Trauma and PTSD Therapy - Andrey Laugman

Trauma and PTSD Therapy - Andrey Laugman Andrey Laugman: Over 15 years of supporting people, now dedicated to mental health.

Experienced in providing compassionate guidance, helping individuals overcome challenges and find balance. Passionate about offering mental health support for a happier, healthier life.

Caught in your own mind: why you're exhausted, not busyMost people in the world are not busy – they are simply consumed ...
12/07/2025

Caught in your own mind: why you're exhausted, not busy

Most people in the world are not busy – they are simply consumed by their thoughts. This seemingly simple aphorism takes on a particular depth in the context of psychotrauma and PTSD. I often see clients who, instead of living in the present, find themselves captive to an unending internal dialogue that is exhausting but yields no benefit. This is not productive busyness but, in essence, chronic mental rumination.

For a person with trauma, this "absorption by thoughts" often manifests as intrusive memories, the endless replaying of traumatic scenarios, or the anxious anticipation of future threats. Their brain isn't "working"; it's "stuck" in an attempt to process and make sense of what has remained unintegrated. This mental churn, this constant internal noise, consumes a colossal amount of energy, leaving little room for real life, for creativity, for relationships. It is not productivity, but a form of painful fixation.

It is precisely because of this "absorption" that people often feel constantly tired, even if they haven't physically exerted themselves. Their nervous system is in a state of perpetual internal activity. The way out of this state lies not in trying to "busy" oneself even more, but in learning to break free from this obsessive mental reprocessing, allowing the brain and body to finally exit the "stuck mode" and switch to the present. This opens the way to genuine, vibrant activity that brings meaning, not exhaustion.

07/07/2025

I often observe how people, locked within their trauma, unconsciously deprive themselves of whole swathes of life. It isn't just discomfort; it's a feeling that the world is shrinking, turning into an ever-smaller cage. We refuse new experiences because they seem too risky, too unpredictable. We postpone travel, fear new acquaintances, and avoid opportunities for career progression – all because a voice of "old pain" inside is whispering of danger or our own inadequacy.

Imagine how much joy remains unlived, how many hugs are not given, how many inspiring moments are missed. We close ourselves off from spontaneous joy, from deep, genuine relationships, from the feeling of a full existence. Chronic anxiety and hypervigilance make it impossible to relax and enjoy the present moment. A world that could be full of wonder becomes merely a series of potential threats, and we live missing out on its beauty and its possibilities.

It is difficult to admit, but the very fear of pain that once served as a defence is now what limits you. Emerging from trauma is not just about getting rid of suffering; it is about returning to the life that is waiting for you to live it. It is about opening yourself up to new experiences, to sincere feelings, to the freedom of being yourself.

What if a world full of opportunities and real joy is waiting for you beyond the walls that once seemed your only protection?

05/07/2025

Why Traditional Approaches Do Not Always Resolve PTSD: A Perspective Through the Lens of Mental Engineering and Residual Symptoms.

In our work with psychotrauma and PTSD, we as specialists often encounter a reality that is sometimes downplayed: traditional approaches, such as CBT and EMDR, do not always lead to complete recovery. Meta-analyses show that a significant proportion of patients – up to 46-54% – retain clinically significant residual symptoms even a year after completing a course of treatment. This does not diminish the value of these therapies, but it does compel us to ask: why does this happen?

My own experience and research data lead to the understanding that these persistent difficulties are often linked to the fact that traumatic memories remain fragmented and unintegrated, particularly their implicit sensory components. The psyche, in an attempt to protect itself, "archives" the pain at a pre-reflexive level, using personal metaphors that do not always yield to direct verbalisation or cognitive restructuring. Standard methods may extinguish fear but do not always alter the engrammatic trace itself – that is, the deep record of the trauma in memory.

It is precisely here that the prospect of new approaches, such as Mental Engineering, emerges. We do not simply work on helping the client to "cope" with symptoms; we purposefully target the deep symbolic architecture of the traumatic experience. The method allows for the identification and transformation of the personal metaphors in which the trauma is "packaged" – whether it be a "stone cage in the chest" or a "perpetual battlefield". Changing these metaphors initiates the reconsolidation of traumatic memory, allowing it to be integrated into the autobiographical narrative without affective overload.

