drglenndoyle

You don’t need to do it all. Really.

CPTSD will have us trying to do all the things all the time— not because it’s a good idea or we’re up to that impossible “challenge,” but because we don’t feel safe if we try to slow down or do less. 

Many of us grew up believing that we “have” to do it all— or else we’re worthless. 

(Hell, many of us were TOLD as much.) 

Many CPTSD survivors grow up believing that our worth is primarily, maybe exclusively, tied to our ability to not just perform, but to overperform. 

After all, who even WERE we if we weren’t The Best At The Thing??

It’s a byproduct of the fact that we weren’t taught how to develop authentic self-esteem. 

Since we have no context for creating realistic, sustainable feelings of self worth that endure regardless of how we perform, we get very, very attached to our performance metrics. 

Which is great— as long as we’re performing “well.” 

And which creates all the problems you think it creates when we’re not performing “well”— or when life asks us to be someone beyond a performing robot. 

Trauma recovery is going to ask us to get real about who we are and what we’re all about, above and beyond anything we can do— or can do for people. 

It’s going to ask us to be a person who is more than entertaining, or attractive, or useful. 

It’s going to ask us to be, well, us. 

Which can be a problem, when we’re not sure who the hell “we” could possibly even be. 

That’s okay if you have that “who the hell even am I?” problem right now. Almost every survivor working our recovery has that— and at usually more than one point in our recovery, for that matter. 

For now, be clear about the fact that you don’t have to do it all. 

You don’t have to do it perfectly. 

And you don’t have to be anyone other than who you are— I mean who you are right here, right now, as you read this— in order to “deserve” safety, support, recovery…or love. 

Yes, yes— Trauma Brain didn’t like reading that last part, did it? 

That’s a pretty good indicator that last part’s real important to  your recovery. 

drglenndoyle

Being understood is overrated.

Being understood is overrated. 

I know, we want to be understood. Especially if we grew up feeling like an alien. 

You know the feeling I mean. That we’re not of this earth— that we are somehow fundamentally separate from the other humans. That the best we can do is imitate them, guess at what it would be like to be an actual human. 

More people reading this grew up feeling like that than you’d believe. 

So, sure: it may be natural to seek out or crave being understood. 

The thing is, being understood may not be as awesome as we think it will be. 

It may not solve the problems we think it’ll solve. 

At a certain point we come to realize: being not understood, or misunderstood, was never our real problem. 

It was only a symptom of our real problem. 

Our real problem was not that we weren’t understood— it was that we weren’t accepted. 

We weren’t supported. 

We weren’t loved— especially by the people who were supposed to love us. Maybe who said they loved us. 

Being understood isn’t of much value without acceptance, support, and love. 

I’m aware that many people think trauma survivors think— and feel— too much about what we didn’t get growing up. 

My experience, however, is that we survivors actually try very had to NOT think about our past. 

It often takes a lot of trauma recovery work to get to the point of even identifying what we didn’t get once upon a time— or how those deficits affected us, then or now. 

Here’s what I can tell you about that: we can’t develop and integrate ad build on what we never got in the first place. 

It’s really hard to develop self love, when we don’t have a model of love to build on. 

It’s really hard to develop self acceptance if we never saw or felt what “acceptance” looked like growing up. 

None of this means we can’t develop self acceptance, or self love, or self respect— it just means we’re going to have to come at it a little more intentionally than those who grew up with those experiences. 

Being understood is nice. 

But being accepted, supported, and loved— that’s what cultivates self reliance, self respect, and resilience (ugh, that word— but still). 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

drglenndoyle

Start with internal safety.

Yes: it would be better if everybody reading this was physically, externally safe. 

But they’re not. 

And for a subset of the people reading this, perfect external physical safety is not possible right now. 

That’s not the way it should be. Everybody should have realistic safety available to them. We should create a world where realistic physical safety is available to everyone. 

But, since that is not the world we live in, we trauma survivors have to adapt. 

It’s not fair, it’s not right, and we should aspire to create and live in a different world—  but in this current version of reality, we have to adapt. 

