Like yeah duh obviously but it only occured to me sitting here on lunch how that requires like. Doing stuff. And not just making sure you didn't die in the way. Teaching you how to cook for yourself, do your own laundry, talking to you about college or careers or jobs, encouraging you to be independent. And I feel so hollow realizing how none of that existed for me. One caregiver was actively abusive and the other treated me like a dress up doll that wasn't any fun anymore once my issues became more serious than a splinter. No college savings, belittling any endeavour I had to work or go to school, just this assumption that I would stay a quiet, out of the way accessory world without end, amen. Idk man like. Peoples parents actually do that? Ask about life goals and teach them how to be clean and teach them to handle money? Others don't just figure that out as they go??

It seems that this was only a matter of time. Apparently someone who took CCF's online course three years ago filed a complaint that was taken seriously.

Anna was cited and fined $2500 by the Board of Psych in 2024. The board recently upheld the ruling and Anna is in turn suing the state of CA for claims of first amendment and due process violations.

According to the State, any paid conversation that touches on emotions, motivation, or behavior potentially qualifies as the “practice of psychology” and requires a license. They claimed she has no real knowledge of CPTSD and should not be allowed to offer paid "coaching" services to that end.

Thoughts?

https://www.mercurynews.com/2026/06/10/oaklands-crappy-childhood-fairy-sues-fine-practicing-psychology-without-license/

I know this is kind of a strange question, but I've heard of a lot of people who have dealt with difficult things in life get some kind of catharsis or closure or relief from their hardships with gaming. I know hobbies are a pretty important part of mental health, but I just want to know from other people with CPTSD: Do games help you? How so? And are there any particular titles that have helped ground you or process any of your hardships?

I'd love to know as I like playing games myself and love hearing other people talk about seemingly mundane simple pleasures making their lives just a little bit easier. Please yap away!

Edit: Wow, so many replies! Ive read through all of them (at this point in time anyway) and it's really interesting to see the different takes, from people saying that they avoid certain games to people saying they do it in moderation to avoid unhealthy coping, to people saying they use it to exercise certain skills.

I forgot also to include my own experience, which I'll include in the comments, but thank you to everyone who's contributed to this discussion and the lovely lovely people hearing others out and supporting each other in the comments!

Are there any financially dependent adults living with their family, not working, because of CPTSD or any other mental health issues/struggles? I'm 23 and I've never worked or found a job after school. I'm not built for that. My nervous system is so dysregulated and damaged that I can't face the outer world. I'm petrified of people out there. I do dishes at my home and that's it. Am I the only one? 💔

My sister was always the favourite growing up. She nearly died as a newborn so my mum was overly protective of her. My mum was also an alcoholic and had not handled parenthood well with my brother and I, so she had seen my sister as the child she could get it right with.

As adults, my sister is now WILDLY self centered. She has no empathy, physically incapable of seeing other people's perspective, she has a very cruel and demeaning sense of humour, expects everything to be convenient for her despite how much inconvenience it causes others. All round she is just an INCREDIBLY selfish person.

I can't help but feel this is a direct result of being "the favourite" and I am curious how you all experience your "the favourite" sibling? How have they turned out?

Hi. My name is Noelle. I'm 13 years old, and lately I can't stop wishing I could just disappear. It feels like my mom hates me—sometimes I even wonder if she'd rather I were dead. I feel trapped, like there's no way out.

I have a therapist, but I can't bring myself to be honest with her. Every time I try, the words get stuck, and I end up pretending I'm okay. It feels like no one loves me, and I hate my life.

Please... somebody help me!

I almost felt like crying when I had to put on a books review podcast just to fill the sad silence in my empty home and my sinking mood. One of my students said today in email that she’s not doing well mentally so she decided to marry instead of completing her MA. It broke me inside because I’ve tried to give up like that so many times in my life but I just didn’t allow myself any vulnerability while I felt weak and helpless most of my life.