Preliminary data indicate that such an approach leads to a rapid and marked reduction in PTSD symptomatology and an improvement in emotional regulation. This is not about 'fighting the smoke', but about working with the fire itself, making it possible not just to reduce, but to eliminate the symptoms.

What if the key to true and sustainable healing lies not in learning to live with residual symptoms, but in transforming the very root of the trauma at its symbolic level?

04/07/2025

In my practice, I often see a paradox that seems illogical at first glance: a person who has experienced trauma can become "stuck" in it, even when it causes unbearable suffering. This isn't because they want the pain; it's because the trauma becomes terribly, yet predictably, familiar. To leave this state means stepping into the complete unknown, and this fear of the unfamiliar can be stronger than the accustomed, albeit agonising, pain.

In its attempt to protect itself, the psyche builds an entire system of beliefs and habits around the trauma. It is like an old but sturdy prison: it offers no freedom, but it does provide "predictability". The suffering becomes part of one's identity, a familiar backdrop to life. And when an opportunity for release appears, a profound fear of the void arises: "Who am I without this pain? What will happen if it's gone?" At times, the very struggle with the trauma, the attempt to "survive," becomes the thing that provides a sense of purpose. To let go of that is to lose the "former self".

This is not a sign of weakness or an unwillingness to heal. It is a complex, deeply ingrained resistance to change, even for the better, because the new always carries an element of uncertainty. And who could understand this fear better than someone who has been through it themselves?

What if the pain is not a curse, but simply a long-familiar, yet now unnecessary, part of you that can be released?

Do you feel fundamentally broken, impacting your career and potential, despite trying everything? For those who’ve sough...
02/07/2025

Do you feel fundamentally broken, impacting your career and potential, despite trying everything? For those who’ve sought help before, only to find that core feeling persists, your exhaustion is truly understood.

You might try affirmations or therapy, consciously controlling reactions. Yet, that sense of being fractured, of not being whole, remains, stifling professional growth.

The truth is, this isn't just a mindset. It's a primal message from a nervous system stuck in survival mode. Trauma is "archived" in your body, subconscious patterns, and fragmented memories. This "old pain" dictates reactions, constantly exhausting you.

Fighting symptoms won't mend what's broken at the core. You can't just "talk your way out" of this deep imprint. The approach must be a focused transformation at a fundamental level – addressing

how your body, brain, and consciousness continue to react to past events. This work directly engages this root, without endless re-hashing.

Imagine feeling genuinely whole again, with true self-worth and newfound confidence. Profound shifts are possible, even after just a few sessions. If you're ready to let go of that crushing feeling and live fully, this transformation is within reach.

Do you know that feeling when your body is constantly tense and your mind is relentlessly waiting for disaster? It's an ...
23/06/2025

Do you know that feeling when your body is constantly tense and your mind is relentlessly waiting for disaster? It's an exhausting, chronic anxiety that seems to drain all your energy, never giving you a moment's peace. It’s as if an invisible string is pulled taut to its breaking point, ready to snap at the slightest sound.

Perhaps you've tried everything: deep breathing, affirmations, hundreds of self-help books. You might have even learned to avoid certain places or situations in an attempt to control the anxiety. But for some reason, it doesn't bring complete relief. The anxiety always returns, sometimes even stronger, leaving you with a sense of powerlessness.

The fact is, this anxiety isn't just in your thoughts. It is deeply embedded in the subconscious patterns and unintegrated memories of your nervous system. It's there that the body has "remembered" a threat and continues to react to the world as if danger is always present. This is the "old pain" that sits deep inside, burning through your resources and creating a constant feeling of being "on the edge".

That is precisely why it's futile to try and "talk away" or "forget" this anxiety. It needs to be transformed at a fundamental level. My work focuses on exactly this: I help your nervous system to recalibrate, to safely integrate past experiences so that this state of "high alert" can finally subside. This is far more effective than it might seem because we are working with the very root of the problem, not just its symptoms.

Imagine: you can sleep peacefully again, feel confident about the future, build deep, genuine relationships, and simply breathe freely, without that constant weight on your chest. What if this path to freedom from anxiety, to a full life, is open to you too?

