drglenndoyle

None of this is “fun” or “easy.”

CPTSD is hard to get our arms around. Not everyone has heard of it.

If you asked five random strangers on the street what it is, four of them probably couldn’t tell you. 

Many CPTSD survivors themselves have misconceptions about what it is and how it develops. 

Because CPTSD isn’t as widely talked about in the culture as PTSD is, it’s easy to miss or misunderstand. (Just ask everyone who has been misdiagnosed with a “personality disorder” instead of CPTSD.)

Add to that the fact that dissociation is an incredibly common occurrence in CPTSD, but also an overwhelmingly misunderstood concept in our culture, and the “what is CPTSD” picture gets even hazier for the average person. 

All of this very often leaves CPTSD survivors feeling isolated. 

Alone. 

Kind of “crazy.” 

The thing about CPTSD is that it is an injury— not a “mental illness,” but an injury— that engenders lots of contradictions. 

Many CPTSD survivors are real good at convincingly pretending there’s nothing wrong. 

Hell, many CPTSD survivors achieve success in their academic or professional lives, leading others to assume that they couldn’t POSSIBLY have a serious psychological or behavioral wound. 

There are plenty of people who assume the collection of symptoms and struggles that define CPTSD simply don’t exist. Who believe that survivors can simply “let the past go” if they have enough “character.” 

It all makes recovering from CPTSD complicated. 

My own view is that CPTSD recovery is as involved and long term as recovery from addiction. 

It’s not so much a thing we do, as a lifestyle we live. 

Much like healing a broken bone takes time and care, recovery from CPTSD takes time and care— and we’re not going to think, talk, or “willpower” our way out of it. 

Realistic recovery from CPTSD almost always involves shifting how we relate to ourselves. 

It involves confronting what we were conditioned to believe about ourselves and our lives, and “scratching the record” of that conditioning— again, and again, and again. 

The truth is, you are not alone. Though, I get it— you feel alone. 

There are other CPTSD survivors out there, who are developing their own recovery routines and rituals and tools, just like you. 

No one is having a fun or easy time of this. 

This is not fun or easy. 

But this is doable. 

Yeah. You can do this “trauma recovery” thing. 

And, yeah: it’s going to take an open mind and a committed heart— and the willingness to meet each minute of your recovery on its own terms, one minute at a time. 

But you can do this. 

I swear to you, you can. 

drglenndoyle

Regret, amends, and trauma recovery.

You don’t have to love who you were or what you did, in order to forgive yourself. 

I say this as someone who has struggled with enormous regret for years. 

Regret is literally the biggest challenge in my own trauma and addiction recovery. 

I don’t love who I was or patterns of behavior that defined my life for…decades, actually. 

I look back and I cringe. Maybe you can relate. 

In my trauma recovery, I’ve come to understand that some, maybe many, of the situations that I hate thinking about now, weren’t actually my fault or my “choice.” 

But that doesn’t always help, does it? 

I still don’t love who I was or how I responded to those situations. 

I wish I’d have been cooler. 

Smarter. 

More skilled. 

I wish I’d had more integrity, been truer to myself. 

What many people don’t understand about trauma recovery is, it’s not just about what happened to us. 

It’s also about how we responded at the time— and how we respond now to memories and feelings associated with what happened. 

There were times when I was not a nice person. Not a reliable person. Not a person of integrity. 

Yes, I can have some compassion for and extend some grace to who I was then— he was, after all, working with the tools he had at the time. 

But I still don’t love it. 

I get asked a lot about the relationship between self compassion, self forgiveness, and those times when we weren’t our best selves. 

“What if I actually DID hurt someone, even if I was down the rabbit hole of a trauma response that I didn’t choose?” 

Well, what if? 

I actually agree that our trauma wounds don’t, actually, give us a “free pass” to hurt people. 

If we weren’t our best selves, if we behaved destructively, we should own up to that. 

The problem that many of us trauma survivors have with “owing up” to our past behavior, tough, is that we have a tendency, because of our trauma programming, to blow right past “accepting responsibility” and lock right in on “kicking the sh*t out of ourselves.” 

