I have lived with complex PTSD for four years now, and while it has irrevocably changed the course of my life, the woman I am, PTSD has also been my greatest super power.

I found the first couple of years after its onset completely alienating and dehumanizing.

Most of the resources I could find at the start of my PTSD journey spoke to the personal struggles, the social nightmares, and the hypersensitivity to the world around us, but very few offered hope that PTSD is a livable long-term condition.

Those first few years were hard. All I could see were the problems my PTSD created for me: an upended family dynamic, the loss of most of my friends, the difficulty to manage even the simplest of tasks, and the inability to engage in the dating world when those of my peer group struggled to understand how deeply trauma affects a person.

But as I sit here now, four years into a diagnosis that seemed life-ending, I realize that PTSD has gifted me in ways that changed my life for the better.

Once I leaned in to the monster, caressed her midnight fur, marveled at her sword sharp fangs, and gazed into the onyx depths of her eyes,  I discovered her true purpose: my monster exists not to scare me into submission, but to raise me to heights the untouched version of my self would never reach.

She is my greatest protector, the one who sees and feels more deeply than I would have ever allowed myself. She is the reason I no longer fear myself.

I have compiled the following list for fellow PTSD survivors in hopes that you will find comfort in knowing that you are not alone, that you are so much more powerful than you think, and that your monster, the one sitting next to you right now, does not have to be your enemy.

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1.) When you are aware of all that could go wrong, you have simply begun the process of problem solving earlier.

I still struggle with this one. My mind is hardwired to find flaws, problems, dangers. My PTSD remains to this day, an effective, albeit VERY obnoxious alarm system that alerts my body to impending trouble.

Over time I’m learning how to better respond when the alarm bells sound. When a problem presents itself I still find that I instinctively think of all of the ways in which the problem will consume me and stop me from progressing; but now there is a second step to that alarm process.

Step 2 comes in the form of solution-finding. If I take a moment to label the emotive flashbacks and respect my body’s need to feel, I discovered that my brain is capable of coming up with just as many solutions as it can obstacles.

Through validation of my feelings and fears, I am able to surpass the seemingly insurmountable roadblocks they present because I realize they are just that: barriers on a path that continues on, and has a variety of different routes to walk, some of which easily traverse over, under, around, or through the current problem.

Your hyper-awareness makes you the first one to notice when something isn’t right, and with time you can learn that no fear can upend your life as drastically as the thing that traumatized you.

2.) You can more easily identify the right people for you.

When PTSD arrives and wrecks havoc on your life it’s easy to see all things you lack, especially in the social department.

The moment my monster walked through the door, many of my friends (and some of my family) were unable to deal, and stopped supporting me.

Initially I was deeply hurt; I couldn’t understand how those who loved me could just decide one day that the relationship was too much. But after they left and my social circles shifted, I discovered that I had better radar to determine fraternal compatibility.

With the start of each new friendship, and the occasional romantic relationship, I discovered that my ability to read a person had improved. 

I‘ve honed this skill with practice over time, and with a handful of misread people along the way; it’s important to note that the shift in my perceptions was a slow-changing one, and that this process differs for everyone.

I now find myself able to determine if a person belongs in my life within the first interaction I spend with them. I ask myself: 

Can they handle truthful speech, even if it’s not pretty or socially understood?

Can they talk about emotions as a good experience, even if the thing being felt is “bad”?

Can they respond with empathy, instead of judgement when presented narratives alternate to their own?

Let’s get one thing straight: not all of my new friends agree with me on every single topic, but that doesn’t mean they can’t provide important connection. I am no longer looking for people like me, or for people to like me. I am looking for people who can see their self and mine as strands in the same web of life.

You are worthy of deep human connection, and your PTSD does NOT make you incapable of creating such connection.

3.) You feel EVERYTHING, which in turn makes you a better human.

Okay maybe that’s a stretch, but feeling everything can turn you into a more empathetic and understanding human!

One of my biggest hurdles when I first discovered I live with PTSD was all of the feeling that accompanied it. I was taught to deny my feelings in childhood, and as a naturally empathic person, those lessons created deep mars in my emotional heart.

The feelings that exploded forth in the first years of sitting with my monster were world-stopping. One little thing could trigger years of suppressed emotions with no explanation or indicator as to their origin.

These powerful memories of feeling knocked me out at first, made it seem impossible to connect with “emotionally stable” people, and created a rift between my experience of life and what I thought was the norm.

Only when I began to lean in to those feelings and gave myself permission to take a moment to cry, or scream, or hide, did I realize that they are exactly the thing that make me human.

And more importantly, that there is no emotional norm to aim for.

My emotional epiphany allowed me to see my feelings shared in varying degrees by those around me in their own lives.

I became innately aware of how emotionally difficult the human experience can be, even for those who don’t intimately know trauma, and I began to respond to others’ feelings with the understanding that for that person, they held the same gravity as mine held over me.

Now I can more empathetically respond to others. I can see the moment when a task becomes an emotional chore for someone, and I can better help them identify, address, and process through that emotion.

And the sweetest of all? My willingness to live through my emotional self and allow it to inform my logical self, provides a real-life example of healthy emotional processing for those in my life.

Your lower threshold for emotional expression and mental frustration allow you to deeply embody what it means to be a living, breathing, feeling human.

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I am a firm believer in the uniqueness of the human experience, and by no means is this article a promise that you will discover every one of these super powers within yourself after reading.

These words aren’t meant to encourage you to tackle the beast on your own; various forms of therapy can be increbily beneficial to healing (as they have been for me) in partnership with a devotion to constant self-reflection.

However, I do hope my words can provide solace for those who feel utterly alienated from society because of their ever-present PTSD monster; and I hope that in reading this article, you feel my monster sit down next to yours, nuzzle into it with a certain species familiarity, and allow you to realize you are not alone. Because you are not.

You – my dear living, breathing, feeling human – are not alone. Let my words hold your hand as you walk this path to a SUPERlative you.

I am with you.