One of the most important adaptations we can make is focusing on internal safety. 

We may not be able to stop or control attacks that come from the outside. 

But we can decrease and protect against attacks we launch against ourselves. 

We can commit to using our self talk, mental focus, and physiology to soothe and support ourselves, instead of tearing ourselves down. 

Every survivor reading this needs to know that Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, is out to make us miserable. That’s its job, its mission statement. 

And Trauma Brain very often tries to get us to collude with it— to repeat and amplify its attacks on us. 

That’s what we have to stop. 

That’s what we have to recognize and say “no” to. 

Only we can create internal safety. Only we can choose to use our self talk in constructive, affirming, realistic ways— not the cruel, distorted ways Trauma Brain tries to get us to use. 

I’ve said it before: the quality of our trauma recovery is the quality of our relationship with ourselves. 

If we relate to ourselves primarily as a prosecutor or a punisher, we’re committing to basically doing our bullies’ and abusers’ dirty work for them— in our own goddamn head, in our own voice. 

F*ck that, you know? 

I’m not talking about sophisticated trauma processing theory here. 

I’m talking about basic verbal and emotional first aid and self care. 

For all the people asking me again and again about the “how” of trauma recovery: it starts right here. By shifting how we talk to ourselves, leverage our mental focus, and use our physiology. 

Do we talk to ourselves, focus, and behave toward ourselves in ways our bullies and abusers would prefer? 

Or do we talk to ourselves, focus, and behave toward ourselves— today, right here, right now— in was that communicate self-love (even if we’re not necessarily FEELING loving toward ourselves just now)? 

I want everybody reading this to be safe in the outside world. I hope to contribute to a world in which external physical safety is is a realty for everyone. 

But, barring that: start with internal safety. Start with self talk, mental focus, and physiology. 

That is to say: start basic. 

I love basic. Basic is friend. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Bandwidth and blame.

Sometimes we don’t have the bandwidth for the thing. It happens. 

Not having bandwidth for a thing isn’t a character flaw. It’s not a personal failing. 

Every human being has limits to our focus and energy. That’s not a rationalization; that’s just a fact. 

But we trauma survivors like to shame ourselves for the sin of being human, don’t we? Yes we do. 

(Well…we don’t “like” to do it. We are conditioned to do it. Shaming ourselves for being human and having human limitations, just like all the other humans, is a reflex for many of us.) 

Not having the bandwidth or energy to do a thing isn’t a sin, or a “failure,” or even necessarily a “choice.” 

And if we’re going to realistically recover from trauma, we’re going to need to get out of the habit of giving ourselves sh*t for being human. Because that— being human— is something that is not changing anytime soon. 

The limits on your bandwidth and focus and energy, specifically, may or may not be “normal” as far as many humans go. Among humans who have CPTSD, there is a significant overlap with humans who experience chronic pain and chronic fatigue. 

But, guess what? It’s STILL not a sin to have limited bandwidth, focus, and/or energy, even if those limits aren’t necessarily “normal.” 

Maybe your gas tank runs out before most of the people you know. It’s STILL nothing to be ashamed of. It’s STILL nothing to give yourself sh*t for. 

So you sometimes, or a lot of the time, don’t have the bandwidth to do the thing. And? 

No matter how energetic or exhausted you often are, or you are today, you STILL deserve the benefit of the doubt. 

You STILL deserve compassion and support and patience— from others, yes, but also very much from yourself. 

That limited bandwidth is a symptom. 

That reflex of giving ourselves sh*t for that limited bandwidth is a symptom. 

And in sustainable CPTSD recovery, we do not shame or blame ourselves for symptoms— even if that’s what comes “naturally,” even if it feels “right,” even if we think we “deserve” shame or blame or punishment. 

So you don’t have the bandwidth to do the thing. So what. 

Do what you can, with what you have. 

And don’t give yourself sh*t for not being able to do more right now. 

drglenndoyle

CPTSD birthday blues.

Birthdays can be touchy for many trauma survivors. 

Birthdays often entailed a lot of attention. 