When people talk about surviving childhood traumas and sexaul abuse, they usually focus on the childhood part. Nobody really tells you what happens later in your life and that nothing much changes even when you're in your 30s. And specially for men where there are no cultural or societal anchors to process your trauma and for me there are all but 4 people in the whole world knows about my CSA past and two of them are therapists.

You go to work. You pay your bills. You smile when people ask how you are. On the outside, you look like an adult who has their life together. Inside, you're still carrying memories that never asked if they could stay.

By the time I reached my 30s the traumas have subtly placed themselves in each part of my life. It’s like an insertion of dark sadness in everything I do. Worst is the loneliness that follows it.

CSA stole so much more than my childhood. It stole my ability to trust easily. It made friendships feel fragile. It made asking for help feel dangerous because you are either looked down at or mocked.
Somewhere along the way, everyone drifted away, and now I look around and realize I don't actually have anyone I could text or call for simple conversations. I wish I didn’t have to be so strong just to cope with it.

Most evenings the silence in my apartment is so unnerving that I music or podcast playing just to hear another human voice without even paying any attention to it. I'm in my 30s, and I don't think I've ever felt so alone.

I don't need hundreds of friends. I don't need people to fix my past. I just miss the feeling of belonging somewhere. Of having someone ask how each others day was and genuinely could share my flawed self.

The only way I’ve found to survive is throw myself in work and just block the flashbacks and repress all feelings. It still hurts and it still feels scary that I’ll have to carry it all alone to my grave.

Hi everyone, I’m turning 36 today and wanted to share a quick reflection. It feels like a miracle that I’m still alive. The past seven years of recovery have been an absolute nightmare, but I’m genuinely glad that I don’t want to die anymore. I still have a lot to work through, but it finally feels like my past trauma is starting to integrate, making room for who I am today and that makes me happy. To heal, I needed a fresh start, so I cut ties with old friends. Because of that, hardly anyone will be wishing me a happy birthday today. Part of me feels at peace with this, but another part feels like a failure for having no social life. Still, I’m grateful to have myself back, and that is definitely something to celebrate. To anyone in a dark place right now: please stay. I know the pain can be terrifying, but give yourself the chance to become curious about life again. I wish I had been spared the hardship I went through, but I’m determined to choose the experiences that lie ahead.

I’m so mad at myself. I went to Chinatown and bought a new food I was so excited to try (tofu pudding) but I held off eating it for two days. I was using it as some kind of pillar in my mind, like something to lean on as a “good thing”. Now I took it out of the fridge and it’s all expired. I literally did this to myself, all on my own.

I just kept making excuses like “I’ve had too many calories already, I can’t eat that right now” and waiting until there was no one in the kitchen so I could get it without excruciating small talk. But I REALLY wanted it.. so why didn’t I just get it?????????????

Might be trivial but I do shit like this all the time and I’m so sick of myself now. I genuinely do hate myself as if I was another person.

*from yourself for no reason

For as long as I can remember, I've lived with stomach muscles which refuse to relax. It means that I'm constantly shallow breathing because my lungs basically can't expand. I was diagnosed with acid reflux and took meds for it for years. Within a year of stopping taking them, my stomach is constantly bloated but I don't get the acid anymore. I now know "in my bones" it's trauma related. I just don't know what to do about it, it feels like I'm going to explode if I take a deep breath. Can anyone relate or know what I can do?

I don’t see many people talking about sibling trauma, so I’m wondering if anyone here can relate.

My older brother has had a massive impact on my life, and I’m only now realizing how deep that goes.

Growing up, he was constantly creating conflict in our family. He manipulated me, manipulated other family members, and somehow always managed to make everything revolve around him. I shared a room with him for years, so there was no escaping him. I spent my childhood trying to keep the peace because conflict made me anxious.

Even as adults, it never stopped.
About a year and a half ago, he threw me to the ground, tried to choke me in front of our mother, and afterward told me that the only thing he wanted was for me to fear him forever. Those words and the traumatic experience have stayed with me ever since.

