This is part three of the series I’m referring to as, “Mind of C-PTSD.” It is a number of writings that explores the C-PTSD survivor’s journey from the dysfunctional life towards a more functional life. As usual, all writings are from my personal journey and perspective.
Take what resonates. Leave what doesn’t.
Do I Have a Superiority Complex?
***Villain Era? Fine, I’ll Bring the Cape***
“You think you’re better than everyone else.” That accusation has been tossed at me more than once, usually laced with passive aggression or the defensiveness of someone who misses the version of me that over-apologised and over-explained. It used to sting, back when I lacked the tools to question it. Now I hear it and think, perhaps they’re mistaking self-assurance for arrogance. Maybe it’s not superiority at all — maybe I’ve simply stopped acting like I’m less. If that makes me the villain, fine. I’ll take the role. In fact, let me add a dramatic sparkly cape to my Amazon cart while I’m at it. At least this time, I’m choosing the costume.
***It Wasn’t Confidence; It Was Survival***
What looks like arrogance is usually something far less glamorous: survival. C-PTSD rewires you. You learn that silence keeps you invisible, that agreeableness keeps you out of trouble and that scanning every shift in tone is safer than just being yourself. The blunt honesty, the quick exits from certain conversations and the refusal to argue in circles weren’t born from pride. They were survival tactics that hardened into habit. I’m softening now, slowly, but I won’t apologise for the armour that kept me alive.
***The Reverting Is Still Real***
People-pleasing hasn’t vanished; it just wears a better disguise. Sometimes it shows up dressed as diplomacy, other times as “just being nice.” I still catch myself explaining too much or bending my words to make them palatable. The difference is I notice it now. I let the discomfort sit without letting it run the show. Old scripts still knock on the door, yet, I no longer invite them in for tea.
***Discernment Isn’t Superiority***
There’s a chasm between discernment and judgement, although people love to blur the line. Saying, “This no longer aligns with me,” is discernment. Saying, “I’m better than you,” is judgement. I practise the former, yet, I’m accused of the latter. Truthfully, I just don’t have the stamina to play unpaid therapist anymore. If someone takes offence at my boundaries, it’s probably because they were benefitting from my lack of them.
***Silence Doesn’t Mean I’m Cold***
I’ve stopped over-explaining myself which often gets mistaken for indifference. These days, I let people think what they want, mostly because their version of me was never accurate anyway. That’s not arrogance; it’s self-preservation. I’d rather be misread than betray myself for the sake of appearing digestible.
***I Still Catch Myself Performing***
The old instincts sneak back. Sometimes I soften my tone unnecessarily or package my words in bubble wrap to keep others comfortable. It’s not fake, it’s conditioning. Yet, now I notice, I pause and I return to myself faster. That’s progress worth respecting.
***Humour Has Become My Buffer***
Instead of shaming myself for every old reflex, I laugh. When the people-pleaser tries to crawl back, I greet her like, “Oh, you again? Adorable.” She doesn’t get the steering wheel anymore. Humour lets me stay compassionate with myself without romanticising the past.
***Becoming Requires Space***
I’m not aiming for some flawless “final form.” I just want to stop abandoning myself. That doesn’t make me superior; it makes me someone finally unwilling to trade authenticity for temporary peace. Of course, some find that threatening. Yet, people who have thrived on your compliance will always call your boundaries “coldness.” Their story isn’t mine to correct.
***If I’m the Villain, Let Me Choose the Costume***
Do I have a superiority complex? Hardly. What I have is a messy, evolving relationship with my own worth after years of being told I was too much, not enough, then too much again. I’m not strutting around believing I’m above others. I’m simply trying not to lose the self I fought to reclaim. If that makes me the villain, I’ll accept the role. This time, though, it’s not for their narrative, it’s for mine. (And yes, the cape stays.)
Mystic Anomanly 