Trust and PTSD do not mix.

I have had three lives, an abusive childhood, an adult life with PTSD inactive, and then a contentious life after PTSD exploded.



We are innocent victims of horrendous abuse as kids, with no escape, no chance at a normal brain or life.

As an adult, PTSD was dormant till around 55 when all hell broke loose.

Somehow I became a pro athlete, then a successful salesman.

How in the world did I ever exist as a salesman baffles me now?

After PTSD exploded life changed drastically.

That salesman was lost, I can not find anyone inside who could function like that, a guy who excelled at influencing strangers.

Who was that guy, where did he go, how did he accomplish those things.

This PTSD Marty could not be more different.

Those feelings about myself before PTSD exploded are gone, confusing residue from my past remains.

The confidence and courage to be a salesman are lost, and the desire to attach to others is gone.

Trust disappeared when PTSD exploded.

My childhood abuse came alive, I avoided people, out of safety for my being.

I can not describe the fear and distrust my active PTSD brings to my subconscious every day.

Feeling safe and connected is absent now.

I am lucky and grateful for my adult life when PTSD was inactive.

Life with PTSD active is harsh, the danger is always a companion, and we would rather be at home safe than in any social function.

Trust and PTSD do not mix.

6 responses to this post.

  1. It’s interesting how well we can function when everything is repressed and, in a way, we are acting, or taking on a persona. Do you think there is any way you can recover that person?

  2. Interesting question

    At 70 I do not know but strive to improve

    I always knew I was different, my childhood I knew was horrendous but as you say, I repressed all of it and carried on

    I have memory of the accomplishments but not how I accomplished them

    Old age brings more helplessness as I grow weaker and PTSD powers up

    It is harder to distract myself nowadays

    My energy at 70 is limited

    At times I resent what people did to me, the betrayals and the trauma

    It is an active battle as you can see

    A soldier hearing a car backfire involuntarily hits the ground

    PTSD controls that response, before combination, before thought

    My triggers do not force me to the ground, they paralyze me with fear and chemicals.

    I would settle for a little piece of mind

  3. Rudid96 responded to another post

    The role of the salesman was false. You were able to summon up the creative forces within to create the outline of choice. A nice testament to your inner strength and intellect. I’ve adopted lots of socially sanctioned false roles. These masks allow for life navigation for a limited time and then they become too difficult because they’re inauthentic. C-PTSD leaves me feeling like a stranger even to myself. Since many of us live more socially isolated, we lack the witnessing that helps meld the personality.

  4. My awareness deepens as I get a view of the big picture

    I appreciate the life when PTSD was dormant

    Our memories are clouded and my complex PTSD has a dark side

    Part of my life was much better than now.

    That is refreahing

  5. Posted by rudid96 on May 29, 2022 at 2:23 pm

    I gave your comments much thought. The missive, “Who was that guy, where did he go?…” is consistent for C-PTSD thrivers. In the past, the jobs I’ve held, some extraordinarily public, are a far cry from my current non-persona. With conscious effort, I find a toehold on self-compassion when I remind myself that a diapered infant is vastly different than the grown adult. This is simply another version of life transitions as I travel around the sun. However, if I look carefully, I must acknowledge that the demons were all there but were more distractions, more desires, and more expectations. That’s youth.
    Now, it’s a different season. A quieter time. It feels somewhat shameful and spoiled to reveal there’s still a struggle. The truth is I have the luxury of time, health, and material resources. I can accept that personas come and go. However, for the first time, I’m without dreams. That’s the empty part. The desire revolves around marshaling the energy to fill out the immediate day. What happened to the ‘doer,’ the ‘builder.?’ And yet, those roles felt fake.
    Now, my days flow one into the other, with uniformity. The isolation of the Pandemic wasn’t a challenge. If anything, it was a comfort. The world and I were simpatico. Today, occasionally there’s the rare momentary spark of imagination only to peter out before it ignites. Is it a lack of desire, motivation, or energy? Or, is this the real thievery of PTSD?
    Perhaps the answer will be found not in a repetition of the old ego models but by embracing these quieter versions of self. The Salesman, Pro Baseball player, and my public roles sparkled while their day in the sun. Today, the contemplative, articulate, connector is shining. The real question is who is judging the value?

  6. Wow

    That would be an insightful

    Let me respond to a few

    Dreams gone

    Oh yes well I dream
    Of being happy go Lucky or out of pain I would settle

    The pandemic and wearing a mask made Me feel

    6 from apart thank

    Is it a lack of desire, motivation, or energy? Or, is this the real thievery of PTSD?


    Old age is hard with PTSD

    I was a top
    Salesman but hated conventions and big sales

    Salesman were different than me

    That were cocky and confident

    I was a grinder

    I would outwork and out perform you

    Then retreat and hide

    It was
    Like preparing for battle
    Going to work

    Put on the game face

    That actor

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