drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery is earthy work.

Here’s the thing about affirmations: if they feel fake, they can make us worse. 

That’s a tough truth, but we can’t afford to be unrealistic about it. 

I like affirmations. I think what we repeat to ourselves really matters in how we feel and function. 

But when an affirmation clashes too sharply with what we feel and believe now, our nervous system isn’t going to just accept it. 

No, what our traumatized nervous system is going to do is reject both the message and the messenger. 

Toxic positivity is more than annoying to CPTSD survivors. 

Toxic positivity can be actually triggering to CPTSD survivors. 

It triggers our bullsh*t radar. 

And our bullsh*t radar is finely tuned after years of interpersonal trauma and emotional neglect and mental abuse. 

Some people don’t love the language I use on this page— and I get it. 

They are 100% entitled to not love the language I use in discussing trauma and recovery, up to and including setting boundaries with me or my page because of it. 

Of course I understand why profanity and colloquial language trigger some survivors. No shame, no shade. 

But one of the reasons I use the language and idioms I do on this page is explicitly to avoid toxic positivity bullsh*t. 

There are some people who think ANY discussion of recovery that accompanies the discussion of trauma is “toxic positivity”— but I don’t believe that. 

I believe trauma recovery is both possible and realistically achievable for every survivor (yes, I said “every,” deal with it) reading this— IF we manage our expectations and are deliberate about our focus and language. 

That is to say: if we don’t sugar coat this sh*t. 

I’m actually not all that “profane” a person in everyday life. If anything I probably use relatively less profanity than many people. 

But when it comes to discussing both trauma and recovery, I don’t believe in candy coating. 

 I think it’s super important we avoid fluffy pop psychology tropes and fantasies. 

That’s why I keep coming back, again and again, to some unglamorous truths about recovery, such as: 

Therapy and therapists are not the be all, end all of trauma recovery. 

Most of the important trauma recovery work we’ll ever do, we do alone. 

EVERY effective trauma recovery tool is a version or combination of self talk, mental focus, and physiology— including the most appealingly branded tools, like EMDR. 

And the connections between trauma and addiction are undeniable and MUST be accounted for, in EVERY survivor’s recovery blueprint. 

I guarantee, there are survivors reading this who profoundly disagree with some or all of those points— and they’re likely piping up in the comments right now (as is is their right— God bless!). 

My thoughts on trauma recovery aren’t for everyone. 

But those who do resonate with and benefit from what I write, know that toxic positivity— including bullsh*t affirmations— don’t get us where we need to know. 

I believe in affirmations. 

But I believe in making them realistic and grounded. Gritty, if you will. 

I like my affirmations earthy because I believe trauma recovery is earthy work. 

Your mileage may vary. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Validation: the least fluffy, non-bullsh*t concept in trauma recovery.

Validating our pain can be a really tough ask for CPTSD survivors. 

Pain sucks. Why on earth would we want to “validate” it? 

Many of us were actually taught to do the exact opposite: to INVALIDATE our pain at every opportunity. 

To tell ourselves our pain doesn’t count. 

To tell ourselves our pain is “crazy.” 

To call ourselves “weak,” among other things, for even experiencing pain. 

Over and over again, we were taught to communicate to ourselves that our pain should simply not exist— and maybe WE simply should not exist if we’re experiencing pain. 

We’ve often been invalidating our own pain for so long, invalidation as our default setting can feel very “right.” Very “natural.” 

Why would we want to challenge something that feels right or natural? 

Because the truth is, our pain IS valid. 

Our pain is NOT “crazy.” 

Our pain and symptoms actually make all kinds of sense, given what we’ve been through (and that’s true whether we happen to completely or coherently remember all we’ve been through or not). 

If we consistently communicate to ourselves that we “shouldn’t” be feeling or responding the way we are, that we are “crazy” or “weak” for doing so, not only are we lying to ourselves— but we’re doing our abusers’ and bullies’ dirty work for them, in our own head. 

The truth is that strong, smart people experience pain. 

There is nothing about the pain you or I are experiencing that actually means we’re “crazy” or “weak.” 

Our pain means we’re injured. Not “weak” or “crazy.” 

Why does how we talk to ourselves about or own pain matter? 

Because we are not particularly motivated to actually heal pain that we decide is “crazy” or otherwise invalid. 

Telling ourselves our pain doesn’t make sense and shouldn’t exist just leads us to try to “stuff” it, or ignore it, or maybe try to pressure or punish ourselves into not feeling it. 

I probably don’t have to tell you how well that works. 

Leading off with validation, though— telling ourselves ourselves the truth, that our pain represents an injury— gets us feeling and responding to our pain differently. 

Injuries and wounds very often heal, with the appropriate care and support. 

Validating our pain as an injury or a wound, rather than dismissing it as “crazy” or evidence of “weakness,” opens us up to realistic healing— and keeps us from needlessly, pointlessly beating ourselves up over being hurt in the first place. 