In my work with psychological trauma and PTSD, I regularly encounter the phenomenon known in psychology as the Pygmalion...
17/06/2025

In my work with psychological trauma and PTSD, I regularly encounter the phenomenon known in psychology as the Pygmalion Effect. Simply put, it refers to the influence that others’ expectations—especially strong and sincere ones—can have on actual outcomes. If someone is expected to succeed, they are more inclined to succeed; if they are expected to fail, they often do.

In the context of trauma, this takes on an especially painful dimension. After enduring something horrific, individuals frequently face a variety of expectations—from others and from themselves. If the world begins to perceive them solely as a “victim,” “broken,” or “someone who will never recover,” these powerful, albeit unconscious, expectations can become a heavy burden. They can subtly but persistently steer the person towards fulfilling that bleak prognosis, entrenching PTSD symptoms and obstructing any escape from suffering. It becomes a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy in which low expectations—or even well-meaning pity, perceived as low expectations—keep the individual trapped in a state of illness.
Moreover, the client themselves, having internalised the trauma, may come to expect only the worst from themselves: that they will fail, that further breakdowns lie ahead, that they are doomed to perpetual pain. This is an inner Pygmalion, whispering hopelessness and paralysing the will to heal.

Yet within this lies tremendous potential. If we—as practitioners—and, more importantly, the individual, truly begin to believe in their capacity for recovery, in their latent strengths and resilience, an entirely different dynamic emerges. This is the Pygmalion that liberates rather than confines, becoming a powerful catalyst for change. After all, if our expectations can so profoundly shape our lives, imagine what might happen when we dare to expect healing rather than pain.

Let's talk about sleep. Or, more accurately, the lack of it when it comes to psychological trauma and PTSD. When people ...
15/06/2025

Let's talk about sleep.

Or, more accurately, the lack of it when it comes to psychological trauma and PTSD. When people come to me and say, "I just can't sleep, or when I do, it's nothing but nightmares, like I'm reliving it all every single night," I understand they're describing something far more profound than just tiredness. It's your brain and body trying, but failing, to switch off from the "old pain".

To put it simply, the mechanism works like this: after a trauma, our nervous system gets stuck in "survival mode". Imagine being constantly on high alert, even when you lie down in bed. This chronic activation prevents the brain from entering the phases of deep, restorative sleep. Instead, it gets "stuck" in the lighter stages, particularly in REM sleep (the phase where we dream). And that's precisely when all the unprocessed "old pain" comes to the surface. The brain tries to "digest" the traumatic memories that weren't integrated during the day, and it does so in the form of nightmares, flashbacks, and waking up in a cold sweat.

These aren't just unpleasant dreams. This is your internal system desperately trying to make sense of what happened, but doing so ineffectively, re-experiencing the trauma over and over again, and draining you even further. It creates a vicious cycle: no proper sleep because of the trauma, and the lack of sleep intensifies the traumatic reactions. It's exhausting, it saps your strength, and it makes every day a difficult ordeal. The individual finds themselves in a trap where their own body and mind, in an attempt to protect them, are actually keeping them in a state of constant suffering.

Have you ever considered what this "digestion" of memory really means for your nervous system? And what it would be like if this process could finally become effective, allowing you to sleep peacefully?

12/06/2025

When we talk about PTSD, flashbacks or nightmares often come to mind. But there's another side to it that is just as draining: states of emotional overload, a kind of pendulum swing from complete emotional numbness to sudden, uncontrollable outbursts. It is utterly exhausting.

You see, after a trauma, the mind, in an attempt to protect itself from unbearable pain, often chooses the path of suppression. It seems logical: if you don't feel, it won't hurt. A person learns to "shut down" their emotions, especially those linked to fear, anger, and grief. It’s like pressing a pause button to keep from going mad. The trouble is, these emotions don't disappear. They accumulate inside, creating immense internal pressure, like steam in a sealed boiler. The nervous system remains in a state of high alert; it just becomes invisible.

