A little bit about me…

For some who live with Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD), the deep-seated, unseen wounds do eventually heal. For others, the damage never completely disappears, despite the best efforts and intentions of loved ones, family, and both traditional and not-so-traditional interventions. After many inconceivably long, hard, and bitter years of struggle, agonising trial and error, failure, and disappointment ... I finally came to comprehend that I needed to 'think outside the square' if I wanted to live, to survive and make the most of being alive.

I found a way through the perilous Post Traumatic Stress minefield by integrating alternative/complementary concepts and ideas into my recovery. What works, what might work, and what does not work? It was only when I came to truly understand why I was the way I was ... why I acted and reacted and behaved the way I did ... not because there was something fundamentally wrong with me, but because of what happened to me in my childhood and young adult years ... that I was able to 'begin' working towards the self-acceptance and self-love that would ultimately set me free.

My childhood was a horror show courtesy of a father with long-term, untreated CPTSD, and a few other mental health issues that were never addressed or processed. My father was the embodiment of 'old school' when it came to discipline. He was a professional soldier holding the rank of Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM) after many years of service. He was a big, hard, and powerful, emotionally fractured man. My father never knew who his mother was, and he was abandoned by his own father [who was a raging alcoholic] at around 11 or 12 years of age. My father escaped from a state-run orphanage and joined the South African army at 16 years of age, when World War II was in full swing. Before his 18th birthday, he had fought in both the African and European theatres of war. My father ran our household like it was a military barracks. He thought the best way to 'bring me up and make a man out of me' was to break me down through physical and emotional abuse. The physical abuse stopped sometime after my 16th Birthday because I was now bigger than him… but the emotional abuse never stopped. There is a saying, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me”. What absolute bullshit!

I was also groomed and sexually assaulted by an older male cousin between the ages of 9 and 12 years.

I left home to join the army before my 19th Birthday. On the outside, I was a big, tall, athletic, and confident-looking young man. On the inside, I was a terrified, lost little boy with severe impulse control and emotional regulation issues. I did not know who I was, what I was, where I began, or where I ended. I came across as confident and capable, but on the inside, I was scared of my own shadow. Somehow, I managed to attain the rank of full corporal in the role of what in today's military language is known as either an AT (Ammunition & Explosives Technician) or EOD Tech (Explosives Ordnance Disposal Technician). After my military service, I worked for a few years as a private security contractor protecting 'National Key Points' for an international organisation. During this period, some really bad stuff went down, and my perception of life, the world, and my place in it became so fragmented and distorted that by my 25th birthday, enjoying a normal, happy and stable life was something inconceivable to me … it was something that 'other people' enjoyed and experienced. I was terrified of the world I found myself in and consumed with fear, self-doubt, and suppressed rage. I trusted absolutely no one, and sadly, the most destructive part of my trust issues was that I did not trust myself. I did not believe in myself, hell, I didn't even like myself, not one little bit! I decided the safest course of action would be to remove myself from mainstream society and escape into the African bush to pursue a career as a wildlife conservation ranger, professional hunter, and field guide.

I spent many years living and working in some of the most beautiful, pristine, and remote wilderness areas in Southern Africa. I was privileged to experience a side of life that most will only ever see on the big screen, TV wildlife documentaries, and nature-related programmes. I revelled in the excitement and anticipation of working up close and personal with some of Africa's more famous animals, reptiles, and insects … and notwithstanding numerous hair-raising close calls with a few of them, including a life-and-death struggle with cerebral malaria courtesy of the female anopheles mosquito, I feel incredibly blessed to have experienced such awe-inspiring encounters with such truly magnificent animals!

I met some wonderful, inspirational human beings along the way, from all levels of society and all corners of the globe. However, I also met some 'less-than-inspirational' people … including one of whom almost killed me … intentionally … and then held me at gunpoint while I was gravely injured.

Sadly, despite the apparent overall success I was experiencing in my 'African bush life', I could not find the inner peace, self-acceptance, or happiness I so desperately craved. I still felt like a worthless failure on the inside. I became very skilled at hiding what I believed to be true about myself and did not want anyone else to see that I felt like a complete fraud … an “accomplished pretender” who did not deserve happiness, success, or love.

When I first arrived in New Zealand in 2003, I had somehow managed to stay sober for a few years. Despite having been homeless for almost a year and a half in South Africa, where I lived in my car and showered at the local gym, I thought I had figured things out and finally made peace with my past, my demons, and myself. Being sober felt like a miracle, as alcohol dependence and drug abuse had been a long-standing and difficult issue for me since the age of 13. I felt ready to take on the world as a new, improved version of myself. However, undiagnosed complex PTSD, along with other stress-related issues, combined with new levels of dysfunctional alcohol and drug abuse, gradually brought me to my knees. Hell opened up with renewed vigour for my soul!

During this “hell on earth” period of suffering, I watched my beloved mother slowly wither away. When she passed, I assisted in placing her in a body bag. I became dependent on powerful opiate painkillers after struggling with a degenerative spinal condition that required two major surgeries between 2007 and 2009. This progressive condition involved the removal of four cervical discs, which were replaced with two titanium-ceramic artificial discs at the C3/4 and C4/5 levels, along with fusion at the C5/6 and C6/7 levels.

I also narrowly escaped a devastating house fire just 11 days after the February 2011 earthquake in Christchurch, which took the lives of 185 people. One night, I woke up coughing and spluttering as smoke filled my room. Raging flames had engulfed the front of the house and the wooden deck outside my bedroom. I grabbed my emergency backpack and laptop and dashed up the stairs to the next level, with angry flames chasing me and forcing me out of the back door while I was only in a pair of boxer shorts. I lost everything I owned, and since I could not afford insurance premiums at the time, I was left with nothing.

My life became overwhelmingly hard and dark, and ending it all began to feel like a very real and appealing option. I struggled to see any way out of my tormented existence. Thankfully, my four attempts to escape this world failed. Somehow, I managed to hang on, and with the support of close family, a few progressive health professionals who thought creatively, and a couple of good friends, I am still here to tell my story.

In 2009, I began an applied bachelor’s degree in Addiction Studies and started working with individuals facing addiction and mental health issues in 2010. While studying, I continued to work and volunteer in the addiction and mental health sector. I later completed a Post-Graduate Diploma in Environments and Health. The desire to help those struggling with PTSD burned deeply within me, and motivated me to pursue further education, and in 2017, I earned a Master of Health Sciences (Honours) specialising in Men's Health from the University of Canterbury. In 2019, I registered PTSD Navigators NZ as a New Zealand Business.

I have completed specialised training in Psychological First Aid, Crisis Intervention, and Moving Forward: Overcoming Life's Challenges. Additionally, I make it a priority to stay updated on the latest research and breakthroughs in PTSD and addiction treatment approaches, and I regularly undergo professional clinical supervision.

Over the years, I have fought many difficult battles with my inner demons, including major struggles with alcohol and drugs. I have experienced numerous dysfunctional relationships, moved from job to job, faced numerous failures, and endured too many painful experiences, often feeling as though I was drifting from one catastrophe to another and from one country to the next. Thoughts of suicide and deep depression were constant companions as I tried repeatedly to pick up the fragmented pieces of my life and put them back together.

My journey of self-discovery and the devastating impact of treatment-resistant Complex PTSD, along with other stress-related issues, have taught me a great deal and given my life meaning and purpose. I am passionate about helping and supporting others in their healing process, especially those who feel overwhelmed as they search for answers and solutions just to get through the day.

When someone cannot see a way out of their miserable situation, they often become consumed by the overwhelming anxieties brought on by life's relentless demands and pressures. This can lead to a loss of hope. Without hope, individuals struggle to envision a future, and some may give up, believing there is no way out of their misery.

I am a fighter and a survivor. I have endured 100% of the worst that life and my PTSD could throw at me, including quite a few 'kitchen sinks.' While I still face ugly, dark, and difficult days, they occur less frequently than when I first started this journey, when life felt overwhelming. I no longer fear these tough days or where my mind might take me. I understand that they will pass, and I am not afraid; I have made peace with this darkness. I have found self-acceptance and purpose, as well as effective coping strategies. Because of this, I have discovered my way through the darkness.

Russell T. Blackney