This Mindset Strengthens You to Overcome Childhood Trauma

I have a kind of secret window that lets me observe how childhood wounds shape people’s lives, the recurring patterns those wounds create, and which individuals eventually move past childhood PTSD versus those who remain trapped by it. That window is my YouTube channel: each morning I read the comments people leave. If you ever scroll through comment sections you’ll notice two distinct types. One is made up of people who are deeply entangled in their early trauma; the other consists of those who are actively doing the work to recover. The first group is very common and it’s often how many viewers first find this space. A lot of us were raised to rehearse the past—to catalogue who hurt us, what they did, how the family functioned, and how those moments felt. Absolutely, those stories need to be told at some point as part of healing. But telling the story of what others did only goes so far. For me, rehashing the past helped explain why I developed complex PTSD and why I struggle, yet it didn’t heal me on its own. Real change happens when you can move attention away from the past and away from other people, and instead turn toward your current symptoms—your thoughts, behaviors, and emotions—because that’s where healing can actually occur: here and now. Even though this is a message I repeat often—limit how much you relive the past; focus more on yourself and on practical steps you can take in the present to calm trauma symptoms—I still receive many comments and emails from folks who are stuck in that past-focused mindset. When someone has circled that route for a long time, they often end up embedded in a discouraging belief system, in a lot of pain, and without hope. If you’re in that place and haven’t yet joined one of my courses, a coaching group, or a Zoom call, here’s a clear way out: move from the stuck group into the group that’s healing. The people who get unstuck do it by acting—they change their lives. Most people want that but don’t know how, so here’s how I recovered from childhood PTSD and how I guide others to do the same. My approach draws on my own experience, on mentors who taught me, and on working with thousands of people who came here after childhood neglect and abuse. It’s been a privilege to witness many people have profound breakthroughs—sometimes very quickly—and to also see others remain miserable, disconnected, and caught in loops of dysregulation and self-defeating behaviors despite wanting change. Over the years, watching both groups taught me what the recoverers do differently and what keeps others stuck. If you’re suffering and not making the progress you want, pay attention: these are the habits, actions, and mindsets that lead to healing. You deserve that turnaround—functional living and deep happiness are possible—and it feels amazing when it starts to happen. I’ve noticed two basic self-concepts among people. The first characterizes those who are actively trying to understand and change trauma-driven thoughts and behaviors. They’re solution-oriented and willing to experiment. They try approaches—some work, some don’t—but they’re engaged in the process, noticing what lifts them and what falls short. When they comment, they often share concise takeaways: “This technique helped, that book was so-so,” or “This approach was a disaster but that other strategy was life-changing.” You can see clear signs of healing in these people: they track the changes they can make, they notice whether they relate more easily to others, feel calmer alone or in groups, and whether their talents and gifts begin to re-emerge. They pay attention to which parts of their recovery are fostering that growth. They report hope, and many of them invest energy in encouraging others—a very advanced marker of healing. People in this active group subscribe and say the channel feels practical, experience-based, and relatable; they don’t feel so alone anymore. That shared experience is powerful. Those who are having breakthroughs get excited to try new tools and ideas; they want action steps and inspiration, and when something doesn’t help, they don’t stop—they keep experimenting. I’m very fond of this group, and I also care about the second group, because they can learn a lot from the first. If the image of what healed people look like feels foreign, listen and try not to let shame close you off. The second group—the stuck ones—are people for whom a breakthrough hasn’t happened yet. They’re kind, often well-informed about treatments, and have worked hard, but healing hasn’t arrived. That leaves them discouraged, helpless, and sometimes cynical. Their comments often reveal that they’ve stopped believing change is possible for them, and that belief is poisonous. You can feel the bitterness in comments like “people suck” or “I’m too old now” or “you don’t understand what it’s like.” They’re quick to analyze what’s wrong in others—family, exes, society, those who promised to help but didn’t—and they can tell you in vivid detail how they’ve been hurt. That pain is real, but what’s also clear about this stuck group is that they have little or no sense of who they could be without the emotional pain. The hurt becomes their identity; they can’t picture a future in which they’re different. They