drglenndoyle

Trigger me this, Batman.

Not feeling heard or accurately understood can be a particularly intense trigger for many CPTSD survivors. 

Many of us grew up feeling invisible— or, worse, visible, but disregarded. 

Many of us grew up with people making all kinds of erroneous assumptions about what we’re thinking, who we are, what we need. 

Even now, some of us experience difficulty expressing ourselves, which can lead to others misunderstanding us— or, worse, feeling angry or hurt because of something we said or how we said it. 

All of this means that our nervous system is very sensitive to those feelings— feeling unheard or misunderstood. 

Our traumatized nervous system is all about sounding the alarm when something feels off. 

And our nervous system isn’t particularly shy or subtle about it, either. 

The classic trio of CPTSD triggers are feeling trapped, controlled, or in trouble— but feeling unheard or misunderstood are right up there, too. 

All this matters because it goes to the most effective strategy for soothing and managing our feelings when we’re activated. 

A really useful Recovery Supporting Question (RSQ) tends to be, “What’s getting triggered right now— trapped, controlled, in trouble, unseen, misunderstood?” 

If we can think to ask that RSQ, almost always we can strategize around what we’re experiencing— as opposed to randomly throwing coping skills at it. 

When we’re triggered by feeling unheard or misunderstood, it’s often a young “part” that’s hurting. 

It’s often— not always, but often— a “part” of us that “holds” memories and feelings associated with feeling uncared for, unimportant, or abandoned once upon a time. 

Whatever “part” of us is stinging, we need to meet it with compassion and patience in those moments. 

Getting triggered is not our fault. Trauma responses are not choices. 

But we DO have choices once we realize what’s going on— specifically, choices in how to talk to ourselves, how to direct our mental focus or “spotlight,” and what to do with our physiology, specifically how to breathe. 

Triggers happen. Don’t shame yourself and don’t overthink it. 

Breathe; blink; focus; and remember what the most common triggers are. 

Then ask yourself what a kid who was experiencing those emotions might need from a consistent, gentle adult right now. 

Easy, easy does it. 

drglenndoyle

Complex trauma and complex healing.

If trauma recovery were simple or easy, a matter of “just do (whatever),” we would have done it already. Multiple times, for that matter. 

The fact that most of us have multiple false starts in trauma recovery, or we make some progress and then backslide, or we struggle to identify a realistic starting point— that’s not due to our “weakness” or “stupidity” or “laziness.” Truly. 

That’s due to the fact that our wounds are deep and real, and require a thoughtful recovery blueprint to heal. 

Not only are our CPTSD wounds deep and real, but they go beyond symptoms that have anything overtly to do with our trauma. 

Many survivors don’t even realize that it’s CPTSD they’re struggling with, because what they’re experiencing doesn’t seem directly related to their past. 

Many CPTSD symptoms hook into our beliefs about who we are, what we’re all about, and what the world and other people are all about— and they can masquerade as thoughts and beliefs that are completely removed from anything we’ve ever experienced. 

Often, CPTSD presents as difficulty with executive functioning— making decisions, following through, staying motivated. 

CPTSD can present as anxiety and paralysis around money and finances. 

CPTSD can present as sexual dysfunction. 

CPTSD can present as social anxiety. 

CPTSD can present as anxiety related to something as random as driving or talking on the phone. 

Many survivors look at that array of symptoms and they think, “Okay, even if I DO have trauma in my past, surely THOSE things have nothing to do with it. I just need to get my sh*t together, right? I just need to be an adult and FUNCTION, right?” 

If only it were that simple. 

One of the things that makes complex trauma “complex” is the fact that the connections between what happened to us and what we experience as survivors isn’t straightforward or static. 

A consequence of this is, there aren’t one-stop answers or modalities that “fix” every CPTSD symptom we have— and, to make the waters even muddier, sometimes we can do a meaningful chunk of trauma processing and resolve certain things about our past…but then return to many of these symptoms that we’ve developed in the years since our trauma. 

I know I sound like a broken record when I keep saying trauma recovery is largely about life management, but it is. 

Trauma processing is important, what actually happened to us matters. 

But it also really, really matters how we’re taking care of ourselves now— how we’re talking to ourselves now, how we’re leveraging our mental focus now, how we’re managing our physiology now. 

The quality of our trauma recovery is the quality of our relationship with ourselves. 