Kicking the sh*t out of ourselves is not useful, necessary, or deserved. 

“Personal responsibility” and “making amends” in the context of trauma recovery is not about self-punishment. 

It IS about accountability— and realistic accountability is about changed behavior. 

We don’t change behavior long term out of shame or punishment. 

As counterintuitive as it might be, self-forgiveness puts us in a much better  position to sustainably change how we think, feel, and behave going forward. 

“Grace over guilt” is not just a catchy slogan. 

It’s a summary of how we practically, realistically approach our role in the train wreck of our past.

Neither you nor I require “forgiveness” for things that happened TO us. 

And both you and I can realistically, self-compassionately take responsibly for how we’ve responded to the things that have happened to us without kicking the sh*t out of ourselves.

With practice, we can do that, anyway.

drglenndoyle

Avoiding CPTSD overwhelm.

Remember: a day is just twenty four hours strung together. 

An hour is just sixty minutes strung together. 

A minute is just sixty teeny, tiny seconds strung together. 

All we need to do is figure out a way to be safe and focused for a second. This second. 

CPTSD, if you haven’t noticed, does its very best to overwhelm us. To make us truly believe we have to handle EVERY f*cking thing in our life, RIGHT NOW. 

CPTSD tries to make us believe we HAVE to solve EVERY problem we have, NOW. 

And what’s more: CPTSD make us believe that if we can’t solve every problem we have RIGHT NOW, then we can’t solve ANY of our problems. 

It makes us believe we are a failure for feeling overwhelmed. 

You are not “failure” for feeling overwhelmed. 


CPTSD is one of the most overwhelming experiences human beings can experience. 

Hell, the very reason CPTSD and, especially, dissociation exist is because we’ve experienced things that overwhelmed our nervous system. 

That’s not a knock on our nervous system, by the way. Every nervous system has its breaking point, just like every bone has its breaking point. 

We don’t shame bones for breaking when they’ve been subjected to the kind of pressure that breaks bones; and we shouldn’t shame our nervous system for dissociating or developing complex trauma responses when subjected to the kind of pressure that produces CPTSD. 

You are not “crazy” for developing these responses. 

Complex trauma is overwhelming, by definition— and that’s true whether or not you happen to remember, or remember clearly, what happened to you. 

Realistic trauma recovery is all about bringing it back to basics, every day. 

Twenty four hours in a day. 

Sixty minutes in an hour. 

Sixty seconds in a minute. 

And we’re back to using the tools of self talk, mental focus, and physiology, especially breathing, to find a way to make THIS sixty seconds safe. 

Don’t get rushed, bullied, or discouraged by Trauma Brain. 

Reel it in, and focus on this sixty seconds. 

Let the following sixty seconds take care of themselves. 

drglenndoyle

“Joy?” What the hell is that?

CPTSD survivors are often not great at the skill of feeling joy. 

No shame. Of COURSE we’re not good at it. 

Why would we be good at feeling joy, when for so long feeling anything remotely good felt like—or demonstrably was— a trap? 

We were conditioned to believe that feeling good left us vulnerable. 

We were conditioned to believe that feeling good was most likely “fake”— that to allow ourselves to feel good only made it harder when the good feeling went away. Or was ripped away, as it often was. 

We were conditioned to believe that we had no “right” to feel good— and we were “bad” if we “gave in” to the “temptation” of feeling good. 

Most of the time this conditioning operated outside of our awareness— that’s how conditioning works. 

But the end result was, our nervous system was not predisposed to feeling good. 

It wasn’t a skill we had a lot of practice with. 

Fast forward to today, to us working our trauma recovery: as we do things, day by day, to feel and function better, it’s very common to notice anxiety spiking alongside our progress. 

That anxiety is often an artifact of how we’ve been conditioned to respond to feeling good. 

The “it’s a trap!” energy can be strong. 

Sometimes that anxiety can get so intense that we actually sabotage ourselves, so we don’t actually have to “cope” with feeling good. 

Yes— all this might sound weird, even “crazy,” to a non-trauma survivor. 

They might read this and be like, “who DOESN’T want to feel good? Weirdos.” 

