The sad thing is, life doesn't work like that. When I got out of the traumatic situation, I decided not to deal with any of it. I'm out now, what's the point of going on about it? I'm moving on with my life.

And for a while it worked. The world will give you tasks to fill every waking moment with if you seek them. Extra tasks, overtime hours, everything the external reality rewards you with - praise and a momentary relief. 

Looking back now, something had to give in eventually. There's only so long your body can take being in a constant state of hypervigilance. In the end I lost all the success I had nearly extinguished myself pursuing. 

If anyone reading is worried about seeking professional help, I'd say: you might as well try. Addressing trauma is terrifying but the possibility of things improving, however distant, is already better than swimming against the current alone.

One thing the C-PTSD narrative lacks is hope. The struggle deserves to be heard, but what's beyond gets less airtime. During my recovery, I didn't know of anyone who made it to the other side. All I could do was hope: take the medications, attend the counselling, listen to the advice and reassurance when I didn't have the strength to believe myself.

What happened to me is an understandable physical reaction to events a human brain can struggle to process. The needle may be a hindrance, but its only intention is to keep me safe. I can understand why it’s there, be mindful of it and grateful for its diligence.