And the quality of our relationship with ourselves is the quality of our consistent, realistic self-care. 

CPTSD resists simplistic “just do (whatever)” solutions because it manifests in dozens of ways, in multiple life domains. 

And yes: this can feel overwhelming. 

That’s not about you. That’s about the scope and complexity of the task. 

And it’s also why I keep repeating: come on back to basics, every day. Your 1% “nudge” goals revolving around self talk, mental focus, and physiology— i.e., your relationship with yourself. 

Trauma recovery is real and doable. 

But only if we expand our understanding of how CPTSD can manifest— while at the same time simplifying and concretizing how we meet it, day by day, hour by hour. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

And identify the next recovery supporting micro choice. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery is a no-bullsh*t zone.

Realistic trauma recovery is mostly about not bullsh*tting ourselves. 

Because Trauma Brain is real good at getting us to bullsh*t ourselves. 

We bullsh*t ourselves about the fact we do “everything” wrong or bad. 

Sometimes we bullsh*t ourselves about how something is “fine.” 

Sometimes we even bullsh*t ourselves about not needing to work on something or improve at something. 

As a rule, if we’re leaning toward bullsh*t, either in telling ourselves we’re awesome at everything or we suck at everything, we’re off track in our trauma recovery. 

One of the biggest barges of bullsh*t Trauma Brain— the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers— shovels at us is about how EVERYTHING is our fault, and EVERYTHING is our responsibility. 

That’s just not true. 

It’s also patently untrue that we’re at fault or responsible for other peoples’ choices— including our abusers’ choices to hurt us. 

We absolutely DO have choices in trauma recovery— but that DOESN’T mean we were abused or neglected because we made poor choices in the past. 

But Trauma Brain will push that load of bullsh*t, every day. 

And we often run with it, because the alternative can feel so powerless. 

Put another way: we figure that if we truly did nothing to “attract” or “allow” our abuse, if we truly had no control over it, that means we were powerless— and we might be powerless now over certain things, too. 

Our traumatized nervous system HATES that. 

So it tells us a story about how we we could have avoided it. How we could have escaped, fought back, done or said something to make it stop or not happen. 

It’s bullsh*t. 

(Someone’s going to argue in the comments about that one, and you’re entitled to your feelings— but in my book, any version of “we are responsible for our abuse” is bullsh*t. Your mileage may vary.)

Not bullsh*tting ourselves takes courage. 

Not bullsh*tting ourselves takes persistence. 

Not bullsh*tting ourselves takes energy. 

Most of us would MUCH rather just run with Trauma Brain’s bullsh*t than push back against it every day— because, as painful as Trauma Brain bullsh*t is, we’re utterly unsure what the world might look like if that bullsh*t turned out to be, well, bullsh*t. 

If we’re serious about trauma recovery, we have to take that risk. 

We have to consider the idea that what we’ve believed and felt to be true about how much we suck, how at fault we are, how everything is our fault and everything is our responsibility…is bullsh*t. 

None of that means we don’t have choices or responsibilities in trauma recovery. You bet your ass we do. 


But if we’re going to make those choices well and take those responsibilities seriously, we have to get real. 

We have to see and smell Trauma Brain’s bullsh*t for what it is. 

It’s bullsh*t that feels “right,” mostly because it’s familiar. 

But it’s not about reality— it’s about our bullies and abusers still making us feel like garbage inside our own head and heart, sometimes years after we’ve left them behind. 

I, personally, am over letting them have a vote in what I believe or how I feel. 

So: activate the anti-bullsh*t measures in your head and heart. 

That space is a no-bullsh*t zone. 

Replace the bullsh*t with realism and self-compassion. 

Our abusers would HATE that. 

drglenndoyle

Giving ourselves credit, instead of sh*t.

Giving yourself credit will not make you complacent. Really it won’t. 

Trauma survivors often struggle with giving ourselves credit, because we don’t want to lose our edge. 

We get worried that if we actually acknowledge when we do something well, we might get cocky— and then the sh*t will hit the fan, when our guard is down. 

We don’t believe this out of nowhere. Many of us have had experiences that reinforced for us that constant, constant vigilance was incredibly necessary to stay safe. 

We didn’t have time to sit around and pat ourselves on the back. We had to stay sharp. We had to watch for the next threat, be prepared for the next challenge. 

Add to that the fact that many of us were taught that giving ourselves credit was a form of “egotism” or “arrogance” that we have to stay away from if we want to be a “good” person. 