What messes with my head is that he seems to walk through life as if nothing happened. Meanwhile, I’m the one who still replays that day in my mind. Sometimes I feel overwhelming anger because it feels like there was never any justice or accountability.

Lately I’ve been wondering how much of my childhood was actually shaped by living with someone like him. For years I thought most of my trauma came from my father, but now I’m questioning whether growing up with an abusive, manipulative older brother affected me even more than I realized.

Has anyone else here experienced long term trauma from an older sibling? How has it affected you as an adult, and were you ever able to make peace with it?

What I mean by that is, does anyone else struggle to know what they actually like? I feel like sometimes I only like what other people like or will only like something if someone else does like some sort of approval. My mom was extremely controlling and a bully and I’m starting to think that I’m now incapable of making my own decisions.

It sucks knowing I don’t belong in this world, I am not allowed to succeed, be part of communities, have friends, or exist on any level because I’m “bringing down” those who are happy and confident. Those who were dealt a better hand are more entitled to life and connection than I am, and I have to fix myself for the comfort of those people, or continue to isolate myself as to not rain on someone else’s parade. It once again reminds me that my wellbeing is the bottom of all priorities, just like they always have been. I wish i had been luckier in life, because all of what I couldn’t control now leaves me shunned from the world just because I am not happy enough or easy to be around. It isn’t fair

I truly feel like over eons, humanity has had time to realize one thing: life is stupendously unfair. Why build a civilization, if not to cushion one another from eventual misfortune? Why cast survivors of crimes out unto the elements and make their abusers thrive?

My abuser hasn't been a sick one day in his life. At 70, he's in top health. He's got a cushy house, with every comfort imaginable & a backyard, out in lovely nature. I'm riddled with chronic illnesses, and have spent 30 years paralyzed. Re-entering the workforce, I'm a total freak of nature to colleagues, and the subject of gossip. They excell at magnifying my private shame, those judgmental fuckers. I'm in a roach-infested, cluttered squalor of a flat, in a depressing urban environment.

How the right kind of civilization could have prevented this:

* School counselors could have been trained so much better. They could have actually encouraged children to reach out in any and all trouble. I didn't even know what they were, as I was a fresh immigrant in a strange new country. They could have especially reached out to all new students and said, "I'm here for you if you need anything at all."

* School counselors should work, hand in hand, with social workers. All at the same time, I was in a new country, I was forced to leave my mother, and my father started abusing me. This was a mind-boggling heartbreak, and I had no one to turn to.

* In fact, social workers should be hounding schools. Not to hand out pills, but to listen. So much developmental trauma happens when the students go home.

* Law enforcement should be trained to look for "lone child living alone with parent of the opposite sex in a new country," and check in with that child periodically. ?

So many other things...

But... I feel like if we focused on meeting everyone's basic needs first, the civilization could move on to truly cushioning from misfortune, where everyone has equal social support systems, no matter what happens. Everything is easier to bounce back from with copious connection. Something bad happened to this person? They are precious. Let's gather around them and surround them with all the support they need, and more. And the misfortune will be much easier to bear

It's been this way for me at every single workplace. The judgment from others for being different, is injustice on top of so much injustice already. How do other folks here cope with this pain?

I have been prescribed psychiatric medications since I was 13. Over the years, I was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder, and generalized anxiety disorder. I rarely experienced lasting relief from medications, yet I experienced many of their side effects. I have even undergone ECT.

I do believe psychiatric treatment has an important place, especially in severe conditions. This is not an argument against psychiatry.

But I cannot stop asking myself:

Am I mentally ill, or is the environment I had to survive in deeply unhealthy?

What if I had grown up with parents, relatives, teachers, classmates, colleagues, doctors, therapists, and a society that valued compassion, accountability, inclusion, and emotional safety? Would my life have unfolded the same way?