It’s one of the many paradoxes of CPTSD. 

It’s not that we don’t want to feel good. Of course we want to feel good. 

It’s that we’re not quite sure how to feel good without jumping out of our skin with anxiety.

Our relationship with pleasure is one of the many relationships we need to revisit and probably reshape as we work our trauma recovery. 

You, actually, have the right to feel good. 

You have the right to feel good without worrying intensely about someone coming along and stealing that feeling from you— or shaming you for feeling it in the first place. 

We get better at experiencing joy the more precise we get at it— and the more we meet our complicated relationship with pleasure with compassion, patience, and realism. 

You know— like we meet all our symptoms and struggles in trauma recovery. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery hack: avoid loser sh*t.

Blaming victims for their own pain is such loser sh*t. 

Which shouldn’t surprise anyone who understands what Trauma Brain is: the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, which we unwittingly play on repeat (not because we “choose” to— but because those voices become part of our conditioning). 

Of course it’s loser sh*t. Our abusers and bullies were losers. 

It takes a real loser to victimize someone vulnerable. 

It takes a real loser to evade and deny responsibility the way our abusers and bullies often did. 

Many survivors get to this point in trauma recovery where our shame suddenly morphs into righteous anger about how we’ve been conned into doing our abusers’ and bullies’ dirty work for them in our own head. 

We got tricked into talking to ourselves the way they talked to us— not because we like it or even because we made a “choice” to, but because that’s how we were talked to for years. 

Our abusers’ and bullies’ voices are our models for how to talk to and otherwise treat ourselves. 

We unwittingly, unconsciously copied those losers. 

And at a certain point in our trauma recovery we realize that fact— and we’re pissed. 

And, like any point in our trauma recovery where we get angry, we can find ourselves walking this fine line between anger at our abusers and bullies— and anger at ourselves for buying into their BS (Belief Systems— but also bullsh*t). 

Let’s be clear: it is not our fault that we responded to our conditioning. 

That’s how conditioning works. It’s not a “choice.”

Trauma responses are not choices. 

The people who DID make choices were our abusers and bullies— and they made such unbelievable loser choices that they should be embarrassed for the rest of time. 

It is maybe the weakest decision possible to victimize a vulnerable person or animal.

Which is one of the huge reasons why it’s so important we develop radically different was of relating to ourselves in trauma recovery. 

We absolutely do not want to echo or reenact what they did to us. 

Our “parts” and inner child are vulnerable— and we owe it to them to be their protector, to be the one who listens to them and extends them grace and respect. 

We owe it to our “parts” and inner child to be worthy of their trust. 

All that starts with a commitment not to repeat the past, now that we know we’re vulnerable to it. 

Your and my abusers and bullies were huge losers. 

Their behavior is only useful to us as a negative model for how to talk to and behave toward ourselves. 

A fantastic place to start is: do the exact OPPOSITE of what those losers did. Especially when you’re frustrated with or otherwise feeling negatively toward yourself. 

This is how we build a realistic recovery. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Just “reach out,” oh really?

You’re going to be told to “reach out,” that trauma “only” heals in “safe relationships.” 

I understand why this is said. 

And, I think that dramatically oversimplifies things for many trauma survivors. 

It’s true that safe, stable relationships can help us regulate our nervous system. 

It’s true that safe relationships now can support us in healing the damage done by unsafe relationships in the past. 

But it’s also true that “reaching out” is not simple or easy for many trauma survivors. 

The truth about trauma recovery that many people dislike talking about is, many survivors are STILL not in safe situations. 

Many survivors reading this don’t actually HAVE safe connections they can realistically reach out to today, even if they wanted to. 

The world often treats survivors’ reluctance to “reach out” as a manifestation of their trauma symptoms, and sometimes it is— but very often “reaching out” is just not that straightforward. 

When therapists and others state that “trauma only heals in safe relationships,” that can lead survivors to whom safe relationships are not currently accessible to believe there’s no point in even trying to develop trauma recovery tools. 

The trauma recovery community is not good at supporting survivors who are not in a position to “reach out” or who have legitimate reasons to limit their reliance on other people right now. 

