I’ve shared this before, but when I was in Kindergarten or first grade, it was already made clear to me that, at age eighteen, i’d leave the house and go to university. I tell myself every parent has expectations and dreams for their child. This may be so, but most parents don’t abandon their children when these children don’t meet their expectations and certainly not when it’s inability, not unwillingness, that drives these children not to fulfill their parents’ dreams. Then again, my parents say it’s indeed unwillingness on my part.

I still question myself on this. Am I really unable to live on my own and go to university? My wife says yes, I am unable. Sometimes though, I wish it were within my power to make my parents be on my side. Then again, the boy in Shel Silverstein’s writing didn’t have to do anything to make the tree support him either.

I’m linking up with #WWWhimsy. I was also inspired to write this post when I saw Esther’s writing prompt for this week, which is “giving”.

Reflections on Being a Thrown Away Golden Child

Posted on by Astrid

I’ve been struggling with memories lately, as well as with the role I played in my family. I was for the most part the golden child. For those not aware of what this means, this is the child in a family in which one or both parents are narcissists or otherwise emotionally immature, who ends up being the parents’ favorite.

My parents often half-jokingly (though it wasn’t funny) said that my younger sister was oh so nicely average. More like invisible, I’d say.

I, on the other hand, was exceptional in both positive and negative ways. I was a genius when doing calendar calculation, which for your information is a common savant skill in people with developmental disabilities. By contrast, I was threatened with being thrown away into institutional care and called all kinds of insults for people with mental illness when I was acting less than excellent. I at one point thought of printing out the table of contents for the DSM so that my parents at least knew the correct terms for what they were calling me.

Then, when I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital in 2007, my parents more or less actually threw me away. No, that’s not even entirely true: they threatened to abandon me when I announced that I was taking a second gap year in order to work on independence skills in 2006 and only came back into my life after the independence training home promised to prepare me for university and independent living. Which they couldn’t.

I struggle with both the fact that I was thrown away and the fact that I was my parents’ favorite before that. After all, it adds an extra layer of shame to my life: the layer of “if only…”. If only I hadn’t taken that second gap year… If only I hadn’t consented to being admitted to the psychiatric hospital… If only I hadn’t applied for long-term care… would I still be the hero… in my parents’ fantasy tale? In other words, isn’t it my choice to have fallen off my parents’ pedestal?

I don’t know how I feel about the idea that it might’ve somehow been my choice to be thrown away. On the one hand, I feel it makes me responsible for not having a “normal” relationship with my parents. On the other hand though, I know how many golden children turn out and that’s not pretty. Many end up repeating their parents’ toxic patterns with partners or children.

I’m forever grateful for being childfree for this reason (and others), as just today I had a memory of shoving my and my wife’s then cat Barry out of the bed. I feel forever guilty about this and the very thought of doing this to a child, makes me sick.

Remembering this and other things makes me realize I’m glad I didn’t stay in the golden child role. If I had, I might as well have ended up in prison… or should have.

Connecting to a Higher Power or Purpose

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’m motivated to write but don’t know what about, so I looked through a collection of journaling prompts. For some reason, the section on spirituality and belief caught my eye. One of the prompt questions is how I connect to a higher power or purpose.

This, honestly, was a lot easier when I still thought of myself as a progressive Christian than it is now. Back in the day, it was relatively easy for me to find inspiration and spiritual guidance. Now, I still occasionally look at Christian-based sources, because I still have a ton of devotionals downloaded off Bookshare. Still, it feels off. It feels as though I’m not playing by the rules of the game that is religion. Not that religion is a game, but one of the reasons I left Christianity is the fact that it is too much tied to hate towards for example the LGBTQ+ community. I always knew, even when I had suppressed my queer identity, that I was an ally to the community. However, the truth remains that the Bible is horribly homophobic. One could say that it was written 2000 years ago, but then one would essentially abandon one of the core concepts of Christianity, ie. the idea that the Bible is God’s word. I could say that I don’t care, call myself a spiritual seeker and take what speaks to me and leave the rest. But I wouldn’t be a Christian. And, if I did still find inspiration in Christian devotionals, wouldn’t that be me essentially betraying my queer self and, furthermore, the entire queer community?

But I desire to find meaning in life. I’m still struggling with connecting to a higher power now that I no longer follow Jesus. I do believe there’s “something”, some kind of higher power, but I don’t know what it is and where and how to connect to it.

I keep trying to meditate on Insight Timer, but this feels as half-hearted as my prayers were when I still claimed to be a Jesus follower. I’m struggling to genuinely believe in and surrender to a higher power. Maybe this means I’m actually an atheist or secular humanist, but I do “feel” there’s more. I just don’t know how to align my thoughts and actions with this feeling.

There are other ways of finding a higher purpose in life. I tried acceptance and commitment therapy, which is highly based on the idea of living by your values. Then again, do I really know what my values are? No, I have no idea.

I actually often feel drawn to the fluffy side of spirituality. Affirmations, essential oils (when I still had a diffuser), that kind of stuff. There’s nothing wrong with this, really, except that it often leads to a “take what I like and leave the rest” kind of attitude. And I think there’s something wrong with that, but I can’t pinpoint what it is.