And inevitably, this build-up of "steam" seeks a release. The smallest trigger, a minor situation that another person wouldn't even notice, can be the final straw. And that’s when the "eruption" happens – it could be a flash of rage, a fit of uncontrollable crying, or the terrifying feeling that you're losing control of yourself. These outbursts frighten the person experiencing them and can push loved ones away, compounding feelings of guilt and isolation. It's a vicious cycle: you suppress to survive, and then you erupt from the unbearable pressure that the suppression itself created.

But I know for certain: this cycle can be broken. Your mind isn't broken; it's simply trying to protect you using old, now ineffective, methods. My work isn't about teaching you to suppress your feelings even more effectively. It is to help you safely find your own optimal state, one where you are in charge of yourself and your emotions, without suppression and without the need for years or months of therapy. This approach restores not just your sense of control but also your inner peace, allowing you to live without the fear of the next "eruption".

09/06/2025

Psychological trauma leaves profound imprints on both mind and body, but it need not define the rest of your life. Each morning that you awaken and take a step towards your recovery is a testament to your strength and courage. Remember: PTSD symptoms are not signs of weakness, but rather the body’s responses to what you have endured. Clinical experience demonstrates that targeted work with memory and emotions, supported by the meticulous guidance of a clinical psychologist, can yield lasting change.

Your journey to healing can begin with a small act: a call to a specialist, a moment of self-care, an honest acknowledgement of your pain. From that single step upwards, towards a life lived to its fullest, everything begins. You deserve freedom from suffering, the ability to breathe easily once more and to plan for the future. Trust in the process, listen to yourself, and know that real transformation is possible with professional support and your own determination.

08/06/2025

Dissociation, particularly in the context of psychological trauma and PTSD, is one of the most complex—and paradoxically—adaptively protective mechanisms of the psyche. It’s a state in which the trauma survivor partially or completely disconnects from their feelings, thoughts, memories or even the sensation of their own body. This is not a conscious choice but an automatic nervous-system response to intolerable pain or threat—a kind of emergency “off” switch to prevent a complete breakdown under pressure.

The dissociative mechanism involves a fragmentation of the normal integration of consciousness, memory, identity, emotion, perception and motor function. At the moment of the traumatic event, the brain may “detach” awareness from what is happening or from bodily sensations of pain, creating the impression that it’s occurring “to someone else” or “as if in a film.” Later, this pattern can be triggered by any reminder of the trauma, producing a sense of unreality, a loss of connection with one’s body or emotions, as though parts of the self are living a separate existence.

Although originally protective, this dissociation eventually becomes a serious barrier to a fully lived life. It prevents the integration of the traumatic experience, denies the individual the sense of being “whole,” and impedes the formation of deep relationships and the recognition of genuine emotions. Living in such a state can feel like perpetual existence “behind a pane of glass” or “outside one’s own body.”

However, despite the seeming invulnerability of this defence, there is a path to healing. Dissociation is not a life sentence but a learned mechanism that can be understood and modified. For those ready to relinquish a victim mindset and take responsibility for their own transformation—who strive to emerge from this “switched-off” state and embrace life in its fullness—the road to restoring wholeness and releasing this pain is open. Where there is resolve for change, there is also the possibility of genuine recovery.

07/06/2025

“Why go on at all? Is there even any point to this struggle?” This question—one of the heaviest and most piercing I hear in my practice—carries not just exhaustion, but utter spiritual depletion, a sense that life has been stripped of all meaning and further effort is futile. Those who ask it often stand at a breaking point, where every inner resource seems completely drained.

The dynamic here is this: psychological trauma activates deep defence mechanisms, forcing the nervous system into a state of chronic high alert. The relentless hypervigilance, draining flashbacks, emotional numbness, and avoidance—all demand colossal energy. The psyche, struggling to cope with ceaseless internal threat, redirects all its resources toward survival. Over time, this leads to systemic burnout, where the brain’s basic functions—those responsible for planning, motivation, and perceiving a future—begin to falter.

In this state, the ability to see beyond the present vanishes. Connection to a past that might inspire, or a future that might beckon, slips away. Each day becomes an act of endurance devoid of visible purpose or reward. The loss of life’s meaning ceases to be philosophical—it’s a direct consequence of this total exhaustion. This isn’t a failure of willpower, but the deepest proof of how trauma can unravel the very fabric of being, leaving only bitterness and hopelessness in its wake.

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