I remember thinking when I was first diagnosed with ptsd that it kinda made sense to me. My house was kinda like a battlefield. But when I’d discovered cptsd it made complete sense. My house was completely like a POW camp.
I come across people all the time who have been diagnosed with cptsd but don’t associate any of their upbringing to any kind of prison or cult-like atmosphere. For me, cptsd was validation that it was all the things that happened to me that were causing all these symptoms. For these people, the diagnosis brought no comfort to them at all.
As I sat and thought about how some of these stories differed, it wasn’t that the abuse wasn’t as traumatizing as mine, even if there wasn’t physical violence involved. The difference was that somewhere within me I knew that what happened to me was total bs, whereas a…
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