drglenndoyle

What does what we like have to do with trauma recovery?

We’re not going to realistically build self-respect while also mocking or hiding the things we like. 

Many of us were taught by our bullies and abusers to do exactly that. 

We were taught that if we like something, we can’t show it. 

We were taught that if we’re passionate about something, we’d better keep it hidden. 

We were taught that liking something a lot is “cringe,” and that the only way to keep from being mocked about it is to mock it first ourselves, pretend that we like it ironically. 

I almost never see this discussed in “trauma treatment” circles— how the stuff we like, the stuff we’re passionate about, is integral to our trauma recovery. 

After all, what are we recovering for? 

We need something to think about, to dig into, to celebrate. 

We need our lives to be ABOUT something other than trauma. 

I don’t believe we like the stuff we like “for no reason.” 

The stuff we like, the stuff that resonates with us— stories, music, movies, shows, plays, art, characters— speak to us for reasons. And I choose to believe those reasons are important. 

One of the reasons I can’t design a generalized trauma recovery plan for everybody reading this is because we’re all individuals. What heals me, may not heal you; and what heals you, may not resonate with me.

And make no mistake: the art that resonates with us, heals us. In profound, sometimes inexplicable ways. 

Just like we’re not finding our way out of this CPTSD maze while also mocking and denigrating ourselves, like we were conditioned to do by our bullies and abusers, we’re also not finding our way out of this labyrinth while mocking and denigrating the things we love. 

The things we like and love and invest in— those are part of us. 

Pay attention to what you like and love and get interested in and get passionate about. 

Notice what resonates with you, what catches your attention, what tugs at your heart. 

Treat the things you like and love with respect. Don’t let anyone con or coerce you into denying or disowning them just to be one of the “cool kids.” 

Let me tell you something about real “cool kids:” they don’t actually try to pressure or shame anyone into not liking or celebrating what they like. 

Not every resource that supports your trauma recovery is going to explicitly be a trauma recovery resource. 

But what every resource that supports your trauma recovery will have in common is, it will “grab” you in a positive way. 

Instead of denying and disowning those things that “grab” us, we need to nurture them, collect them, invest in them. 

The stuff we like and love and get passionate about are clues. 

They point the way home. 

drglenndoyle

We are not “obligated” to engage with toxic people or institutions from our past. Really we’re not.

Something that happens in realistic trauma recovery is, we realize we no longer want to be around people or institutions that hurt us. 

It can be a weird feeling. Especially if we grew up with those people or institutions. 

We might even be attached to those people or institutions on some level. 

But we often get to the point where the juice just isn’t worth the squeeze when it comes to engaging with them any longer. 

It can be bittersweet. 

It can be especially bittersweet if we have other people in our life encouraging us to reconcile with those people or institutions. 

We all know people like this— who think it’s their job to mend fences, even if they have no idea why those fences are damaged in the first place. 

Some people— including ourselves— hate the idea that there are some things that can happen in relationships that functionally mean the end of those relationships. 

But the reality is, engaging with people or institutions that hurt us exacts a cost. 

We have to expend energy to tolerate being around them. 

We have to expend energy managing the triggers they scrape up. 

We have to expend energy staying grounded, to the extent that we can stay grounded. 

We have to expend energy managing the reactions and needs of the “parts” of ourselves that hold the memories and feelings associated with the past. 

Those energy expenditures add up— and they can be exhausting. 

Add to that the fact that continuing to engage with many people or institutions from our past is simply not value added for many of us. 

We don’t get anything positive from it. We don’t need it. 

All engaging with those people or institutions does for us is allow us to pretend we’re somehow “over it.” Which, news flash, we almost never are. 

(Even if we were or are “over it,” that STILL doesn’t mean the juice is worth the squeeze when it comes to engaging with certain people and institutions from our past.)

Make no mistake: you and I are under absolutely no obligation to continue engaging with people and institutions that hurt us. 

We don’t have a “duty.” We don’t have a “responsibility.” 

And anyone who has the expectation that we’ll continue engaging with people or institutions that hurt us just because we “should” (or, at least they think we “should”) is delusional. 

We can set that limit with ourselves— “no looking back.” 

Even if it means we’ll have to break some longstanding traditions. 

Even if it means we might disappoint or confuse someone. 

Even if it means someone might decide we’re “difficult” or “high maintenance” or “dramatic” to set that limit. 

By the way, choosing to no longer engage with people or institutions that hurt us isn’t “difficult,” or “high maintenance,” or “dramatic.” 