We were taught that it was unacceptable to even think nice thoughts about ourselves at all, let alone give ourselves actual credit for doing something well or right. 

According to our programming, if we start thinking nice things about ourselves, we’re just ASKING for the universe to step in and remind us that we’re not, actually, “good.” That we don’t, actually, deserve good things to happen to us. 

Trauma recovery asks us to step back and be realistic about where all this programming comes from. 

By and large, this conditioning comes from people and institutions that benefitted from us never cutting ourselves any slack, never giving ourselves credit, never giving ourselves a break. 

These people and institutions want us walking around feeling guilty, disempowered, insecure, and uncertain. 

It makes us easier to control.

It makes us easier to sell stuff to. 

And it makes us less likely to speak up about bad stuff that’s happened to us.

The reality is, in working with hundreds of CPTSD survivors, I’ve never once met one whose main problem was that they were too easy on themsevles, or that they gave themselves too much credit. 

I HAVE worked with dozens and dozens of survivors who did not feel they could make a “good” decision, under any circumstances— so they constantly undermined themselves, reversed themselves, or got so stuck in decision paralysis that they lost the chance to actually choose. 

It’s true that neither you nor I make EVERY decision well. 

But it’s also true that our decision making is almost always a mixed bag— which does include some competent, effective, values-congruent decisions alongside the stinkers. 

Giving ourselves credit for decisions we make well and things we do right matters, because realistic trauma recovery requires us to solidify and deepen our self-trust and self-esteem. 

Our “parts” are counting on us to listen to them and keep them safe— and they’re not going to buy into our ability to do either if we’re constantly doubting and trashing ourselves in our own head. 

We do not have to fall into the toxic positivity trap of telling ourselves EVERY decision we make or EVERYTHING we do is awesome. That’s delusional, and trauma recovery is almost entirely organized around realistically seeing what we see and knowing what we know. 

What we have to do, is be real with ourselves. 

Giving ourselves credit will not make us vulnerable in the way we’ve been conditioned to believe it will. 

It will not make us “arrogant” or “cocky.” 

Giving ourselves realistic credit will point us to our strengths— yes, believe it or not, you have strengths, right here, right now— and help us understand where we get stuck, where we miss things, where we need to pay extra attention. 

Giving yourself credit will not get you into trouble. 

Not with anyone who realistically supports your trauma recovery, anyway. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

And give yourself a break and a pat on the back today. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery and performative bullsh*t.

A vital part of realistic trauma recovery is avoiding performative bullsh*t. 

Because you’re going to run into a LOT of performative bullsh*t out there. 

Much of that performative bullsh*t is being performed by people who say they’re working a trauma recovery or an addiction recovery— but you wouldn’t know that by their “performance.” 

Recovery really is not about performing. It’s not about looking good. 

Because if we’re honest, there are going to be many points in this recovery journey where we don’t look all that good. 

There are going to be MANY points in our trauma recovery journey where we don’t look like we know what we’re doing. 

There are going to be many points in our trauma recovery where we look kind of lost. 

MANY points in our recovery where we’re going to look cringey. Awkward as hell. 

Not every moment in this journey is going to be picture perfect or Instagram worthy— and you know what? That’s okay. 

In fact, that’s more than okay— that’s kind of important. 

Guess how much actual progress we’d make in trauma recovery if only the picturesque moments “counted?” 

“Not much,” is the answer. 

I’ve made the most progress in my own recovery when I’ve been trying new sh*t (or, at least, new-to-me sh*t)…and I’ll spoil the suspense, I, like everybody else, do not look cool when I’m trying out new sh*t. 

I look like I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m not good at it yet— because guess what, that’s exactly what’s going on. 

Trauma recovery asks us to experiment with some radically new-to-us sh*t. 

It asks us to talk to ourselves in ways we are just not used to. 

It asks us to take control of our mental focus, our internal “spotlight,” in ways we were never taught how. 

It asks us to be aware of and leverage our breathing and physiology in ways that, I promise you, will feel awkward and weird and unsustainable at first. 

All of that feels and looks awkward until we get some serious practice at it— and even then, it’s going to look awkward for awhile. 

But that’s kind of the point: we are not doing this to create Instagram-worthy moments of triumph and grace. 

We are doing this “trauma recovery” thing to save and enhance our life. 

We aren’t doing this to impress anyone. 