Birthdays often entailed a certain amount of pressure. 

Even now, birthdays may remind us of the passage of time— and/or the ways we have or haven’t supposedly “lived up to our potential.” 

Birthdays are unique in that, every year, they pinpoint a specific moment in time. For this reason memories associated with birthdays can be “stickier” than other memories. 

Adding to all that, we are often expected to be happy on our birthday. 

And if we aren’t visibly happy on our birthday, we can get accused of having a bad attitude. A “disconnected heart,” as it is. 

Then, on top of all THAT, birthdays can often be bittersweet reminders of friends we either don’t have, or no longer have. 

It’s very common for survivors of abuse and neglect to have complicated feelings about their birthday.

You’re not weird, wrong, or “broken.” 

If you’re reading this, your experience around your birthday may not be great. And that’s a drag. 

You may or may not have found the social circle or support network to make your birthday a positive experience. 

But none of that is an indictment of you. 

An important trauma recovery skill is managing our self talk and mental focus around our birthday. 

We need to be gentle with ourselves. 

We need to remind ourselves that no one “chooses” to have complicated feelings about their birthday. 

And we need to remember that, whatever our feelings about our birthday and whatever else our birthday represents to us, it’s another day working our trauma recovery— and that means patience and self-compassion, all day. 

Easy does it. Breathe, blink, focus. 

Even if “happy birthday” happens to trigger you— which you’re definitely not alone in. 

drglenndoyle

Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.

A surefire way to sabotage our trauma recovery is to tell ourselves we “have” to do it. 

Or to think of it as something our therapist or anyone else is “making” us do. 

Believe me when I tell you, neither you nor I “have” to do anything. 

Once upon a time, we did “have” to do things, or else be punished or worse. 

If you’re reading this, you likely know a lot more about coercive control than anybody should have to. 

Fast forward to now, and of course you’re touchy about feeling controlled. 

So it’s real important to remind yourself: trauma recovery is not a “have to” thing. 

You can opt out. 

Of course, by opting out of trauma recovery, you’re necessarily accepting that trauma is going to control certain aspects of your life experience. 

We are free to make decisions— but we are not free to avoid the consequences of our decisions. 

I choose recovery because it actually makes me more realistically free. 

Yes, trauma recovery means I use skills, tools, and philosophies every day that don’t necessarily come easily or naturally to me. 

Yes, it means I cannot just let my mind go where it’s going to go on autopilot— because I’m quite aware that my “autopilot” was programmed by my bullies and abusers. I know where leaving my brain and body on autopilot leaves me, every time. 

That is to say: I know that working my trauma recovery makes me a little less “free” in the moment. 

But the freedom recovery offers me in the bigger picture— the freedom to NOT let my bullies and abusers control my life choices, how I feel and function— is so much more important to me than that day to day, minute to minute sh*t, it’s not even a question. 

Your milage may vary. As I say, no one “has” to do any of this sh*t. No one even “has” to read this page. There are literally thousands of other internet pages. Some of them even have cats, or so I’m told. 

I choose recovery. 

And I recommend recovery. 

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose; and nothin’ don’t mean nothin’ if it ain’t free.”

drglenndoyle

You don’t owe your past anything.

You don’t owe your past anything. 

You don’t owe it allegiance. 

You don’t owe it attention. 

You don’t owe it your suffering. 

We trauma survivors can be weirdly, morosely “sentimental” in a way. 

We can be reluctant to create and nurture our present and future, because we feel “bad” about leaving our past behind. 

Maybe we feel like in leaving our past behind, we’re leaving that version of ourselves behind. 

We’re not. 

We’re leaving behind the relationships and situations that hurt our past self. 

Our past self is actually coming with us into our new, recovery-focused future. 

Trauma recovery is not about rejecting or abandoning our past self. 

It’s about choosing not to worship our past or our pain. 

Many of us have been programmed and conditioned to do exactly that. 

I remember how furious I was when I realized that’s what I was doing. 

I would save sh*t from my past— not because those things were useful to me, but because I felt to let them go would be to somehow dishonor my past or my pain. 