But even if it was? F*ck it. Be “difficult.” Be “high maintenance.” Be “dramatic.” 

But do not be a human being who feels trapped or controlled by others’ expectations. 

Not anymore— not ever again. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Fight the real “war” in trauma recovery.

The “war” is not between us and our triggers. 

Our triggers are unpleasant— but they’re not the enemy. 

They didn’t ask to be triggers, any more than we asked to be triggered by them. 

The reason they are triggers is good old classical and operant conditioning. No more; no less. 

No, the real “war” in trauma recovery is between us and our old conditioning, which I like to personify as “Trauma Brain.” 

Trauma Brain is not our brain. Nor is Trauma Brain a “part” of us that needs acceptance and understanding. 

Trauma Brain is everything we internalized from our abusers and bullies. 

Every pattern of vicious self talk, every pattern of toxic mental focus, every pattern of restricted physiology. Every time the voices and priorities of our abusers and bullies seem to be running the show inside— that’s Trauma Brain. 

Sometimes “parts” of us collaborate with or amplify Trauma Brain’s bullsh*t— but they are not Trauma Brain, and Trauma Brain is not a “part.” 

Some survivors make the mistake of thinking they can negotiate with Trauma Brain. 

Some survivors misunderstand Trauma Brain as a “part” that only needs to be listened to and nurtured to change its patterns. 

Trust me: nobody reading this needs to be listening to Trauma Brain. 

Trauma Brain does not “hold” anything useful for us. It does not “protect” anything inside. Its needs are not our needs. 

Trauma survivors can be enormous empathic— and many of us really want to understand and align with what we (mistakenly) believe is a wounded part. 

That’s what Trauma Brain is counting on. That’s how it uses our empathy against us. 

If you’re going to think of yourself as a “warrior,” and your trauma recovery as a “war,” don’t think of it as you “fighting” against your triggers, or anything else outside of yourself. 

Think of yourself as in competition with your old, conditioned patterns. 

Those patterns are not our fault. 

I said: those patterns are not our fault. 

Again, I said: those patterns are not our fault. Trauma symptoms and responses are not “choices.” 

(I said: trauma symptoms and responses ARE NOT CHOICES.)

But we are fighting against those old patterns nonetheless. 

Trauma recovery is about reformatting our own hard drive. Reconditioning how we feel, what we think, what we believe how we make choices. 

None of that will be accomplished by going to “war” with our triggers. 

Triggers gonna trigger. And we are going to react. 

But after the reaction, once we realize what’s happening— we have some wiggle room. We once again have choices, even if they’re teeny, tiny choices at first, about how to talk to ourselves, what to focus on, and how to breathe and use our body. 

That’s where the “war” is fought— in our choices. 

And that’s where the “war” is realistically won. 

drglenndoyle

Sick and f*cking tired.

Getting sick and f*cking tired is a tool. 

It’s often a very necessary tool. 

Sometimes we don’t actually change anything until we’re sick and f*cking tired. 

I don’t love feeling sick and f*cking tired, understand. And I imagine you don’t, either. 

I also imagine there are plenty of people reading this who are so f*cking sick and tired that they literally can’t express it. 

If there’s one thing almost all of the survivors who have come to me for support in their journey have had in common, it’s that they are sick and f*cking tired. 

And if there’s another thing many of them have in common is, they often have very mixed feelings about being sick and f*cking tired. 

Many survivors don’t feel we have the “right” to feel sick and f*cking tired. 

Many survivors are ambivalent about whether what we’re feeling is “enough” to affect us like it has. 

Many survivors tell themselves over and over again that what they’ve been through isn’t “bad enough” to either produce the symptoms they’re experiencing— or to require them to work a trauma recovery. 

On, and on, and on…we very often invalidate and minimize and deny and disown our experience and our needs. 

None of which changes the fact that we’re actually quite sick and f*cking tired of all of this. 

The reality is, we need to meet that sick-and-f*cking-tired experience with radical acceptance— it is happening, whether we love it or not and whether we feel we have a “right” to experience it or not— with enormous compassion, patience, and realism. 

And I also find it helpful to think of sick and f*cking tired as a tool. I think of it as fuel. 

When I get sick and f*cking tired, I remind myself that if nothing changes, nothing changes. 

If I keep doing what I’ve always done, I’ll keep getting what I’ve always gotten. 

None of that is to shame or blame myself for my pain. That’s not the point of thinking of sick and f*cking tired as a tool. 