can’t imagine what a normal day would feel like if they weren’t trapped by symptoms. That’s what being stuck looks like. Getting caught in pain and isolation is part of being traumatized—it happens to everyone at times—but to escape it you must “break the wheel.” By the wheel I mean the churning loop of negative thoughts and emotions that spins endlessly: blame, obsession over those who hurt you, rumination about failures and rejection, and the stories you repeat about why you are the way you are. Those stories may contain true elements, but if the wheel never stops spinning it gains force like a centrifuge, flinging away anything that comes near—relationships, opportunities, financial stability, joy. The wheel seduces you while simultaneously stealing everything you want. You can’t reason or gently slow it down; you have to jam something big and decisive into the mechanism and shatter it. Picture thrusting a metaphorical stick into the spokes—the wheel dissolves. Don’t worry: it’s a metaphor; the wheel vanishes without spraying shards into your face. Breaking it is like waking from a nightmare. You might have believed the wheel protected you, but in truth it kept you trapped in pain and helplessness. You are not helpless. There is a wide world of experience beyond that cycle, and sometimes all it takes to begin is a little breathing room—enough to let a new, present-moment experience of yourself emerge. Healing requires shifting focus off the past and other people and onto what you can do to calm your own nervous system now. Small, practical steps can open the door to real change by altering your mental state. You don’t need the sun to break through; sometimes a single ray of hope will do. To feel hope you must be able to imagine something better. Allow a little belief that healing is possible regardless of whether other people change, whether circumstances shift, or whether past efforts worked. A crucial indicator that someone is moving in the right direction is recognizing their own agency—the ability to see what choices are available and what they can control. Even when complex PTSD presents you with hard options, there is always some choice. Despite current symptoms, you can move forward one step at a time toward the life you deserve. You can learn new responses to life’s inevitable stressors, because stress never stops—life will always throw challenges at you—but the way you regard the possibility of healing can change everything. Can you imagine an easier, better future? Are you willing to begin by changing how you speak to yourself about your trauma? If you insist you’re irreparably broken, you will disconnect from life and from people. Compassion exists in others, but when they sense that negative wheel spinning, it drives them away. So even as you long for connection, the very wheel you’re caught in pushes people back. That isolation is painful; the spinning wheel blinds you to your capabilities and to the good you could bring into the world. Your life is meaningful, but cynicism makes it hard to feel that. How do you start? Childhood PTSD makes even small steps feel huge, but you can begin with a single, simple practice: picture what it would be like if your PTSD reactions were less intense. Try this exercise. Imagine a stressful but realistic scenario—a mistake at work, a tense family visit, a friend who hurts your feelings. Remember how triggers have unfolded before: the wheel starts to spin, your heart races, you tighten up, you might lash out or go numb, and the part of you that always shows up when you’re activated threatens to wreck things. Now let that image settle, and then picture the same scene with your trauma-driven reactions reduced by roughly 50%. You still feel something, but the surge stops before you lose control. You can choose your words and expressions instead of being hijacked by them. Would that make a difference? Now imagine the same moment with only about 20% of your usual reactivity. You feel a small rise, but it stays contained. Could you communicate more effectively? Stay present and make wiser choices? Could relationships that used to explode now survive, even when something hurtful happens? If you could consistently handle stressors like that, would your life gradually shift—friendships improving, better-fitting people entering your life, more stability in relationships, career gains, improved health, a greater ability to share your gifts? If you followed this imagining through, you’ve just joined the first group—those who recover. The ability to picture a better future makes that future more likely. Begin by giving yourself permission to believe that change is possible. If you’re only ready for one small action right now, do this: stop rehearsing the worst story of your life. You break the wheel by connecting with a better vision of yourself and moving toward it. Change is possible, and it often starts with a tiny step. If you want reassurance that healing can and does occur, there’s a free PDF that outlines signs you’ll notice as trauma healing begins—many of those changes may have already started inside you, even if you don’t fully feel them yet. Download the free PDF to check how far you’ve come, and take that as a gentle reminder that progress is happening. See you very soon [Music]