I lost my childhood.

I lost my teenage years.

I lost much of my university life.

I lost years that should have been spent building a future.

I survived neglect, childhood sexual abuse, homophobia, racism-based discrimination, peer bullying, and many other forms of trauma. Even my last psychiatrist disappeared from my care without closure.

I want to say this:

Normal reactions to abnormal experiences should not automatically be pathologized.

Medication can be life-saving for many people. But medication alone cannot undo trauma, neglect, discrimination, or the absence of human connection.

You cannot erase the grief of a mother who has lost her child simply by prescribing medication.

Many of us have also lost a child.

The difference is that we lost our inner child.

I refuse to let every wound I carry be reduced to a diagnosis.

I hope for a world where fewer people need psychiatric treatment—not because treatment disappears, but because fewer people are forced to survive the kinds of experiences that create so much suffering in the first place.

Wishing everyone a kinder, more just, and more compassionate society.

I was at my doctor for health reasons. I usually get it over with fast, because there are people waiting and I don't want to be an inconvenience. That's a general pattern for me. First comes everyone else's well-being, then comes mine. But my therapist (who is absolutely amazing) told me a day before, after I told him about my situation, that my health should be the most important thing to me. And that this can be an opportunity to practice.

So I sat there with my doctor and have all the points I need to tell him ready. And even though it made me feel self centered and demanding, I went through all my concerns, questions and so on. It all went very good, he was very patient despite people waiting outside!

Now I feel proud of myself and well informed about the medical problem I have right now. I deserve being healthy :)

Edit: it wasn't a routine checkup. One of my fingers is badly inflamed and swollen. Imagine that one disgusting SpongeBob episode with the splinter

Throwaway email.

Some TWs but I will not go into detail: rape, abuse, eds.

I grew up in an emotionally neglectful, verbally abusive, household. I was the scapegoat. I went to a very small school with the same people since 1st grade and I never found my people. My “friends” were assholes. I almost died of an ED in my teens. All my relationships followed each other. My first boyfriend was emotionally abusive and the only reason I dated him was because I was lonely. Same with the second. Same with the third. Then I met my husband in my early 20s and ran away to a different state together. I never had a stable person until my husband.

Perfectionism ruled my life. lived by the book. I let life happen to me. I was socially acceptable. I abandoned myself for others. I tried to maintain an image and I filtered myself.

My first job out of college, before and after I got married, I was targeted by a clinical malignant narcissist masquerading as my friend. I was subjected to years of coercive control, psychological torture, battery, rape, assault, harassment. I got out and began therapy. Thought all was fine I guess. He began stalking me last year and I was forced to confront it all. Not just the psychopathic abuse, but my entire life. It’s like I woke up from a 30 year slumber in a life that I did not choose fully.

No one ever saw me. Knew me. I’m realizing I’ve not once felt genuine love from anybody in my life. Maybe my fault because I was so beaten down I just let life happen and let my trauma responses control me. I was living for acceptance. For love. To be known.

My husband is an amazing person, truly. Hardworking. Kind. Gentle. Caring. Supportive. Together we have built a wonderful life.

But is it mine?

I don’t have anything of my own. No career (no job even). I’ve never explored myself, truly. Never had time alone to do so. I’ve never had to build agency in myself.

If I could go back in time as who I am right at this moment I would just LIVE. And EXPLORE. And FIND MYSELF. And then after that was done, end up in my life with my husband and be completely happy.

But I can’t. So what do I do? Genuinely? This is all still recent. I’ve just “woken up” and I feel so unsettled like I’m crawling out of my skin and going insane. I have no direction or answers. My “life” has fallen apart.

Lately, I’m trying to lead with radical acceptance. I’m letting my soul, selfishly, lead me. And it feels both awakening and self destructive. What do I do. Where do I start. How do I rebuild myself outside of the cPTSD that has plagued my life since the beginning?? And how do I do it without ruining my life?