Tyrell
Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
South Africa

I was so emotionally closed off, I didn’t even see it happening, I was slowly drifting away from my wife and kids. My childhood had conditioned me that way. Growing up with an alcoholic and emotionally abusive father in a dysfunctional home left me hollow inside—starved for love, recognition, and safety.

In a harsh environment where showing emotion meant risking more hurt, I survived by emulating the hardened masculine heroes of my youth. Vulnerability was out of the question. I became a man focused on success, discipline, and progress—anything to escape the weight of my past. But while my professional life took off, my emotional life flatlined. Without realizing it, I had shut everyone out.

Things unraveled when tragedy struck—our child passed away. At the moment I needed family most, stigma and silence created distance. I finally stood up to my father, but what followed was a wave of emptiness I didn’t know how to handle. My wife saw through the numbness I had normalized. Her compassion became the mirror I couldn’t ignore.

I finally got the wake-up call I needed.

Through a 10-week group therapy course, I practiced vulnerability in a safe space for the first time. That experience helped me start opening up at home—to my wife, to my children, and, eventually, to myself. Therapy, psychology books, and honest conversations reshaped me. I started replacing stoicism with trust, and fear with connection.

Today, I don’t define strength by how little I feel—I define it by how deeply I’m able to love, grieve, and connect. Reclaiming my emotional life didn’t just make me a better partner and father. It made me whole.