Complex PTSD Explained, Part I: Understanding You’re Not Too Much — You’re Healing From Too Much

There’s a unique kind of heartbreak that comes from trauma—not just in the world, but in places that were supposed to feel safe.

For many women, trauma didn’t just happen in one moment. It happened slowly. Quietly. Repeatedly. Over time, it began shaping how they saw themselves, others, and even God.

If you’ve ever wondered…

• Why do I feel like I’m always bracing for something bad to happen?

• Why do I struggle to trust—even people I love?

• Why do I feel broken, even though I’m trying so hard to heal?

…you’re not alone. You may be experiencing what’s known as Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or CPTSD—and understanding it might be one of the most compassionate things you could do for yourself.

What Is CPTSD?

Most people are familiar with PTSD, which often stems from a single traumatic event—like a car accident, an assault, or a natural disaster.

Complex PTSD (CPTSD) is different. It develops over time, from chronic, repeated trauma, often beginning in childhood or in relationships where escape or protection wasn’t possible. Instead of one event causing a wound, CPTSD is like a thousand small paper cuts that never had the chance to heal.

But here is what’s important to understand:

CPTSD doesn’t mean something is wrong with you. It means something happened to you.
And your body did exactly what God designed it to do: protect you.

The Science Behind the Symptoms (and the God Who Designed Your Brain)

Your nervous system has a built-in alarm system: the fight, flight, freeze, or fawn response. This is how God lovingly designed your body to respond to danger—with speed, strength, and survival in mind.

When something threatening happens, your brain instantly sends signals to protect you. Your heart races, your breath quickens, your muscles tense. It is a beautifully designed system meant to keep you alive.

But when trauma is ongoing, especially in environments where the danger is emotional or relational (like a harmful parent, partner, or spiritual authority), that alarm system starts to malfunction. It gets stuck in the “on” position. Even when you’re technically safe, your body doesn’t register it as such.

Your brain begins to interpret anything remotely similar to the original threat as a new danger. And you react accordingly—without even realizing why.

A Simple Example: The Snake and the Stick

Let’s imagine you’re walking through the woods and you spot a poisonous snake up ahead. Your body instantly responds: heart pounding, breathing shallow, muscles tense, adrenaline rushing. You leap back in fear.

That response is valid—it kept you safe.

Now imagine that a week later, you’re walking the same trail. But this time, you see a stick that looks like a snake. Before your rational mind has time to assess it, your body reacts the exact same way—because it remembers the threat and wants to protect you.

The threat isn’t real this time—but the reaction is.

This is what happens in CPTSD. Your body remembers the danger long after it’s gone. Your amygdala (the brain’s fear center) is crafted to react to perceived threats before your prefrontal cortex (your rational brain) has a chance to weigh in.

This is God’s good design. In a crisis situation, it is best that you react as quickly as possible (amygdala) as opposed to taking the time to brainstorm, contemplate, and thoughtfully make a decision (prefrontal cortex).

God designed your body and your brain to protect you.

That’s CPTSD. Your brain and body have been trained by trauma to stay in survival mode—even when the danger is no longer present.

It doesn’t mean you’re crazy. It doesn’t mean you’re broken.
It means you adapted.
And healing is about gently helping your nervous system learn the difference between past danger and present safety.

What was once wired in for protection—can be rewired for peace.
That’s the beauty of neuroplasticity. And that’s the promise of hope.

How CPTSD Shows Up (Even Years Later)

Trauma doesn’t live in the past—it lives in the body. CPTSD can echo through your life in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. Here are just a few:

1. Emotional Flooding or Shutdown

You might feel like your emotions hit out of nowhere. Or you might go numb. One minute you are fine, and the next minute you feel anxious, angry, or unable to function.

This isn’t a character flaw. It’s your nervous system saying, “I’m overwhelmed.”

2. Persistent Shame and Self-Doubt

CPTSD can leave you feeling like you’re never enough—like something is wrong with you. You might replay conversations, feel crushed by your inner critic, or struggle to believe you’re lovable.

Shame isn’t truth. It’s a scar left by wounds that weren’t yours to carry.

3. Difficulty Trusting or Connecting

You may long for closeness but find it hard to feel safe. Or you might attach quickly, then fear abandonment. You may feel exhausted by your own relationships—never quite settled.

CPTSD disrupts our ability to regulate attachment and might make us feel either hyper-independent or overly dependent. It’s not who you are—it’s what you’ve been through.

4. People-Pleasing, Perfectionism, and Overfunctioning

You might find yourself constantly trying to “get it right,” keep the peace, or earn love by giving too much. CPTSD teaches us that love is conditional—that we have to perform, sacrifice, or disappear to be safe.

But God never asked you to disappear. (Ephesians 2:10, Matthew 5:16)

Healing Is Possible—and It’s Not Too Late

The good news? Healing doesn’t require perfection. It just requires gentleness and willingness. You don’t have to do it alone. And you don’t have to do it all at once.

Here’s where to begin:

Validate your experience.
What happened to you matters. Even if others didn’t believe you or minimized it—God never did. Your pain is real, and so is your strength.

Pay attention to your patterns.
Do you feel guilty for saying no? Constantly anticipate others’ moods? These aren’t just quirks—they’re survival strategies. And they can be unlearned.

Practice nervous system care.
Simple grounding techniques—like deep breathing, walking, humming, vagus nerve resets, or using your senses—help send signals of safety to your body. Over time, your brain learns: I’m not in danger anymore.

Seek support.
You don’t have to do this alone. A trauma-informed counselor, faith-rooted therapist, or safe community can walk with you. Healing is hard—but it doesn’t have to be lonely.

Be patient with the process.
You may grieve, rage, doubt, and hope—all in the same day. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re healing.

A Gentle Word for the Journey

If healing has felt complicated, I want you to know—it’s not because you’re weak. It’s because what happened to you was never simple.

And if you’ve struggled to understand why it feels so hard to trust again—even trust God—you’re not alone.

In my next article, I’ll gently explore how spiritual abuse and distorted church teachings can deepen these wounds. Because sometimes, the trauma doesn’t just come from relationships—it comes from the places where you were told God lived.

But today, just know this:

You are not too much. You are healing from too much.
You are not broken. You are becoming whole.
You are not behind. You are right on time.

And if it still feels hard to believe that…

I’ll believe it for you until you can believe it for yourself.

Begin Your Healing Journey

If you’re carrying the weight of complex trauma and feeling overwhelmed, know this: healing is possible, and you don’t have to walk this path alone. Through my newsletter, you’ll receive compassionate, faith-informed guidance, reflections, and tools to gently reclaim peace, safety, and wholeness.

Sign up to receive support straight to your inbox—and if you feel ready, consider scheduling a confidential consultation. Together, we can create a personalized plan to honor your journey, at your pace and with your dignity intact.

With you,
Charlene Richardson, LMHC & Trauma-Informed Coach