Validation is not some warm and fuzzy, pop psychology bullsh*t. 

It is a practical, essential tool in sustainable trauma recovery. 

Your pain is valid and you are valid. 

No matter how familiar or pervasive that “you suck” programming feels as you read this. 

drglenndoyle

You don’t have to hate yourself.

You don’t have to hate yourself. 

I know, that sounds obvious, right? 

Not to CPTSD survivors it’s not. 

We are very often conditioned to hate ourselves. 

And distrust ourselves. 

And hurt ourselves. 

When I say we are “conditioned,” what I mean is, we are not making a “choice.” 

We have been programmed. Trained. 

Most of us don’t even realize what’s happening inside our head and heart— all we know is, we f*cking hate ourselves. 

We wouldn’t hold anyone else to the standards we hold ourselves to. 

We wouldn’t talk to anyone else like we talk to ourselves in our own head. 

We wouldn’t punish anyone else for simply existing and breathing and taking up space, he way we punish ourselves. 

Why do we hate ourselves so much? 

Because the experiences that evoke CPTSD often leave us feeling like it was our fault. 

And, not for nothing, we’re often TOLD it was our fault. 

We walk away from those experiences believing we are unworthy. 

We walk away from those experiences feeling incompetent. 

Abuse, neglect, and coercive control— the experiences most often associated with CPTSD— often just shred our self-esteem beyond anything recognizable by non-survivors. 

Sexual abuse in childhood— the experience most often associated with DID— often leaves us feeling fundamentally “gross” and unlovable and complicit. 

We don’t “ask” for any of those feelings. None of those feelings has anything to do with reality. 

But all we know is, we arrive in adulthood just seething at ourselves.

Sometimes it’s so bad we can’t even look at ourselves in the mirror or stand to hear our voice on a recording. 

That’s where we are. It’s not where we “should” be; but it’s where many survivors reading this start. 

Changing that— learning to not hate ourselves— starts with just introducing the simple idea: it doesn’t have to be this way. 

We don’t hate ourselves because we “have” to. We hate ourselves because we’ve been trained to. 

We can unlearn what we once learned. 

Don’t get me wrong: it will take time. And patience. And persistence. And commitment. Just like every meaningful shift in realistic trauma recovery. 

Oh, it’s a massive pain in the ass. 

And but also: it’s a pain in the ass that’s worth it. 

You deserve to be on your own side. To have your own back. 

You deserve the most realistic shot at meaningful trauma recovery possible. 

And that includes not waking up and f*cking hating yourself. 

Because you don’t have to. Nothing bad will happen if you don’t. 

I promise. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery is not about “just getting by.”

Yes, I want you getting by every day. Surviving every day. 

But I want you doing more than that. 

Trauma recovery, to me, is about more than just getting by. 

It’s about realistically creating a life we don’t hate waking up to. 

Realistically creating relationships we don’t resent, with people who feel safe and who are interesting to us. 

What I think CPTSD recovery REALLY is all about is developing life skills many humans are just never taught. 

Most humans are never taught the basics of happiness. Of life satisfaction. Of realistic emotional management and goal achievement. 

Now, many humans pick these up— sort of— throughout life…if they’re not busy, you know, just f*cking surviving. 

We were busy just surviving. 

So we’re a little behind the 8 Ball. 

Our life management skills are good for, say, combat, either literal or metaphorical. 

They’re less good for, say, working a job or relating to a romantic partner. 

So— we trauma survivors have to explicitly focus on and learn things about life and self management that many other people take for granted or pick up by osmosis over time. 

There’s no denying that this sucks— but, in my view, there’s also no denying that the skills and tools we trauma survivors need to develop to claw our way out of CPTSD hell, also set us up to create and live purposeful, pleasurable lives that many other people don’t know how to create.

Put another way: what we have to do to stay alive, ultimately equips us to create a life worth staying alive for. 

A life that is more than “just getting by.” 

Why say any of this at all? 

Because I believe it’s super important to realistic trauma recovery to begin with the end in mind. 

I believe it’s important to our focus and motivation to remind ourselves that there’s more to this “recovery” thing than just staying alive. 

That promise of a better life isn’t just a fantasy. 

It follows from he fact that we have to develop certain skills, step by step, in order to do this at all— and those skills will put us ahead of others who didn’t have to learn them step by step to stay alive. 

You can believe that or not. I wouldn’t have believed it at certain points in my recovery. 

But it’s the truth. 

Don’t set the bar at “just staying alive.” 

This isn’t about survival. You’ve already survived. 

This is about realistic joy. 

What a concept. 

drglenndoyle

Second acts. Third acts. Fourth acts. More acts.

Something I strongly believe in, to the very core of my being, is that life unfolds in second, third, and fourth “acts.” 