That’s to face the reality that I can only influence— not “control”— finite corners of my experience, notably my self talk, mental focus, and physiology…and that if I am truly sick to death of living the same day over and over again, “Groundhog Day” style, I’m going to need to realistically leverage the wiggle room I DO have. 

The truth is, I am sick and f*cking tired of dreading feeling sick and f*cking tired. So I insist on doing something with it. Turning that feeling into a tool. Into rocket fuel for my recovery. 

Your mileage may vary. 

But I do not recommend just sitting in the sick and f*cking tiredness of it all. 

I recommend using it as a tool to focus and propel you. 

Because f*ck this, you know? 

drglenndoyle

Independence Day.

Most everybody reading this is engaged in a war for independence right now. 

Most everybody reading this truly wants to be independent— and also, many people reading this have very mixed beliefs and feelings about what “independence” actually means. 

For trauma survivors, “independence” can mean a lot of things. 

We hate, hate, hate feeling “dependent,” upon anyone or anything. 

Even the things it’s normal or unavoidable to feel “dependent” on— food, water, oxygen— we tend to be ambivalent about at best. 

For many people reading this, dependence has been nothing but dangerous in our lives. 

Dependence has often led us to be or remain involved with hurtful people and institutions, notably churches, long beyond the point where they proved their toxicity. 

There is a subset of mental health influencers who roam around loudly proclaiming “trauma can ONLY heal in relationships”— without any apparent understanding of how that sounds to CPTSD survivors who have only ever been hurt in relationships. 

To tell a trauma survivor the ONLY path to healing is by depending on someone else is often to guarantee that survivor absolutely will not consider trauma recovery safe or possible. 

You’re going to run into plenty of people eager to lecture you about how you need to “get over” your anger, fear, and resentment about feeling dependent. 

But very few people are going to be willing or able to tell you what exactly that’s supposed to look like. 

If we could have just “gotten over” any or all of our attachment pain points, we would certainly have done so by now. 

I don’t actually believe we have to resolve all of our ambivalence about attachment and dependence in order to realistically work a trauma recovery. 

It’s true that certain relationships— but certainly not all relationships— can be powerful tools and supports on our healing journey…but it’s my observation that almost everybody starts this journey profoundly alone. 

(And for many survivors, that profound state of aloneness is a feature, not a glitch.)

We are, in point of fact, fighting a war for independence. 

Independence of our mind from memories and beliefs that are not accurate— no matter how “right” they happen to feel— and which do not serve us. 

Independence of our nervous system from dysregulation and pain. 

Independence of our bodies from somatic memories, chronic pain, and complex illnesses that are “spiked” by CPTSD. 

Many survivors with DID in particular are fighting a war for independence of their inner environment from “parts” that, while they may mean well, often show up in self-sabotaging ways. 

Your war for independence is like all other survivors’— and it’s profoundly unlike any other survivors’. 

As you fight your war for independence, I need you to remember that wars are not won by overwhelming firepower alone. They’re very often won by strategy, patience, and commitment to one’s values and goals. 

(By the by, everyone reading this could do worse than to read Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War,” with an eye for how to apply the ancient general’s philosophies to their trauma recovery.)

Today may not be your Independence Day, yet. 

But if you’re reading this, I respect your fight, and I hope the tools, skills, and philosophies I discuss on these pages realistically add to your arsenal. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma survivors and cats.

Trauma survivors can be a lot like cats. 

We can be easily startled— often by things that “shouldn’t” startle us. 

We can sometimes get spooked by things other people can’t see. 

We can be slow to trust. 

If someone wants to get close to us, they’re going to need patience. And consistency. And the ability not to take our skepticism personally. 

A lot of people don’t understand trauma survivors— in much the same way a lot of people don’t understand cats. 

Sometimes cats hiss, even at people who they love.

And then sometimes they cuddle up to people they just hissed at. 

Cats can be really good at hiding. 

And sometimes cats come when they’re called— but just as often, calling a cat makes it get even more elusive. 

All true of trauma survivors, too. 

We can be famously prickly. 

Like cats, we don’t respond well to people coming at us. 

Like cats, we do not respond well to feeling trapped. Or controlled. Or in trouble. 

Seriously, have you ever tried to reprimand a cat? It’s a surefire way to make it defiant. Cats tend to double down when they’re “in trouble.” 

Many trauma survivors reading this know exactly what this feels like. 

Here’s the thing, though: cats are wildly misunderstood. Much like trauma survivors. 