Of course I’d prefer every survivor feel realistically able to reach out— and I’d prefer if safe relationships were realistically available to every survivor reading this. 

And, I know that’s a fantasy. 

We, the trauma recovery community, need to get better at supporting survivors whose healing for whatever reason right now isn’t going to involve many other people. 

If you’re in the position where you simply can’t safely or reliably involve other people in your healing, you need to know you’re not screwed. 

You can still develop recovery tools that help soothe, ground, and regulate your brain, nervous system, endocrine system, and your physical body. 

You can still do trauma processing work— though doing it on your own is obviously going to require you to be realistic about risks, safety, and pacing. 

I want everyone to have safe relationships available to them as a healing tool, including a safe therapy relationship with a competent, trauma informed therapist. That would be my ideal world. 

We do not live in that world. 

So don’t feel bad if “reach out” is advice that makes you despair— or infuriates you. 

Some of us understand it’s not that simple— and that it’s not your fault that it’s not that simple. 

Just do what you can with what you have, today. 

Easy does it. 


Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

CPTSD doesn’t have to mean anything about us.

The fact that you were abused or neglected means literally nothing about you. 

It means things about the people who should have cared for you. 

It may mean things about the environment or community you grew up in. 

But it doesn’t mean anything about you. 

We trauma survivors are really good at assuming our abuse or neglect mean things about us— mostly negative things. 

We assume it “means” we were unloveable. 

We assume it “means” we were unimportant. 

We assume it “means” we cannot go on to live a normal or happy life. 

The fact is, just because the people who should have loved us, didn’t, doesn’t mean we’re “unloveable”— it means there was some deficit on their part. Not ours. 

Just because the people who should have prioritized us, didn’t, doesn’t mean we were “unimportant”— it means those people failed. Not us. 

And because we were hurt in the past, does not mean our future is set in stone. 

It means we have wounds to heal. Patterns to unwind and recondition. 

No more; no less. 

Our trauma does not mean what we think it means. What we were conditioned to believe it means. 

It does not mean we are cooked. 

It does not mean life is meaningless and the world is only dark. 

It does not mean we are helpless in the face of emotional dysregulation and trauma memories. 

Nothing about CPTSD or CPTSD recovery is “easy”— but we are not stuck with what we were handed in life. 

The facts of our past are the facts. 

But the meanings we attach to those facts are more up to us than we realized. 

drglenndoyle

What “they” see is not the whole story of your CPTSD recovery.

What people see of our CPTSD recovery in public is only going to be a teeny, tiny percentage of the real story. 

The real story of trauma recovery happens in private. 

Private moments of doubt. 

Private moments of pain. 

Private moments of really, really wanting to hurt ourselves. 

Private moments of wanting to give up. 

Navigating those hard private moments, day after day and, especially, night after night— that’s what CPTSD recovery is really all about. 

The stuff other people see— us looking better, functioning better, showing up, engaging more— that stuff is all kind of gravy. 

For that matter, many of us survivors have lots of practice doing all that public stuff, even when we’re circling the drain. 

The truth is, nobody really knows how we’re leveraging our tools. 

How we’re talking to ourselves. 

How we’re using our mental focus. What we’re visualizing. The mental safe spaces we’ve created for ourselves, our “parts,” and our inner child. 

Nobody knows how we’re relating to our body and using our breathing to stay grounded and soothe ourselves. 

Only we know the full story. 

Only we know how hard we’re working. 

Only we know the real journey we’ve been on— and what point on that journey our current state represents. 

Don’t confuse what other people see with what’s really going on. 

They won’t see it all. 

They probably won’t see the most important aspects of our CPTSD recovery. 

But those milestones really, really f*cking matter. 

Whether or not I, personally, can see them,  I want you to know I understand how much work is happening beneath the surface. 

And I want you to know how overwhelmingly proud of you I am. 

That’s true whether or not I personally know you. 

Even if I don’t know you— I know you. 

We’re all in the same fight tonight. 

Keep on keeping on. 

Breathe; blink; focus— one minute at a time.  

drglenndoyle

We need support when we’re struggling, not judgment.

When we’re triggered, we need support, not shame. 

