Only a few weeks ago I didn’t know I had PTSD. I was on a Zoom call with a new therapist supporting me through my most recent personal work, and as a matter of course she asked me if I had ever been diagnosed. I said of course I had not without pausing to give it any thought. PTSD is a debilitating condition, after all, and I am highly functioning, so I couldn’t possibly have it. Our conversation continued, and a few moments later I was sharing on the topic of my childhood, and the tears came, as they usually do, and my shoulders started to sink slightly, my voice began to crack, and I began shaking a little. I continued speaking, unfazed, as this happens every time I share about my childhood. This happens to me every time I speak about my childhood. I paused. And I asked the question that never occurred to me. “Is this what it means to have PTSD?” She smiled to hide a little giggle, and she said “I’m not laughing at you, Rebecca. I’m just so happy for you that you finally came to that realization on your own.”

PTSD is defined by the Mayo Clinic as a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying or otherwise significantly traumatic event — either experiencing it or witnessing it, where symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event. In most cases, with time, support, and good self-care, though people who go through traumatic events may have temporary difficulty adjusting and coping, they usually get better. PTSD, or CPTSD occur when the symptoms worsen, last for months or years, and/or interfere with your day-to-day functioning.

It was a totally benign comment that set me down this path of self-discovery. My partner and I had gone to pick his son up from his girlfriend’s house, and when we returned home we didn’t have the key fob to open the gate. I asked if his son wanted to use the pedestrian gate to go inside, rather than wait with us in the car. He declined. Once we finally were able to tailgate someone into the complex, and had gotten back into the apartment, my partner pulled me aside and let me know that question made his son uncomfortable. All I was able to hear in that moment was I had made a 14-year-old child uncomfortable. It sent me down a shame spiral right to the heart of my own childhood abuse and trauma. I had dreams and nightmares about it the whole night. When we woke up the next morning my partner asked if I was okay and with all certainty I let him know that no, I was very much not okay.

For the next few days I stayed in my pajamas, wept off and on, ate like a kindergartner, danced to Disney songs on shuffle, and reminded myself “You were just a kid,” every time the tears welled back up again. I won’t go into all the ways in which my step-mother was neglectful of my needs and abusive in ways that demonstrated she always considered me a rival. Here are a few: there were condoms blown up and thrown at me, refusal to purchase the things I needed when I had my period, constant comments on my being overweight, my appearance being too like my mother, my father loving me more than her, telling me she resented me, she was jealous of me, she could never love me, planning date nights with my father during our visitation time and leaving me home to babysit. Just stuff like that. There were kids that had it worse than me. And yet, I missed out on the last few years I could have spent with my father before he died because of her.

I was just a kid, but I was dealing with big things —divorce, puberty, navigating my own sexuality and spirituality, transitioning to a very demanding and competitive high school program, both parents getting remarried, dating, my father dying of cancer, and my own stress-induced health issues because of it all. I did not get to be just a kid. The adults around me didn’t have the capacity to protect and guide me. Looking back on this time in my life I recognize now that my sickness was a result of swallowing all this poison, and continuing to force myself to achieve, while making myself as useful and amenable as possible. The circumstances were unchangeable, so I contorted myself with folds and cuts to fit myself as best as I could within the space I was given.

Life is full of compromises. Control over anyone or anything other than ourselves is an illusion. When we are faced with insurmountable external circumstances, often all we can change is ourselves. Sometimes this change is true growth, when we have the time to cultivate it. But more often than not, this change is a matter of sacrificing a piece or a part of ourselves for survival. Sometimes it feels like we are the proverbial wolf caught in a trap, who chews off her own foot to escape. I have chewed off many parts of myself in this lifetime to get free of the things that held me down, and I have never looked back. Still there are parts of me I have sacrificed over the years that are so integral to who I am, I can never be fully whole without them. And a big part of my work is consciously calling them back to me.

If any of this post resonates with or describes you, please get help. If you are working your process, and have the support you need to reintegrate the missing pieces of yourself you may have sacrificed along the way, here’s a practice to help:

Calling Yourself Home

Breathe in, slowing, and extending the in breath;

Holding the fullness of breath within your lungs;

Breathing out, slowing, and extending the exhalation, feeling yourself being breathed in by all the beings around as you exhale;

Hold the space of emptiness for longer than is natural;

Repeat until you feel yourself shift.

Breathe into your whole being, letting the breath reach out to the edges of you…all the way to the tippy top of your head, and the pointy points of your toes. Breathe yourself as full as if to make yourself burst.

• Feel the breath as it pulses in the crown of your head, and ask yourself, what parts of my connection to the divine have I sacrificed? Breathe here for several breaths until the answer comes.

• Breathe into your mind’s eye, your psychic eye, your third eye, and ask yourself, what parts of my vision have I sacrificed? Breathe here until you can see the answer clearly.

• Let your throat open up with the breath; where have I sacrificed my voice? Where have I been silenced? Breathe here to feel into your full voice.

• Breathe next into your heart, feeling how the breathe expands your chest, your heart open…front and back…don’t forget the back of your heart too. Where have I been cut off from being loved and loving? Breathe here until you know.

• Let the breath continue down, feeling into all these questions:

• Where have I sacrificed my sense of connection to the world and others?

• Where have I lost the ability to express my will in the world?

• Where have I been disconnected from my sexuality and sexual expression?

• Where am I missing connection to ancestry?

• Where have I cut off my connection to primal life force?

• What places have I wanted to go but could not?

• What acts of good will or service might I have done but did not?

• What gift or service would I have given to myself but did not?

Continue to breathe into your being, giving yourself a chance to remember all that has been lost.

Gaze into your reflection in the mirror if it is accessible and comfortable, otherwise gaze internally into your reflection in your mind's eye, let your gaze soften, your jaw slacken, your shoulders relax, taking as relaxed and comfortable posture as you are able. Continuing to breathe, and to also sink into the space between breaths.

Say out loud as many times as you need to until you feel it sincerely in your heart:

"I call back to myself all the parts of myself I have sacrificed, knowingly or unknowingly."

"I call back to myself all the parts of myself I have sacrificed, knowingly or unknowingly."

"I call back to myself all the parts of myself I have sacrificed, knowingly or unknowingly."

Bless it with breath.

Repeat this any time as a ward against shame, negative thoughts or feelings.

Say it as an affirmation throughout the day.

Integrate it as a part of a daily practice or ritual.

Be healed and be whole.

Blessed be.

💖