We MIGHT be doing this “trauma recovery” thing to spite someone, at least a little— but that’s not quite the same thing. 

Performative bullsh*t will kneecap our recovery. 

It’ll distract us. It’ll have us trying to look cool on the outside, rather than focusing on the changes we’re trying to make on the inside. 

That’s not to say we shouldn’t be proud of our observable progress. We should. I like it when I make progress that other people can see, and it’s okay if you like it too. 

But remember that looking cool, when it happens, is kind of a bonus. 

Also remember that the first realistic step toward being good at something is sucking at something. You gotta start somewhere to get somewhere. 

When in doubt, skip the performative bullsh*t, either on the internet or in real life. 

And always prioritize advice from people who have made significant, sustainable changes in their life over time— whether or not their recovery is aesthetically pleasing for inspo-posting. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Codependence and spontaneous combustion.

One of the main reasons we keep doing that f*cked up codependent dance with certain others in our lives is because “part” of us truly believes it’s necessary for safety or survival. 

Codependence is frequently rooted in the “fawn” trauma response. 

Our nervous system believes that if we aren’t who “they” want or need us to be, we’re in danger. 

It’s not that we “choose” it, exactly. 

It’s more that we don’t know how to not do it. 

We don’t know how to tolerate the anxiety that would come with not doing it. 

We may not even know who we are if we didn’t do it. 

The reality is, our identity is very often entwined with who we are to and with others. 

For example, many of our beliefs about who are are are overwhelmingly influenced by who our parents and family believe we are. 

Even now, the easiest way to evoke an emotional flashback in me is to toss me back into a situation with my family of origin— my nervous system, my personality reflexes, even my physiology will start responding to who I was to and with them, decades ago. 

We don’t choose those intellectual and emotional and behavioral reflexes, any more than we “choose” any other trauma responses. 

And breaking out of those codependent loops requires a ton of effort, because it requires us to tolerate a ton of anxiety. 

“Anxiety” kind of undersells it, actually. “Doom-certianty” is closer. 

Our nervous system and “parts” truly believe that certain doom is imminent, if we opt out of those old interpersonal patterns. 

The thing is: it’s not. 

No one has ever spontaneously combusted beucase they opted out of a codependent dynamic, choose not to be who someone else expected them to be. 

We’ll survive opting out of a codependent dance, at least physically. Our anxiety might try to convince us otherwise, but we will. 

And but also, the fact that we’ll survive physically doesn’t speak to what the person we refused to “dance” with might say or do. 

They might, in fact, try to make us feel guilty. Or wrong. Or selfish. 

And, yes: they might try to damage us socially, for the “sin” of abandoning our codependent dance with them. 

I’ll never be flippant about the real costs of opting out of a codependent “dance” with someone who has relative influence in our life. It might not be pretty. 

But you know what else isn’t pretty? Feeling trapped in a self-defeating “dance” with someone we may not even like, just because we’ve been conditioned to keep the beat. 

That’s not pretty for our self-esteem, our values, or our goals— you know, those things that define our trauma recovery. 

No— codependent patterns are not a “choice.” 

But breaking out of them has to be. 

And of course, choices do have consequences— but not all of those consequences are bad. 

Some of them can be quite liberating, even if others mean them to be destructive. 

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,” as Ms. Joplin reminds us. 

drglenndoyle

Here’s to your edge.

It comes as a surprise to some trauma survivors working our recovery that this process is not all, or even mostly, love and light. 

Yes, we tend to get “happier” the further we get into our trauma recovery (though that word, “happiness,” has a lot of nuance to it that trauma recovery requires us to unpack). 

But it’s not the case that trauma recovery changes our personality such that we walk around cheerful and smiling all the time. 

Maybe we do, if that’s part of our personality to begin with— but it’s my experience that many trauma survivors come with an edge. 

Does that edge have a lot to do with what we’ve been through? Sure, it can. 

And but also, sometimes we just come with an edge as part of who we are. 

We don’t have to give up that edge in order to recover. 

I know survivors who shy away from the concept of recovery because it’s too “positive.” It doesn’t feel authentic to who they are. 

What I tell them is that the trauma recovery that will be realistic and sustainable for you HAS to reflect who you are. 

Maybe this means your recovery isn’t sunshine and rainbows. 

Maybe it means your recovery is more moonlight and shadow. 

I know my recovery has plenty of darkness. 