We certainly don’t need to shame ourselves for struggling. 

But— that’s what many of us have been programmed to do. 

We’ve been conditioned to lead off with telling ourselves all the reasons why we “shouldn’t” be triggered. 

To tell ourselves all the reasons why this trigger “isn’t a big deal.” 

We’ve been programmed to invalidate our reactions, our feelings, and our needs— and for that to be our reflexive FIRST take when we get triggered. 

Many survivors are profoundly embarrassed that we even get triggered. 

We’ve been told over and over again, that we’re “safe now,” that a trigger is “from the past” ad therefore “shouldn’t” be evoking the reaction it is. 

Okay— let’s say for a moment that’s true. Maybe we’re having a reaction to something that is NOT right here, right now— what are we supposed to do with this understanding? 

The fact is, we’re still reacting. 

We’re still being flooded with feelings and memories. 

Our nervous system is still melting the f*ck down. 

Do we really think all that’s going to halt the minute we accept that we “shouldn’t” be having the reaction? 

I’ll tell you what happens far more often: we tell ourselves we “shouldn’t” behaving this reaction— and then not only do we have the ongoing trauma response to contend with, but we have an extra layer of guilt for experiencing something that we’ve decided is invalid. 

Don’t do that to yourself. 

The truth is, if we’re having a reaction, that reaction IS proportionate to SOMETHING— even if it doesn’t happen to be something right here, right now. 

Our triggers reflect our wounds, and our trauma responses reflect our needs. 

Both our wounds and needs are valid. 

Neither our wounds or needs disappear because we don’t want to deal with them or because we’re embarrassed by them. 

If we try to deny or disown our wounds and needs, guess what happens? They grow. 

Ignore a wound, it festers. It gets infected. What was a wound that was painful turns into a systemic threat, maybe even to our life. 

Ignore a need, it gets more urgent. It becomes harder to ignore. It grows to the point where it WILL commandeer our attention, whether or not we want it to. 

Remember: trauma responses are not “choices.” 

There is nothing shameful about experiencing trauma responses, any more than it’s “shameful” to experience the reflex of pulling our hand away from a hot stove. 

Our nervous system is designed to keep us alive— and if we’re fighting, fleeing, fawning, freezing, or flopping in response to a trigger, it’s because some “part” of us honestly believes that’s what we have to do to keep on keeping on. 

We need support in those moments, not judgment. 

Just like broken limbs need X-rays and a cast, not to “try harder” to flex. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Experiencing anger doesn’t make you an “angry person.” But denying and disowning it…

You’re going to hear it said that anger is just “sadness’s bodyguard”— but I don’t believe that. 

I believe that anger, while it frequently occurs alongside sadness, is its own thing— as real and valid and independent as any experience, emotional or otherwise. 

Remember that anger evolved for a reason. 

The cave-people who could get angry when other cave-people tried to encroach upon their territory and steal their mates and wooly mammoths and stuff, had a survival advantage over those cave-people who couldn’t. 

Anger, evolutionarily speaking, gives us a rush of focus and energy to defend our territory. 

Anger is important. Anger is valid. Anger matters. 

It it sometimes the case that our anger in a specific situation is actually about a different situation, maybe from the past? Sure— but that doesn’t make it invalid. 

The worst thing we can do for and with our anger is to dismiss it as nothing more than the “bodyguard” of another feeling. 

Anger, properly understood and responsibly managed, can be one of our most important trauma recovery tools. 

Of course, denied, disowned, misunderstood, and mismanaged, our anger can be as destructive to us as our abusers’ anger was back then. 

That’s why it’s so important that we take time to understand, validate, and manage our anger— precisely so we DON’T become our abusers in how we react (instead of respond) to our anger. 

Sometimes I get sh*t for being pro-anger— but I don’t know what to tell you. Anger is as important and valid as anything else we can experience. 

Meeting our anger with denial or shame is psychologically and even physically harmful to us. 

I recommend meeting anger just like we meet anything and everything else in trauma recovery: with compassion, patience, realism, and respect. 

Experiencing anger doesn’t make you an “angry person.” 

But denying and disowning your anger probably will.