Does it take time and patience and a little bit of knowledge about how we work to get close to either a cat or a trauma survivor? Absolutely. 

But: like cats, trauma survivors, once you put in that effort, are some of the most loyal, most loving, and dare I say some of the fiercest creatures on the planet. 

Yes, loving cats— or trauma survivors— can be complicated. 

And yes, loving cats— and trauma survivors— is 100% worth the effort. 

(That includes the effort required for us trauma survivors to love ourselves, by the way.)

drglenndoyle

Get dangerous.

Get dangerously consistent. 

Terrifyingly consistent. 

Get so consistent with your trauma Recovery Supporting Rituals (RSR’s) that people wonder what your deal is. 

Here’s the thing: sustainable trauma recovery is going to ask you to do things on a regular basis that the normies aren’t even going to comprehend. 

Trauma recovery makes us survivors get clear about our values, goals, and habits in ways they will never understand. 

Understand, we shouldn’t “have” to think about any of this. It sucks that we do. 

But the fact that we do have to think about trauma recovery in order to stay alive and function, means we wizards have to get real about sh*t that the muggles never do. 

Trauma recovery is not just about processing trauma or coping with trauma symptoms. 

It is ultimately about connecting with and developing and amplifying our authenticity. 

Becoming who we really are. Rediscovering— or maybe just discovering— who we were meant to be underneath all of this. 

That’s going to require courage— and discipline. 

Which is where the terrifying consistency comes in. 

Do you know how few people out there in the world actually set and work toward goals in any consistent way? 

Most of the people you and I meet in the course of a day are on cruise control. They haven’t truly thought about who they are or what they want— maybe ever. 

It’s one of the main reasons why so many people out there are so miserable— no trauma required, even. 

Trauma recovery is going to ask us to be unlike them. 

If we want trauma recovery to be realistic and sustainable— if we want it to be more than an abstraction we read about on the internet— we’re going to have to do things most people can’t, or at least won’t. 

We’re going to have to be consistent. 

Consistent in checking in with ourselves. 

Consistent in talking to ourselves like a supportive, realistic coach— not like a drill sergeant. 

Consistent in feeding and hydrating ourselves in ways that actually support our functioning. 

Consistent in reality testing the bullsh*t the culture throws our way, instead of swallowing wholesale. 

Consistent in defining and working toward our recovery goals in realistic segments, every day, every hour. 

The kind of consistency trauma recovery demands of us is not always easy. Especially if you’re like me, and you have a brain that gets enamored of shiny objects. 

But there really is no substitute for consistency. 

Dangerous consistency. Terrifying consistency. Consistency that the normies cannot wrap their heads around. 

Work your recovery like you’re obsessed. 

(You and I are trauma survivors, we f*cking KNOW what obsession looks and feels like.)

drglenndoyle

Complex trauma, complex recovery.

You’re not struggling, with either trauma or trauma recovery, “for no reason.” 

This sh*t is hard. And complicated. And sneaky. 

How is CPTSD “sneaky?” Because it masquerades as other things. 

Often complex trauma masquerades as “personality.” 

Sometimes it masquerades as aspects of neurodivergence (that can intersect with aspects of very real neurodivergence). 

Sometimes CPTSD can masquerade as organic cognitive dysfunction (which, again, can intersect with very real organic cognitive dysfunction or brain injury). 

But the sneakiest thing of all about CPTSD is how it will pretend it has nothing to do with what we went through. 

Many of the signs and symptoms of complex trauma don’t superficially point to what happened to us. 

CPTSD is different from PTSD, insofar as many PTSD symptoms directly link back to the “main” trauma, in the form of explicit flashbacks and other intrusive memories. 

But with CPTSD, the symptoms mainly point back to us. 

To our beliefs about ourselves. 

To our reflexes in our relationships. 

To our emotional regulation in situations that don’t seem to have anything to do with our trauma. 

To our reasons to triggers that don’t seem to “make any sense” in the context of our trauma. 

This is what makes complex trauma “complex”— the fact that CPTSD struggles can engulf so much more of our life and functioning that “should” be affected. 

(One of the things this means, by the way, is that realistic RECOVERY from CPTSD has to involve more than just “processing the trauma”— it often involves rehabbing our whole life and identity.)

When we’re up against something as sneaky as CPTSD, we can’t afford to minimize. 

We can’t get up in our head about “okay, but was it really ‘TRAUMA,’ though? Am I really ‘eligible” for these terms and tools?” 