We confuse “darkness” and “shadow” with “badness” or even “evil”— but they’re really not the same. 

Carl Jung maintained that evil wasn’t about our shadow, per se— it was about our refusal to meet our shadow. 

And that’s actually what trauma recovery is REALLY all about: meeting our shadow, with realism and compassion. 

What is our shadow? It’s all that pain we carry. It’s all the old patterns we carry, that were conditioned in us by our bullies and abusers, and which we carry forward driven by Trauma Brain. 

Trauma recovery can have very different tones or “flavors,” depending on who a survivor is as a person— but one thing EVERY successful trauma recovery has in common is, it supports us in meeting our shadow in a way we can tolerate. 

Conversely: rejecting our shadow, or the “parts” of us that hold and manage our shadow, can be enormously destructive. 

Many survivors get confused when the word “integration” is thrown around in trauma recovery discussions. Some erroneously believe that “integration” means “banishing” those “dark” parts of us, and embracing only the “light.” 

Nothing could be further from the truth. 

True “integration” isn’t about “banishing,” or shaming, or abandoning, ANY “part” of us, ever. 

We need our shadow, and we need our darker “parts.” 

In recovery we don’t have to meet ANYONE’S standards or expectations about who we “should” be— light or dark, cheerful or contemplative.

In fact, in trauma recovery it’s real important we NOT try to become someone we’re not. 

So: if your darkness or your edge is a load bearing personality trait, let it be. 

In fact, thank it and celebrate it. 

But most importantly, acknowledge it, explore it— don’t neglect or reject it. 

Here’s to your edge. 

drglenndoyle

Our abusers were not “strong” or “powerful.”

Many of us remember our bullies or abusers as larger than life. 

That has nothing to do with how big or powerful they actually were. 

It has everything to do with how vulnerable and powerless we felt— how vulnerable and powerless we were made to feel. 

The reality is, abusing or bullying someone doesn’t make someone “strong” or “powerful.” 

Some of us had abusers who were respected or celebrated by the community around them. 

Some of us had abusers who were objectively “powerful,” at least as far as cultural norms go. 

But the fact that they abused us tells the truth: they were not “strong.” 

Abuse is a behavior perpetrated by weak people. 

I don’t care if our abusers were staples of the community of the church. 

I don’t care if they will go down as relatively “powerful” people among the people who knew them. 

They were weak. 

And their “achievements” do not make up for what they did. 

Sometimes we survivors can get up in our heads about the fact that our abusers were “complicated”— and I can heavily identify with this. My father was more complicated than most. 

And, the fact that he was complicated does not take away from the fact that his hurtful behavior made him weak. 

There is nothing in abusive behavior that contributes positively to anyone’s legacy. 

There are plenty of “complicated” people in history who have not harmed other people. 

You and I can’t crawl inside the head of the people who abused us, so we’ll never quite know what their deal is. 

We can speculate all day about who they “really” are or were, but in the end, we’d just be guessing. 

Which is all for the best, because to be hoenst, I don’t especially are. 

There’s nothing I could learn about an abuser’s inner world that would make what they do acceptable. 

Even as a psychologist, someone who is utterly fascinated by the human mind and human motivation, I just don’t care. 

Abusers are weak. 

No matter how “powerful” the world may pretend they are, they are weak. 

No matter how “strong” they pretend to be, they are weak. 

Survivors are strong. 

Survivors are brave. 

Survivors working our recovery are worthy. 

And survivors working our recovery are the reason why the world continues to contain humanity and grace. 

That’s what I think, anyway. 

drglenndoyle

Give it time. No, actually.

When I say “give it time,” I don’t mean “time heals everything.” 

In point of fact, I don’t really believe time, by itself, “heals” much of anything. 

In fact, in my experience, time can make some things much worse. 

If we break a bone, and don’t get it properly set or casted, time is going to make it worse. 

If we have a progressive illness and don’t get the appropriate care for it, it’s going to get worse. 

If we experience trauma and do not have the safety or support to contextualize and cope with it, its symptoms are going to get much worse, not better, with time. 

I suppose it’s true that sometimes the passing of time can seem to dull pain or mask how bad it is in some ways. 

Not thinking about trauma, for example, is sometimes easier in the short term. 

Pretending it didn’t exist can feel easier in the short term. 

Telling other people we’re “fine” may feel easier in the short term. 

