The Fundamentals of Complex Trauma in Adults: My Journey​

The Fundamental of Complex Trauma in Adults: My Personal Journey Becoming a mother changes you in profound ways. But for me, it wasn’t the glowing transformation of joy that social media likes to portray. When I gave birth to my twins, I experienced what felt like a complete unravelling of everything I thought I knew about myself.  It wasn’t just the sleepless nights or the overwhelming responsibility of caring for two new lives. Rather, I felt as if every unresolved part of my past came rushing to the surface all at once. Every hurt, every defense mechanism, and every suppressed feeling began demanding my attention.  It was terrifying, disorienting, and left me spiralling into a 14-month depression—a depression I didn’t even recognize until I began clawing my way out of it. But my breaking point also became my turning point.  Through a lot of hard, messy work, I’ve come to understand that I wasn’t broken or defective. What I was experiencing was the aftermath of complex trauma, and I now know that it’s not only possible to heal from it, but that the process of healing can lead to a richer, more authentic life.  In this post, I want to share the fundamentals of complex trauma in adults—what it is, how it manifests, and why it’s so often overlooked. And for those in the thick of it, I want to reassure you that you’re not alone and that healing is absolutely possible. Let’s go! What is Complex Trauma? It wouldn’t be a “fundamentals of complex trauma in adults” if I didn’t try to give some sort of definition of complex trauma. Complex trauma isn’t about a single, catastrophic event.  Instead, it arises from prolonged exposure to emotionally or psychologically harmful environments, often during formative years. It’s rooted in relationships, particularly those where trust and safety should exist but don’t.  Unlike the “big T” Traumas, such as one-off natural disasters or violent assaults, complex trauma is cumulative and insidious, often involving neglect, emotional invalidation, or manipulation.  Here’s how I like to think about it:  Big T events are things that happen to you when they shouldn’t. Little T traumas often involve things that don’t happen when they should—like the absence of love, respect, attention, security, reliability, or safety.  Sometimes, complex trauma can be a combination of both big T and little T trauma. (Yikes!)   Over time, these repeated absences can have the same or even greater effects as big T trauma. This is because they are subtle, hard to detect, and often invalidated or overlooked by others. For many of us, it’s easy to downplay our experiences. My childhood, for instance, seemed perfectly adequate on the surface. I was well provided for materially, and from the outside, my family appeared stable.  But beneath that veneer were years of emotional neglect and dysfunction—parents who could be invalidating, neglectful, and emotionally absent. These experiences taught me to people-please, to fear confrontation, and to internalise a sense of unworthiness. I was super confused, for years, around why I just couldn’t get my sh*t together. Characteristics & Fundamentals of Complex Trauma in Adults Educating yourself about the characteristics of complex trauma is often the first step to healing.  Understanding how these traits may have developed as responses to certain elements in your formative years can help alleviate the confusion, self-blame, and anger you might feel.  My Complex Trauma Bible is Tim Fletcher’s “60 Characteristics of Complex Trauma“, which provides a comprehensive framework for understanding how it impacts adults. He has a series on YouTube as well. It’s changed my life! Here, I’ll highlight some key ways it showed up in my life and how it might manifest for others: 1. Emotional Dysregulation For years, I felt like my emotions controlled me rather than the other way around. Either that, or I’m completely shut down – robot style.  I’d swing between anxiety, sadness, and determination in a short period. Small frustrations, like a rude comment or an unexpected change in plans, could leave me spiralling for hours or days.  This emotional volatility is the one thing that bonds all of us complex trauma people together. We just don’t know how to regulate our emotions! How could we? We were never taught (but it’s not too late).  2. People-Pleasing and Fear of Conflict Growing up, there was only room for my father’s anger and demands in the house. So, I learned that avoiding conflict was safer than asserting my needs.  As an adult, this translated into people-pleasing behaviours: Saying “yes” when I wanted to say “no.” Changing my character, accent, and entire personality depending on the person. Bending over backwards to avoid upsetting others (which sometimes involved manipulation!).    The very thought of confrontation could leave me paralysed with fear. 3. Hypervigilance Are you an Empath/ Highly Sensitive Person? Well, you might have complex trauma! Complex trauma keeps you on high alert, constantly scanning for potential threats. It’s a body’s nervous system trying to figure out fight-flight-freeze-fawn responses. So, I’d replay conversations in my head, analysing every word for hidden meanings or signs of disapproval. And eventually, I became a “highly sensitive person” or “empath“.  Not someone who would cry at the drop of the hat (this was not allowed in my childhood home). But rather someone who could infer how a person felt from a simple look or micro-expression.  People admired this about me. “Wow, you’re so perceptive!” But damn, what a price to pay for being observant.  This hyper-awareness is exhausting and makes it very difficult to relax. 4. Sense of Inferiority No matter how many external achievements I racked up—from academic successes to professional milestones—I couldn’t shake the belief that I was fundamentally “less than.”  Whether I based it on my race and ethnicity, or my gender, or my nationality – you name it, I was feeling less than. Sure, there’s a component of social hierarchies, structural racism, and actual discrimination going on.  But because I didn’t have a strong enough sense of self, I

What It Feels Like To Be Black

What It Feels Like To Be Black Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be black? Well, it can be pretty “normal” (being code for “same as white”) for quite a chunk of the time. Racism isn’t always being thrown in your face.  But here’s the difference. You go through life with a heavy emotional lode that can be triggered by ‘mundane’ events.  For me, this baggage came into sharp focus one Friday — I call it Black Friday because I’m funny — when an ‘ordinary’ day unexpectedly turned into a repeated reminder of my place in the social hierarchy.  And no, this isn’t a post about me experiencing racism in Portugal. I haven’t. (Yet?). But it’s a reflection of what it feels like to be black and to go through life with certain sensitivities. Up for a little snapshot of the lived black (African) experience (in Europe)? Read on 🙂  **Disclaimer: There is not one lived black experience common to everyone. Experiences also vary depending on individual circumstances. There are many black folk experiencing better and worth mental health outcomes related to their blackness in the world. Black Friday: Bureaucracy, Government Officials, and a 3-Year-Olds Comment Fellow Africans who have left Africa: how painful was your visa/ residency experience? For me, it’s a personal paint point.  There is not one country that I have lived in that has not given me Kafkaesque bureaucratic trauma. Heck, even travelling can be a headache sometimes. Portugal, while being the best of my terrible experiences, was still not an exception. I had to sort out some bureaucratic issues with my residence visa, which had been mailed to an old address because there was no way to contact authorities to update my address.  What does this have to do with racism?  Surprisingly – a lot! The Dehumanisation of African Immigrants Yeah, the Portuguese immigration process is backed up like city traffic. I applied for my residency in January and received it in November. But it’s like that for most people. So, why did I take it personally? Because every travel and emigration process has been fraught with hoops and proofs. Most times I wanted to go abroad and have a good time, I’ve had to prove everything about my existence. (Most) white people just need their passports. And in Portugal, when we changed address, I was the one penalised.  But, it didn’t stop there.  The woman at the post office that day was cold, dismissive, and impatient. She didn’t seem to care at all that I was trying to resolve an important matter. It was a big, unspoken “not my problem.” Now, I’m not saying this woman was deliberately racist — after all, she wasn’t overtly hostile.  But the sharpness in her tone, the lack of empathy, and the way she barely looked at me all made me feel like an outsider. Like someone whose presence in the space was an inconvenience.  I’ve experienced this sort of behaviour before — the casual indifference that isn’t quite racist to be called out. But still feels like a brush-off because of your hierarchy in society.  The Little Girl at My Daughter’s Kindergarten Later that day, I went to pick up my daughters from kindergarten.  A classmate (3 years old) pointed at me and said, “Tens uma cara preta” — “You have a black face” — in Portuguese.  “Huh?” The comment wasn’t meant to be cruel, and the girl probably didn’t even understand the gravity of what she was saying. But still, it stung. Because in a way, the child’s words felt like an innocent, unfiltered reflection of how some people see me in the world.  As I stood there, trying to gather my thoughts, I was faced with the reality that being black is something others can’t help but notice — sometimes without thinking, sometimes with full awareness.  But no matter how well-meaning or innocent the comment might have been, it had a sharpness to it that struck deep of what it means to be a black woman in a predominantly white space.   The Psychological Baggage of Blackness At this point, I couldn’t help but reflect on my complex relationship with my blackness.  Growing up in South Africa, race was always on the table — not just in direct ways, but in the invisible rules that governed how we interacted.  It was in the way certain people looked at you, how certain spaces felt like they weren’t meant for you, and how you were constantly aware of your difference, whether others acknowledged it or not. And whether you grow up in a highly racialised society like South Africa or not, black people will know exactly what I’m talking about. Growing up black Growing up in South Africa, the simplest interactions could often be loaded with tension.  Whether it was the dismissive stares, the condescending attitudes, or the invisible walls that seemed to rise up around me in certain spaces, I learned early on that being black means constantly navigating microaggressions.  These subtle moments (which are tough to stand up against without looking unreasonable) accumulate over time. And that’s the baggage we carry around as black people.  And on my particular black Friday, I felt the weight of it all. What made that day so uniquely loaded for me wasn’t the action or words of the other people. It was the cumulative effect of a lifetime of experiences — from growing up in post-apartheid South Africa to navigating racial dynamics in Portugal.  How Small Moments Become Big Triggers What might seem like a minor inconvenience — such as dealing with bureaucratic nonsense or hearing an innocent comment — can light a black person’s fuse.  Why?  Because it taps into the historical, social, and psychological context of being black.  The day’s events weren’t inherently racist. I don’t believe they were. But it alerted me to my heavy emotional baggage.  It’s the weight of history, of having to perform emotional labour in spaces where you are constantly scrutinised. Where you are gaslighted

Are Hair Extensions Harmful? New Shocking Research

Are Hair Extensions Harmful? New Shocking Research Despite growing up in South Africa, where hair extensions are almost universally worn by black girls and women, I only really tried hair extensions well into adulthood. As someone with an Ethiopian family, it just wasn’t our zeitgeist.  But once the mood to experiment with colour and length without dyeing or cutting my hair struck me, there was only really one option.  So, I became part of the growing number of Black women who have embraced synthetic hair extensions. I loved how I looked with them. They gave me a break from the time-consuming upkeep of my natural hair and allowed me to switch up my style whenever I wanted.  But one day, as I was packing our things to move homes, I noticed a silky-haired wig at the back of my closet.  And a question occurred to me: “Are hair extensions harmful?” I wondered.  And then many more: “Does the weight of the extensions damage my roots? Do they hurt my scalp? Why are they so itchy sometimes?” Here are my findings from that Google rabbit hole… Are Hair Extensions Harmful to My Hair? Have you ever experienced that dull, persistent headache after getting a fresh install? The tight pulling at your scalp as your hair is braided, often tighter than necessary to “make it last”? It’s not just discomfort—it’s your body telling you something is wrong. Traction alopecia, a condition where hair is pulled from the root, is no joke. It’s common among women who wear their hair in tight styles like braids, weaves, or even buns for extended periods of time.  When hair is pulled repeatedly, especially with the added weight of synthetic extensions, it can lead to permanent hair loss. Most black women I know opt for the tightly pulled look because it lasts long (4-6 weeks) and is a whole lot neater than a looser braid.  Personally, I have a very low threshold for discomfort. I always did my extensions myself, and redid them when they felt a bit tight. But the trade-off is that mine didn’t last nearly as long.  But there are plenty of older black women with little patches of thinning hair at their temples and a receding hairline, likely from tightly pulling hairstyles.  So, it turns out that what we’ve called “protective styles” often leads to damaging our hair. Are Hair Extensions Harmful to My Health? Whether you had a tight braid or a looser variety, extensions make it hard to sleep. But it’s worse if it’s tight. I’m sure many of you can relate—tossing and turning with a tight, uncomfortable scalp, trying to find a way to rest without pulling on your hair. Even once the pain reduces, there is still the matter of trying to sleep with this massive volume of hair on the back of your head. Whether you tie a top knot or tie it downwards, it still affects how you can sleep, both by its positioning and the weight it carries. Discomfort, lack of sleep, and the stress of maintaining extensions add up. And there wasn’t an easy solution. Not wearing extensions (and all the maintenance that comes with that) caused me as much anxiety as wearing them did. But in the world of the black woman, it’s often a case of damned if you do, damned if you don’t. New Research: The Hidden Chemicals in Synthetic Hair Extensions (!!!) But I knew all that.  This is what made my chuck our all my extensions and wigs. New research has begun to reveal how synthetic hair extensions are often treated with chemicals that may be harmful to our health.  Recent studies have found that many of these extensions contain chemicals like  phthalates (a reproductive disrupter),  volatile organic compounds (VOCs) (damages the central nervous system),  acrylonitrile (skin and respiratory issues), and  vinyl chloride (carcinogen: linked to liver cancer).    These wonderful chemicals are found in most synthetic fibers like Kanekalon. and are often absorbed through the scalp, especially when heat is applied during styling, or when the extensions are worn for long periods. Moreover, synthetic extensions release extra VOCs during heat styling, potentially aggravating respiratory conditions like asthma, especially in black communities already vulnerable to health disparities.  These findings point to an urgent need for better consumer protection and more research on the long-term effects of synthetic hair extensions. The lack of regulation allows these toxins to continue being used despite their risks.  (We’ll come back to regulation and trusting the government on health matters later). Cultural Mistrust of Research: Why We Have to Do Our Own Homework As Black women, we’ve often been the last to benefit from scientific research, and sometimes, we’ve been unwilling participants. From the ‘doctor’, now named ‘the father of gynaecology’, who purchased black slave women to experiment on to Henrietta Lacks, whose cervical cancer cells was taken without consent by Johns Hopkins, there’s a long history of Black people, particularly Black women, being mistreated or entirely ignored by the research community. This historical exploitation leads many of us to mistrust medical professionals and researchers—and honestly, with good reason. When was the last time you saw a major beauty brand release information specifically about the long-term health effects of the products we use daily, especially those marketed to Black women? We’re left to do our own research, trying to decipher ingredient lists that are confusing at best and intentionally misleading at worst. It’s an added burden that falls disproportionately on us.  We’re responsible for keeping ourselves informed, asking the hard questions about what we’re putting on our heads—and by extension, what’s seeping into our bodies. That’s why I decided to stop using synthetic hair extensions altogether.  It was a hard choice.  Like many of you, I love the versatility, the ease, and the beauty of the styles I could achieve with extensions. But once I knew the risks, I couldn’t justify continuing.  For me, the potential damage to my health—and the health of my loved ones—just wasn’t worth it. The Pressure to Have “Good

10 Best Places to Travel as a Black Woman (2024)

*A post for black women* Girl, we all know the world isn’t always built for us.  As Black women, merely existing can feel like an obstacle course, let alone venturing out to explore a new place.  And with travel, there’s a whole extra layer of questions: is it safe? Will I be welcome? Will people want to touch my hair? On top of that, the usual worries about being a woman on the road come into play.  But guess what?  We deserve to experience the world too!  That’s why I’ve compiled a personal list of my 10 best places to travel as a black woman.  Whether you’re looking for tropical, cultural, or big city living, I’ve got you! So pack your bags, ladies – it’s time to see the world! Travel Destination Criteria I thought I’d start out with the set of rules I’ve used for picking the places I’ve chosen. So, here’s my criteria for what makes somewhere one of the best places to travel as a black woman:  1. Safety Duh! Safety is priority number one, of course.  We all deserve to feel secure while exploring new places.  So, you won’t find any war zones or places they do terrorism or kidnapping on this list. No places with excessive crime, either.  We face enough dangers because of our appearance, and we don’t usually have the best odds in hospital situations. So, on this list, we’ll stick to the safest places that even mom won’t worry about.  2. Racism (or Lack Thereof) This is a big travel criteria as a black woman.  Because who wants to fend of racism while on holiday, right?! And while every individual’s experience in these places might be different, I’ve gone with looking at the general racism I felt in these places. Because, while we can’t avoid it completely, some destinations are more welcoming than others.  3. I’ve Been There Personally So, while I am well-travelled, this criteria narrows down the list significantly.  But hear me out.  Anyone can do a hypothetical “best places to travel as a black woman” list. But I think there’s still something to be said for actually having lived experience in those places.  4. Cultural Awareness What is cultural awareness? And why is this different to racism? Sit down, I’m glad you asked.  A place with cultural awareness of black people is one where people are accustomed to seeing and catering to Black travellers.  One where they don’t gawk or try to touch your skin or hair.  Or ask weird questions like “Do you know Oprah? Beyonce? Or Rihanna?” – true story. (Unfortunately, no. We don’t run in the same circles.) So, while a place might not be considered “racist”, there may be a lot of unintentional cultural insensitivity that may be annoying to navigate on holiday. 5. Fun! Of course, no list is complete without considering the fun factor!  These destinations offer not just safety and respect, but also beauty, adventure (but not the warzone kind), and amazing experiences. Buckle up! Here are the best places to travel as a black woman (in no particular order):   1. Reunion Island, France Okay, the “France” part is slightly misleading.  Because this gorgeous island is actually located off the east coast of Africa, in the vicinity of Mauritius and Madagascar.  How it still belongs to France is a history lesson I won’t be giving.  But how amazing it is, I can tell you. (I lived there for about 7 months). From the natural offerings (tropical forests, oceans, volcanoes), to lovely restaurants, stunning beaches, and fun events throughout the year, Reunion is as close to paradise as it gets.  Also, its as modern as any big city with all the amenities you can ask for.  The population is super mixed so you’ll be able to find whatever you need (hair care, foundation shades, braids).  So, take your Duolingo French with you to Reunion Island and thank me later. 2. Lisbon, Portugal Full transparency: we live near Lisbon now.  But there’s a reason why we live here. Many, in fact. (I wrote a whole post about it). Lisbon has that European-city charm, great weather, fun, forever-partying people, and it’s also super accepting to people of all colours.  Because while my mixed-race family has had trouble integrating in Africa, we’ve had no issue here.  They also operate on “Mediterranean time”, which means you wake up at 10am, have a nap at 3pm, before partying the night away. It’s a veritable festa.   Lisbon has it all. If you’re looking for something more cultural, you can definitely check out the palaces in Sintra (30 mins north).  Or perhaps lounging around on a beach is more your style? Visit Costa da Caparica (30 mins south, pictured above).   3. Havanna, Cuba My heart is in Havanna, ooh na na… Cuba is multicultural. You can go there on any budget. (I went on the Broke Ass Student Plan). And, of course, the nightlife is amazing.  But it’s also super safe, very multicultural, and absolutely stunning! (Who knew communism could look so good?). On top of that, the rum was cheaper than water in some places, and Cuban cigars are pretty cheap.  So, you can fully indulge your vices under the guise of “cultural integration”.  4. Reykjavik, Iceland My friend, go to Iceland in the winter. I cannot promise you multicultural. (These statues were the closest I got to finding another brown person). I cannot even promise you sunshine and good weather.  But the cosiest Christmas atmosphere in the most ethereal place, you will find. Lovely bars, restaurants, and most importantly, people, too.  And the sun rises at 10am and sets at 4pm in December. So you can wake up late after partying for 12 hours.  (Check out their blue lagoon hot springs if you’re into something more chill.) 5. London, England Aaahh London.  My first time visiting was during a week of excellent weather in July.  The sun was shining. People were singing (for money) in the streets.  Those

8 Reasons Why You Should Move To Portugal (2024)

Sunshine, safety, and fun. Discover how Portugal’s affordability, friendly locals, and exciting activities for all ages made it our dream home and why you should move, too.