Now, I understand: holding on to those things— or those people— does not “honor” anything worth honoring. 

It just ties me back to that time and that place. 

We don’t need to be connected to our past. We’re already too connected to our past. 

I hate when people tell trauma survivors to “let go” of our past in the abstract. What the hell does that even mean? 

I’ll tell you what I’ve come to understand about “letting go” of the past: it means being willing and able to redirect our self talk and mental focus, over and over again, every day, when either tries to go down old pathways. 

“Letting go” of the past means being willing to throw certain sh*t out. To declutter— mentally, spiritually, and, yes, physically. 

When I say “release the past,” I’m talking about literally throwing certain sh*t away. 

Not having it in front of our face, to look at, to read, to ruminate on. 

You don’t owe you past a goddamn thing. 

You do owe yourself— including that version of you that got you through the sh*t— undivided focus on realistically creating a life, here, now, that you don’t hate. 

When in doubt, throw it out. 

Trauma recovery has a lot in common with hoarding clear outs. 

drglenndoyle

So they didn’t love us. And?

Something many CPTSD survivors have to come to terms with is, we were not loved by the people who were supposed to love us. 

That’s a hard f*cking pill to swallow. 

You’ll notice how many people want to deny and disown that fact. 

There will be people who want to make excuses and rationalize all day. 

They simply cannot process the fact that they weren’t loved. 

To me, it doesn’t even matter why we weren’t loved. I don’t especially care what “their” limitations or motivations may or may not have been. The result is the same. 

Harsh? Eh, maybe. But I don’t particularly care. 

We get all up in our head about what that fact means. 

We weren’t loved by the people who should have loved us, and our brain wants to make some kind of meaning out of that. Because that’s what brains do: they make meaning. 

It wants to tell us a story about why we weren’t loved— and very often that story focuses on how much we supposedly suck, how supposedly “unlovable” we are. 

You need to know: that story is BS— which stands for “Belief Systems.” 

Also bullsh*t. 

You and I weren’t loved. The people who should have loved us may have felt what they thought was “love” toward us— but they did not operationalize that “love” into behaviors that registered with our nervous system the way they needed to. 

And that is not our fault. 

That was not the result of us being inadequate or unloveable. 

That was not “evidence” of anything other than the fact that we weren’t loved. 

It was what it was. It is what it is. 

It doesn’t mean we can’t build a life. 

It doesn’t mean we can’t love and be loved now— although that’s probably going to be complicated, given what we didn’t experience and didn’t see modeled. 

The story your brain is telling you about why you weren’t loved is fake news. It’s what cognitive therapists call “mind reading”— that is, not so educated guesses, usually rooted in a cognitive distortion called “emotional reasoning” (i.e., “it MUST be true because it FEELS true”). 

To realistically recover from trauma or addiction, you and I have to get seriously unattached to the stores our brain makes up about the “why.” 

We may never know why we weren’t loved. 

And that doesn’t change anything. 

And it doesn’t, actually, matter. 

You are valid and valuable whether or not you were loved by the people who happen to share your name and/or DNA. 

Honestly, your parentage is maybe the least interesting thing about you.

Remember. Remember. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

“Fawning” is not a “choice.”

It’s real important we be clear with ourselves that other peoples’ approval or acceptance does not, cannot, make or break our actual worth. 


Sounds obvious, right? 

Not so much when we’re operating with a nervous system wounded by CPTSD. 

It can be more than a little counterintuitive that we get so attached to— and f*cked up by— the very idea of others’ approval or acceptance. After all, we’re smart grown ups, right? Why should we care? 

It’s not a rational thing. 

No one reading this woke up this morning and thought to ourselves, you know what, I think I’m going to get way up in my head about what other people think. 

It’s a deep, gut level thing— a reaction, a reflex. 

Caring what other people think is most closely tied to the “fawn” trauma response, which I describe as that “please and appease” reflex. 

“Fawn,” just like any other trauma response, is not a “choice”— we do it because our nervous system truly believes, in that moment, that we would be literal dead meat if we DON’T please and appease. 

