This post is also the transcript to an episode from the Complex Trauma Recovery; Traumatized Motherfucker podcast, available wherever you listen. Just search “complex trauma.” Find more episodes, blogs, and discord community application at www.t-mfrs.com

Things I’ve gotten good at throughout this Trauma journey:

Seeing connections between where I’m from and where I am

Thinking for the first time about where I’m going

Letting myself have emotions

Letting those emotions go

Redirecting my energy and attention away from ruminating

Being accountable for my own feelings

Being accountable for times of being a shithead

Listening and validating other humans

Listening and…


Waking up, like I didn’t sleep for weeks. Falling asleep after five minutes on my feet. A pounding head. That sense of dread. Sticky sharp pains through in my shoulders and neck. Brain short on energy, missing a few cards from the deck. Waves of nausea and stomach cramps. Chills and sweats, depending on the body amps. Swollen lymph nodes. Muscle weakness poorly bodes. Insatiable hunger but nothing sounds edible — shit, now desire to throw up is incredible. Eyes shriveling, dry, back into my skull. The aches in my legs, pulsing and dull. Foggy thoughts. Racing heart. …


This article, like all writings from the author, is the blog-transcription of a podcast episode, available on every podcasting service. If you prefer to listen, just search “Complex Trauma” wherever you stream, or visit www.t-mfrs.com for more posts, episodes, and access to the online support community.

So… uh… I already recorded this episode. After I had been making this misguided, “Might as fucking well humiliate myself,” podcast for a few weeks it seemed like a good idea to take a step back and talk about the definition of this CPTSD thing that we’re all learning about. One day I had…


For extended versions of articles like this one, or to listen rather than read my rants, check out t-mfrs.com and subscribe to the Traumatized Motherfucker podcast wherever you stream.

So, this one is piggy-backing off my prior post on my recent family loss. Wouldn’t you know. there are a lot of interesting things coming up. Today, I’m getting a bit… pardon me… spiritual.

I’m going to make this one as brief as possible. I could ramble for years, but I’ll contain myself. Truthfully, I try to keep my woo-ideals out of this podcast for the sake of not pushing any…


For extended versions of articles like this one, or to listen rather than read my rants, check out t-mfrs.com and subscribe to the Traumatized Motherfucker podcast wherever you stream.

Let’s talk about this untimely death situation.

Well. This is a big topic that I’m not sure how to tackle, per se. Death is a new one to me. I’ve been relatively lucky that way. The death of the person who passed down most of our family trauma… that’s an even trickier situation to tackle, probably for anyone, I would guess.

So, make no mistake — yes, I am talking about…


More interested in listening? There’s a podcast for that. Just search “Complex Trauma” wherever you listen to connect with the Traumatized Motherfucker podcast. www.t-mfrs.com

Recently, I’ve been thinking about Complex Trauma as it relates to a special buddy of mine… Probably because I spend too much time silently wandering around the yard doing physical therapy, and also because I consider him to be my child, like a bit of a nutjob… But regardless, Archie speaks to me when it comes to this Motherfucking Trauma life and recovery journey.

Today, I’m finally putting my Archie-obsessed thoughts onto paper. Forgive me, if…


Prefer listening? Check out the Traumatized Motherfucker podcast for an audio version. Just search “complex trauma” wherever you listen.

Who has bad taste in romantic partners? I do!

No matter how many times I think I’m choosing wisely… uh… I’m not. Plain and simple, I don’t know how to choose a good human for my significant other.

Am I a chronic dater? Just taking whatever comes my way? Nope, actually I love my alone time and I don’t seek out romantic partners, well, ever really. Too energetically and emotionally expensive. Complicated. Stressful. Painful. Dangerous.

No, I’m not one of those…


Prefer listening? Check out the Traumatized Motherfucker podcast for an audio version. Just search “complex trauma” wherever you listen.

It was 2016, I was 26 years old. I had just gone through a major life-shittery period that stretched from 23 to the present year (and would get much worse from there). In this period, I had a mental illness explosion sparked by a non-stop schedule of achievement and desperate hustling to stay financially afloat, exacerbated by seeing a horrible free therapist who told me I had PTSD, and a boy who loved and left me… and that was it.

Then…


Prefer listening? Check out the Traumatized Motherfucker podcast for an audio version. Just search “complex trauma” wherever you listen.

Sometimes people ask HOW I got any of my shit in order. And let me be clear — I think it’s misguided to ask me — I’m an idiot who just so happened to figure some things out after a lot of trial and error, and enjoys writing too much.

That being said, I’ve taken a few steps on the Trauma Recovery journey that we all face. I’m not saying those steps were taken running, with leaps and bounds. …


Hey, who wants an emotional one?

Here it comes.

Years ago, my therapist asked me to write this letter, fold it up, and burn it. I never did. The other day, it came streaming out unprovoked…

My unsent letter to the dude that caused most of my family’s Trauma, dear ole dad.

Dear dad,

I was supposed to write you this letter two years ago. And I thought about it so many times before that. But I’ve never been able to find the words — not normally my MF MO.

For twenty years, I’ve dealt with the fact that you…

Traumatized Motherfuckers

Complex Trauma Recovery requires Soldiers, not Victims. You aren’t damaged, doomed, or dead yet. But you might be a real Traumatized MF. www.t-mfrs.com

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