Don’t overthink it. If you’re reading this, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt: you’re “eligible” to be a member of the trauma recovery community. 

(And, even if you really don’t think you are, I’m willing to give you a pass— stick around anyway. Everybody also reading these words really wants you to recover from WHATEVER pain you’re trying to manage and heal, “traumatic” or not.)

CPTSD is sneaky, and realistic CPTSD recovery requires daily, hourly vigilance and skill. 

You’re not wrong or “weak” to be frustrated with it, exhausted by it, over it. Big same, some days. 

Acknowledge that, validate that, allow all that to exist. 

And then: do the next recovery supporting thing. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

You’re not “too much.” That’s just Trauma Brain f*cking with you.

Let’s be clear: the respect you’re asking for, the respect you’re entitled to, is not asking for anything unusual. 

We trauma survivors can lose perspective on that. 

We’ve been conditioned to believe most ANY boundary we assert is “mean.” 

We’ve been conditioned to believe that basic respect— for our physical body, for our time, for our needs, for our boundaries— is “too much.” 

We’ve often been conditioned to believe that WE are “too much.” 

The truth is, we actually deserve lots of things we’ve been programmed to believe we don’t. 

We do, actually, deserve respect. 

We do, actually, deserve privacy. 

We do, actually, deserve to be taken seriously. 

And believe me when I tell you that a not-small subset of survivors just read that and thought some version of, “he’s not talking about me. Maybe everybody ELSE deserves those things; but I don’t.” 

That’s how deep the conditioning goes. 

It goes so deep that smart, self-aware survivors all read what I just wrote, and actually believe that they are somehow The Exception to it all. 

You are not The Exception. 

It’s actually not hard to extend basic respect to other human beings. 

It’s actually not hard to be broadly kind to other human beings. 

When we want and need respect and kindness from other people, it’s important we keep in mind that we’re not asking for something that requires a ton of effort. 

We’re not asking for the moon, here. 

We’re asking for the courtesy and thoughtfulness that most people would extend to basically any creature. Most people would be nice to a dog they don’t know by default. 

It’s real important we reprogram ourselves around this subject as we work our trauma recovery. 

It’s real important we remember— that we remind ourselves— that asking for basics from other human beings does not make us “high maintenance.” 

That feeling— that belief— that having ANY need or boundary makes us “too much” is just that: a feeling, a belief. It’s not reality. 

I find the expression “feelings are not facts” to be more than a little reductionistic, but this is one of those situations where it applies. 

And but also: let’s say our basic boundaries and needs really are “too much” for someone— that sounds like a “them” issue, don’t you think? 

Remember: if you’re “too much” for them, they are always welcome to go find less. 

But you just existing does not make you “too much.” Really. 

Don’t let Trauma Brain convince you otherwise. It just wants you to feel bad— for existing, for breathing, for anything. 

drglenndoyle

Consistency and recovery.

There is zero shame in struggling with consistency in our trauma recovery. 

Everybody struggles with consistency. I struggle with it. 

It doesn’t mean we’re not committed. It doesn’t even mean we’re not focused. 

What it means is that CPTSD tends to jerk us around a lot. Hijack us. 

If you’re reading this, you likely know exactly what I’m talking about— what it feels like to be a puppet on a string. 

One minute we can be more or less okay— then we get yanked in the direction of anxiety. Or depression. Or self-harm urges. 

There might not even seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. No particular trigger. 

Realistic, sustainable trauma recovery requires a lot of attention to our self-talk, our mental focus, and our physiology— and it’s real hard to consistently pay attention to what we’re saying to ourselves, what we’re focusing on, and what our body is doing, when we’re getting jerked around by triggers and memories. 

That’s not our fault. Nobody reading this “chooses” to get hijacked by trauma memories and trauma responses. 

Our job is to not overreact to our difficulties being consistent. 

To not overinterpret it. 

To not tell ourselves a story about how it means we “can’t do this.” 

Our job, when we struggle with consistency in our trauma recovery, is to be compassionate and realistic with ourselves. 

Maybe even gentle with ourselves. 

Maybe even (GASP) FORGIVING of ourselves, for struggling with consistency. 

What a concept, right? 

Don’t get up in your head about it. Consistency is hard. And it’s especially hard when we have CPTSD f*cking with us. 

When you get off track, push pause, breathe, blink, focus…and just do the next right thing for your recovery. Just get back on track when you can. 

Consistency is a long game. 

Keep coming back to center. To your recovery goals and your recovery values. To your recovery self. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus.