Now that I am 32 and almost 33 I look back on the time of my life in my mid-twenties when my symptoms peaked and were at their worst. After I left a hostile environment, I was still a mess and could not be on my feet alone. I hated everyone because I was very focused on the abuse, cruelty, and pain that they caused. It was a nightmare and ptsd is practically impossible to control. BUT, I did not appreciate the good people who I encountered afterwards, enough... I mean I had a second chance at life and I blew it because I was sick but also because I was a big baby. And ... I am full of regret. It's so hard to not hate these people (in my case at least). But it's useless to give them any benefit of the doubt. Can anyone relate? I feel so much loss and I am lonely. I think I missed my chance with the one person who may of loved me. Now what? Another complex?