Try This Instead…
Sometimes, you just want to be told why you do the things you do, and what to do instead. “Try This Instead” is self-help that doesn’t suck — it’s an advice column written by me, Sam Dylan Finch, a neurodivergent writer and lived experience advocate who’s passionate about sharing what I’ve learned.
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Hi Sam. How do you know whether or not you have complex PTSD/trauma? I worry that what I went through wasn’t “traumatic” enough to warrant a diagnosis, and I don’t want to claim something that isn’t mine to claim. Where is the line drawn? And is it wrong to say I have C-PTSD if it’s a helpful label to me?
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I’m really glad that someone asked me this question.
I’m glad because, too often, survivors diminish their own suffering. As Pete Walker, a trauma survivor and psychotherapist specializing in C-PTSD, points out, the inner critic of a survivor is particularly strong.
I think when we combine this with a culture of invalidation (one which, generally speaking, does not believe or affirm survivors), it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that coming to terms with trauma is such a challenge.
Before we go any further, let’s define C-PTSD.
Complex PTSD is a mental health condition that results from ongoing, chronic trauma.
For folks who would rather not pathologize their trauma or reduce it to an illness of sorts, we can also understand it as a very valid pattern of responses within the body and psyche to ongoing or past harm.
We hear about complex PTSD most often in the context of relational harm, particularly where there is an imbalance of power, like abuse or neglect by a caregiver.
But this could encompass any kind of trauma that is repeated and prolonged, which is what makes this different from acute PTSD, which is usually the result of an event or series of events.
I would add that systemic oppression (like racism or ableism) is inherently imbalanced as well, which is why I think there’s such an abundance of trauma survivors in marginalized communities.
Complex PTSD, then, describes a very specific response that results from ongoing trauma.
How C-PTSD manifests might include:
- Difficulty regulating emotions (sometimes called “emotional dysregulation”)
- Suicidality and/or self-injury
- Forgetting significant parts of the trauma
- Reliving it through rumination or emotional flashbacks
- Dissociation or a sense of unreality
- Struggles within interpersonal relationships, like withdrawal, mistrust, or self-abandonment
- Intense helplessness, guilt, and shame
- A sense of being distinctly different from other people
- And, in some cases, paranoia and psychosis
As with any form of trauma, though, no two survivors will react the same way — C-PTSD, then, is an umbrella term that describes a reaction to ongoing trauma that persists well after someone has left the context in which that trauma has occurred, a lot of which survivors may not even be consciously aware of.
Notice how the definition and criteria does not “draw the line” on whose trauma is severe enough to warrant a diagnosis. That’s because complex trauma is typically defined by a power dynamic, the chronic nature of the harm, and the resulting reaction to that harm.
prolonged helplessness in the face of harm, without the ability to process Or Escape it, is thought to be the ‘recipe’ for complex trauma.
I’d strongly encourage anyone who’s worried about whether they are “traumatized enough” to not compare themselves to other survivors but, instead, try asking themselves the following questions:
- Do the so-called symptoms of C-PTSD describe my experiences? Does this language resonate with me and my experience? Do I feel affirmed when I read about it?
- Does the framework of C-PTSD help me better understand myself? Could claiming this diagnosis help me gain more self-insight and support?
- Is my reaction to what I endured interfering with my life, or am I curious to explore how it might be? To be clear, you might not notice yet how trauma is impacting your life if it’s all you’ve ever known — but it may help you decide if a diagnosis and seeking care is something you want to explore, or not.
Finding a trauma-informed therapist or other healing professional to explore these questions with you is, in my opinion, a really great place to start.
Given how often survivors downplay their struggles and how often they are gaslit into thinking their perception is wrong, getting a second opinion from someone who deeply understands trauma can be an important part of healing.
I personally don’t love the slippery slope of pathologizing trauma — or, put another way, framing it as an “illness” to be diagnosed and managed by a professional.
I think that one of the most important parts of navigating trauma is actually to affirm that your response to what happened to you makes complete and total sense, while finding new ways to process and make meaning out of it that feel good for you.
That said, a diagnosis can still unlock helpful information and feel validating, and make supports and resources available that can help you in that journey. If taking that step is part of what helps you validate your experience, I’d encourage you to explore it!
But if you aren’t ready or wanting to speak to a professional, a “valid” diagnosis is ultimately about whatever supports you in your recovery.
So if claiming a complex PTSD diagnosis helps you to that end, I think self-diagnosis can be just as empowering for some folks!
If trauma is affecting your well-being, you deserve compassion, care, and support. Full stop.
It’s important to note that while complex PTSD is becoming a popular framework in clinical settings, it hasn’t yet made it into the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, a tool typically used by clinicians to diagnose mental health conditions — it was a pretty contentious decision to not include it, for what it’s worth).
Depending on where you live and the type of billing codes your mental health provider uses, though, you may still be able to get a diagnosis in your records.
Some clinicians, for example, will flag the existence of complex trauma by noting it as a “history of psychological trauma,” and offer resources accordingly. This is worth discussing with a trusted clinician who can help you decide next steps.
Speaking of, a trauma-informed clinician can also help you navigate recovery, including exploring different types of therapy (I’ve personally benefited so much from Internal Family Systems or parts work, as well as somatic therapy), medication, and other interventions, like the Safe and Sound Protocol (SSP).
The bottom-line? The mere fact that you’re wondering if you’re traumatized indicates that you could benefit from some support. Interrogating yourself won’t help you to this end, but seeking out resources will.
I hope that we eventually live in a world where survivors don’t feel that they have to “prove” themselves to be worthy of care.
But until then, please take this advice column as a permission slip: Your trauma is valid and it matters, no matter how it compares to someone else’s. And getting support for that pain you’ve been carrying is long overdue.
You’ve got this, friend.
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☑️ Up-to-date! This checkmark means that this content has been reviewed and updated for our relaunch in January 2025. Some reader comments may therefore be out of context.
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