Complex Trauma in Ginny and Georgia Part II: Conceptualizations and Diagnoses
“Momma’s Just Trying to Survive”: A Therapist’s Take on Georgia and Ginny’s Trauma
In my last blog post, I talked about how Ginny & Georgia gives us a surprisingly raw look at complex trauma…how it shapes people, how it gets passed down, and how messy healing can be. But if we zoom in a little closer, Georgia and Ginny also give us an opportunity to talk about two very different responses to complex trauma (CPSTD): the kind that can look more like narcissism, and the kind that can look more like borderline personality traits.
Let’s be clear: these are not insults. They’re survival styles. They’re adaptations to pain. And they make sense.
Complex Trauma in Georgia: Charm, Control, and Narcissistic Defenses
“Beneath the surface of narcissism lies a terror of true intimacy and a profound fear of being seen and found lacking.”
— Melanie Klein
“The function of the grandiose self is not to inflate, but to protect the vulnerable, injured self beneath.”
— Heinz Kohut
“Narcissistic defenses are the psyche’s best effort to avoid annihilation when love and mirroring are absent in early life.”
— Donald Kalsched“The narcissist’s hunger for admiration masks a deeper hunger: to be known, to be valued, to exist in the heart of another.”
— Sam Vaknin
Georgia’s whole vibe is survival. She’s resourceful, magnetic, and fiercely protective—but also secretive, manipulative, and emotionally armored. On the surface, she’s confident and composed. But underneath, there’s deep fear and shame.
From a trauma-informed lens, Georgia presents like someone with narcissistic defenses, which are often misunderstood. Narcissism isn’t just grandiosity. Narcissism can be the result of developmental trauma where the child learns they are only safe or worthy when they’re perfect, impressive, or needed. Although with Georgia, we certainly see grandiosity, too!
What we see in Georgia:
Early trauma and neglect: Sexual abuse, abandonment, homelessness, and exploitation from a young age.
Over-reliance on image: She uses beauty, charm, and control as her armor. (“Beauty is a goddamn machine gun.”)
Emotional avoidance: Her mantra is to “never look back,” avoiding vulnerability at all costs.
Exploitation and secrecy as survival: Lying, blackmail, even murder become tools to stay safe.
Low capacity for emotional intimacy: Her relationships are performative and carefully managed.
Protective identification with power: She becomes the abuser before she can be abused again.
What this tells us:
Georgia likely learned early on that her emotional needs would not be met and that being vulnerable was dangerous. So she created a false self to survive: the version of herself who could charm, seduce, and outmaneuver any threat. Her narcissistic defenses aren’t cruel; they’re armor. Underneath is a young part who is terrified of being powerless and discarded.
Complex Trauma in Ginny: Emotional Intensity, Shame, and Borderline Vulnerability
Ginny, on the other hand, shows a different survival style—one that often gets labeled as “too much.” She feels everything deeply, swings between idealization and rage, and struggles with identity and self-worth. She’s emotionally raw in a way Georgia never lets herself be.
“Borderline patients are not fragile. They are fierce survivors of unthinkable emotional pain.”
— Janina Fisher
“The borderline personality is not a failed person—it is a person whose emotional system never had the chance to develop in safety.”
— Nancy McWilliams“Self-harm, rage, and idealization are not signs of manipulation. They are desperate attempts to be seen, to stay connected, to not disappear.”
— Judith Herman“People with borderline personality have often learned that closeness equals danger—and yet crave connection more than anything.”
— Janina Fisher
This looks a lot like borderline personality traits, which, from a trauma perspective, are the result of relational trauma, especially in childhood, where emotional needs were inconsistent, minimized, or pathologized.
What we see in Ginny:
Identity confusion: As a biracial teen in predominantly white spaces, she feels like she doesn’t belong anywhere.
Attachment instability: She clings to people and then pushes them away, fearing both abandonment and engulfment.
Emotional dysregulation: Her moods shift quickly and intensely, especially in response to perceived rejection.
Self-harm: A desperate attempt to feel in control and express pain that can’t be verbalized.
Deep shame and self-loathing: Even when things go well, she feels like she’s not enough.
Hyper-awareness of injustice and hypocrisy: Especially toward her mother, who presents one way and lives another.
What this tells us:
Ginny’s trauma is less about early neglect and more about emotional fragmentation. She doesn’t know which parts of her are “okay” to show. She internalizes the chaos and secrecy around her and doesn’t know how to regulate the pain inside. She’s not manipulative; she’s terrified of being abandoned and trying to hold herself together.
Intergenerational Trauma in Action
What’s both heartbreaking and so real about this show is how Georgia and Ginny trigger each other’s trauma responses:
Georgia sees Ginny’s emotional intensity as weakness or danger and shuts it down.
Ginny sees Georgia’s secrecy as betrayal, and lashes out.
Georgia’s self-protective avoidance feels cold.
Ginny’s need for truth and closeness feels threatening.
Neither of them is the villain. They’re both survivors trying to break cycles they don’t yet fully understand. This is what complex trauma looks like across generations: not evil or pathology, but unhealed pain bumping up against unhealed pain.
Healing Is Possible—But It’s Messy
In therapy, we don’t just ask “what’s wrong with you?”—we ask “what happened to you?” And in Ginny & Georgia, we get hints of what happened. We also see what healing might begin to look like:
Ginny starts therapy, begins to reflect on her feelings instead of only acting them out.
Georgia starts to question the consequences of her secrets, even if it’s slow.
Both of them begin to realize they can’t keep doing it alone.
If you see yourself in either of these characters, or in the pain between them, just know: you’re not broken. You adapted. And healing is possible, especially with the right support.
If you’re navigating the long echoes of trauma, struggling in your relationships, or seeing yourself in these dynamics, therapy can help. You deserve healing that honors both your strength and your pain.