But as time passes, and we fail to give our trauma wounds and our “parts” the attention and care they need, those wounds are only going to deepen. 

One reason why so many survivors get to thinking that their trauma symptoms are their personality, is because those wounds have gone untreated for so long, that they develop quirks and habits around them— but that’s like saying “limping” is part of someone’s personality when they’ve hurt their leg. 

So, no: there’s no magic to the passage of time. 

But it is true that the things we need to do to heal our trauma DO take time. 

Learning to effectively leverage the three basic tools of trauma recovery— self-talk, mental focus, and physiology— absolutely takes time. 

After all, we did not develop these patterns of talking to ourselves, directing our mental “spotlight,” and breathing and posture and physical tension management, overnight. Our patterns have been overrehearsed, conditioned. 

Undoing those patterns involves literally, physically rewiring neural pathways in our brain and body— and that absolutely takes time. 

Moreover, we survivors tend to want what we want, when we want it. 

We have Trauma Brain telling us that we’ve “wasted” too much time already, that we don’t have time to be “patient” or “realistic” like that dork on the internet keeps saying. 

We trauma survivors also tend to think in black and white terms, so when we try to change something and it doesn’t immediately “go,” the internal backlash and discouragement can be overwhelming. 

That is to say: we might need to be reminded every now and then to give this process of “recovery” time. 

I don’t mean just let time pass. 

I mean work your recovery, every day. 

I mean define your teeny, tiny, baby step, .01% recovery goals, every day. 

I mean nudge, nudge, nudge toward meaningful change in how you use your self-talk, mental focus, and physiology, every day. 

Give it time— but use that time. 

It’s sometimes said that time is like money. We can spend it, or we can invest it. 

I recommend investing your time— intelligently, conservatively, self-compassionately. 

I guarantee the time you invest really working your recovery will support your wounds in healing much faster than time you just let pass. 

And it definitely beats letting time pass and letting our trauma wounds just fester. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Real trauma recovery is life management and enhancement.

Trauma is not the only problem of anyone reading this. 

Many people reading this have problems that relate to our trauma history and symptoms. 

And, we also have other problems. Other things that get in the way of creating the life we want. 

Realistic trauma recovery needs to help us with those problems, too— which can be counterintuitive. 

After all, why should trauma recovery have anything to do with our non-trauma problems? 

Because trauma interacts with a “spikes” our non-trauma problems in specific ways. 

Put another way: not every problem in our life is the result of trauma— but trauma amplifies every problem in our life, regardless of its origin or nature. 

I wish we could compartmentalize our problems and pain— but we can’t. That’s not how problems OR trauma work. 

How does trauma amplify or “spike” our other problems? 

By hijacking our focus. 

By poisoning our self-talk. 

By wrecking our physical energy. 

By smothering our body image. 

By making every relationship, personal or professional, a powder keg ready to blow. 

Remember that the essence of CPTSD is that it’s trauma that worms its way into our beliefs about ourselves, almost into our very personality. 

(I say “almost”— it’s real important to remember that CPTSD is NOT our personality, no matter how it might masquerade as our “true self” sometimes.) 

That means that we carry our trauma wounds into every situation in our life. 

Unfortunately, our trauma wounds do NOT stay confined to situations or triggers that directly relate to what actually happened to us.

To realistically account for this, our trauma recovery needs to include strategies for self-talk, mental focus, and physiology— especially our breathing— that steady and center us in every situation, not just situations that may involve specific trauma triggers. 

A misstep I frequently see survivors working their recovery make is thinking that they can go on autopilot in situations that don’t directly scrape up trauma triggers or memories. 

Believe me when I tell you that going on autopilot as a trauma survivor is the surest way to let Trauma Brain drive you right into the ditch with shame and self-blame— and it doesn’t even need specific trauma triggers to do it. It will use whatever situation you give it, if you’re not committed to staying present and recovery-focused. 

Working our CPTSD recovery means creating a blueprint that is much broader than processing trauma or managing a handful of specific triggers. 

Working our trauma recovery really is about broad life management. “Adulting,” as many people call it. 

A truly effective trauma recovery blueprint will involve goal achievement and emotional management strategies that will support us in every situation. 

When designing your CPTSD recovery, don’t just think “what do I need to do to cope with my trauma symptoms and memories?” 

Think, “what does my overall LIFE need to be safe and happy?” 

Because that’s ultimately the project: quality of life. 

Breathe; blink; focus.