“Fawn” can FEEL a little more like a “choice,” insofar as it manifests in was that tend to be a little more cerebral or nuanced than “fight,” “flight,’ “freeze,” or “flop,” but it’s real important we be clear: no matter how nuanced or complex a trauma response seems to be, it’s still a trauma response. 

That is to say: it’s still not a “choice.” 

When we’re up in our head about making others happy or meeting others’ expectations—that s to say, when we’re drowning in anxiety about others’ approval or acceptance— we’re very frequently playing out a “fawn” response. 

We’re not “weak” and we’re not “stupid.” We’re responding reflexively to conditioning— and trying like hell to survive a situation that truly, honestly feels like like life or death to a “part” of us. 

Yes, learning to care less about others’ approval or acceptance is going to be a significant part of everyone reading this’s trauma recover blueprint— but don’t get sucked into thinking that’s a simple, straightforward “decision” we make, to just “care less.” 

What was conditioned into our nervous system by trauma needs to be reconditioned in our nervous system by recovery— and that takes the time it takes. 

Easy does it. Grace over guilt. 

You didn’t ask for these patterns, and you exist in a culture that does not understand we can’t make significant positive changes in our nervous system in an instant. 

Whether it’s “fight,” “flight,” “freeze,” “fawn,” or “flop” we’re trying to recondition in our nervous and endocrine systems, we need to start by creating realistic safety inside our head and heart— and THAT project starts with giving ourselves permission to find this hard and unfair. 

Others’ approval or acceptance can nether create nor destroy our true worth. 

No matter what the “fawn” response is whispering in your ear right now as you read this. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Food and eating and trauma recovery.

Of course food and eating are inextricably entwined with our experience of both trauma and recovery. 

Eating is hard wired into our survival instincts— you know, those instincts that have been lit up like a Christmas tree every minute of every day, thanks to CPTSD. 

Eating, for many of us, is entwined with ambivalence and shame about our body. 

Controlling our diet or depriving us of food might have played a role in our abuse. 

Eating may yank on our triggers and conflicts around self-indulgence and self-control. 

I don’t think I’ve ever met a trauma survivor for whom eating is uncomplicated— including myself. 

It may be difficult for some people to wrap their head around food and eating as relevant to trauma, especially if our trauma didn’t specifically involve food or eating— but that’s a perfect example of how CPTSD works: very often our symptoms and struggles aren’t “obviously” connected to what we went through. 

(That’s even assuming we clearly or coherently remember what we went through in the fist place— it’s common for CPTSD survivors not to.)

Learning to eat regularly and self-compassionately (I know that may sound strange, but many people reading this don’t know how to eat without hating themselves) is real important in sustainable trauma recovery. 

It won’t matter what we learn or do if our body and brain, our literal cells, are starting for fuel. 

Similarly, realistic recovery is hard if we’re at war with one of our most basic biological needs and urges. 

Ambivalence and conflict around food and eating s one of the main drivers of dissociation. 

A mistake I see some CPTSD survivors make in designing their recovery blueprint is, they overlook symptoms and struggles that they don’t think are overtly relevant to their CPTSD— like eating and other forms of daily self care. 

Many people don’t understand that when I talk about post traumatic self care, I’m not talking about bubble baths and spa days. 

I’m talking about things like literally feeding ourselves and developing accurate knowledge about how food and nutrition work to keep us alive. 

It’s not that you struggle with “adulting.” I know everybody reading this can technically feed themselves. 

It’s that you and I have had experiences that make food and eating (and exercise and sleep and hygiene and other “basic” self care activities) hard. 

No shame. These are all CPTSD symptoms. Not evidence of how “immature” or “lazy” we are. 

Consider your relationship with food and eating yet another relationship we have to work on improving, with patience, compassion, and realism, if we want our trauma recovery to “stick.” 

We are not only “what” we eat— we are “how” we eat, and “why” we eat. 

Don’t rush, pressure, or shame yourself around your food and eating issues. Just put them on your radar screen as something that matters in a realistic recover blueprint.