A month ago, I was rediagnosed with C-PTSD (Complex PTSD) at the age of 27. I say (and made up) the word rediagnosed because I was originally diagnosed with C-PTSD when I was 21 years old. As most of the important things I was told when I was 21, the diagnosis seemed to evaporate in my realm of consciousness quicker than the first flake of snow that falls on pavement. I saw my C-PTSD as a light switch that I could turn on and off. I felt I had control over it, something that I could even grow out of, and therefore, must only ‘slightly’ have.

Reality was that this illness was not something I could simply grow out of; this illness fit me like a glove since the first day I was exposed to my trauma. It fuels me. It shapes me. It hijacked my personality, desires, and intuitions…