Samanthalulu
New Here
Hi everyone, I’m Samantha.
I grew up with my grandparents. My grandfather was often away for work, so my grandmother carried the family on her own — strong, decisive, and often harsh. Her way of handling things made me hide my own feelings; whenever I tried to express myself, I was met with criticism or even attack. Over time, I learned silence. From my mother’s side, I inherited an emotional nature: sensitive, thoughtful, easily moved, and deeply empathetic. Together, these pieces created a difficult mix.
At school, I went through long stretches of bullying and isolation. I never felt able to speak about it — not to teachers, not even at home. Outwardly, my family was fine, but inwardly, I endured in silence. Later, in the workplace, I noticed the same patterns repeating: difficulty forming stable, healthy relationships; being overwhelmed by conflict or criticism; and carrying a constant sense of not belonging. Even in jobs with good pay, my body and mind stayed on edge. I would take deep breaths before stepping into the office, tense up when my name was called, and feel my heart race at after-hours work messages. A massage therapist once told me my back muscles were so rigid that the fascia had started to “stick.”
For years, I wondered if everyone felt this way. After being misdiagnosed with ADHD, depression, and anxiety, I finally discovered what it really was: CPTSD. And strangely, that diagnosis brought relief. I wasn’t collapsing or “broken” — I was carrying an invisible wound that finally had a name.
Now, I’m reading, exercising, keeping a simple meditation practice, and slowly building new habits. I’m also searching for a therapist who feels like the right fit. Step by step, I’m learning that healing is possible — and I’m truly glad to share this journey with all of you here.
I grew up with my grandparents. My grandfather was often away for work, so my grandmother carried the family on her own — strong, decisive, and often harsh. Her way of handling things made me hide my own feelings; whenever I tried to express myself, I was met with criticism or even attack. Over time, I learned silence. From my mother’s side, I inherited an emotional nature: sensitive, thoughtful, easily moved, and deeply empathetic. Together, these pieces created a difficult mix.
At school, I went through long stretches of bullying and isolation. I never felt able to speak about it — not to teachers, not even at home. Outwardly, my family was fine, but inwardly, I endured in silence. Later, in the workplace, I noticed the same patterns repeating: difficulty forming stable, healthy relationships; being overwhelmed by conflict or criticism; and carrying a constant sense of not belonging. Even in jobs with good pay, my body and mind stayed on edge. I would take deep breaths before stepping into the office, tense up when my name was called, and feel my heart race at after-hours work messages. A massage therapist once told me my back muscles were so rigid that the fascia had started to “stick.”
For years, I wondered if everyone felt this way. After being misdiagnosed with ADHD, depression, and anxiety, I finally discovered what it really was: CPTSD. And strangely, that diagnosis brought relief. I wasn’t collapsing or “broken” — I was carrying an invisible wound that finally had a name.
Now, I’m reading, exercising, keeping a simple meditation practice, and slowly building new habits. I’m also searching for a therapist who feels like the right fit. Step by step, I’m learning that healing is possible — and I’m truly glad to share this journey with all of you here.