I remember being suicidal and in very active addiction at age 20— and being firmly convinced my life had run its course. 

At age TWENTY. 

I remember thinking, I’d had my chance at adulthood— and blew it. 

I’d had my chance at love— and blew it. 

I’d had my chance at a career— and blew it. 

Again: at age twenty. 

What I didn’t know then, and I do know now, is that I had only experience one, or maybe two by that point, of the “acts” of my life. 

I didn’t realize there were more. 

Not only were there more— but my second, third, and fourth “acts” would look ridiculously different from my first couple of acts. 

At age twenty, I had no vision of being a psychologist. 

At age twenty, I had no vision of writing things for public consumption. 

At age twenty, I had no vision of supporting trauma survivors and addicts like myself create realistic recovery blueprints and make recovery supporting choices one day at a time. 

Those things, which now powerfully define me, were not even on my radar screen. 

At age twenty, I wouldn’t even meet the person I would eventually marry for another twenty six YEARS. 

At age twenty, two cats who I would come to overwhelmingly love weren’t even close to being born yet. 

I’m telling you: we don’t know where we are on our recovery, or life, arc. Even now we don’t. 

You and even I have life “acts” ahead of us that we can’t even imagine. 

You know the Twelve Step slogan, “don’t quit before the miracle?” This is what I think that slogan means: don’t assume what you’re currently thinking, feeling or doing, will be what you’re thinking, feeling, or doing indefinitely. 

Don’t assume the identity you understand as “you” today, will be “you” tomorrow. 

I understand: it’s very, very hard for survivors who are suffering to believe there can be ANYTHING positive in front of us. The phenomenon psychologists call “learned helplessness”— where we give up expecting anything to change, because nothing has ever positively changed for us in the past— kicks our ass up and down the block. 

Trauma Brain is very convincing when it tells us we have assumed our final form in how we feel and function right now. 

But we haven’t. 

Neither you nor I have assumed our final form. 

We both have life acts ahead of us. 

And if there’s any one thing I believe about the rock bottom nature of reality, it’s this: what came before can absolutely not predict what will happen next. 

You and I can and will build lives so utterly foreign to our pasts, our bullies and our abusers, it is absurd. And we will do so not by magic, but by realistic, incremental, purposeful changes to how we talk to ourselves, focus, and use our physiology. 

Trauma recovery is not magic. It is philosophy and behavioral science, and works on principles we’ve known about for centuries. 

Recovery is for you, and you are for recovery. 

You have life acts to write and perform that you’ve barely glimpsed. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

Don’t quit before the miracle. 

drglenndoyle

You are not being “punished.”

You’re not being “punished” for anything you did or anything you are. Really. 

I know: sometimes it can feel like that. 

And I know there are people reading this who vehemently disagree: they truly believe their pain IS “punishment” for something. Maybe just for existing. 

I promise: reality doesn’t work like that. 

It’s true that some people will try to control our behavior through threatened punishment. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. 

I’m talking about the fact that we can get it in our head that we “deserve” the pain we’re experiencing. 

Or that we “created” that pain. 

Or that we “allowed” that pain. 

Listen to me: you did not “deserve” to be traumatized, and you do not “deserve” to suffer now. 

The fact that Trauma Brain is insisting otherwise is an artifact of your conditioning— not reality. 

Why are we so vulnerable to that idea, that we’re being “punished” for something we did or something we are? 

Sometimes it’s because we were literally told that. 

We might have been directly told that by our bullies and abusers— but we might have also been indirectly “told” that by a culture that loves its fantasies of “nothing bad can happen to people who don’t ‘deserve’ it.” 

Our culture LOVES that particular fantasy. 

The idea that terrible things can happen to people who don’t “deserve” it, that bad things can happen to good people, leaves us feeling INCREDIBLY vulnerable. We hate it. 

So we, as a culture, invent this fantasy of somehow having “caused” or “allowed” our own pain, mostly as a way to feel less powerless. 

After all: if there actually IS rhyme or reason to this pain, if it’s our “fault,” then we’re kind of in “control” of it in a way, aren’t we? 

CPTSD survivors are particularly vulnerable to this line of bullsh*t, specifically because we hate, we hate, we HATE feeling powerless. 

We’d rather feel guilty than powerless. 

Realistic recovery asks us to give that fantasy up— which is harder than it sounds. 

Realistic recovery asks us to give up the idea that “everything happens for a reason.” 

Realistic recovery asks us to give up the idea hat we could have somehow avoided or controlled the trauma we experienced. 

Realistic recovery asks us to give up the idea that we’re being “punished.” 

Understand: we have been deeply, deeply programmed and conditioned to believe these things. Giving them up is not a one time decision. 

Rather: giving up those self-blaming ideas and fantasies is a process. 

It’s a process of notching when our old programming is activated— and intentionally, consistently scrambling it. Talking back to it. Swapping in new beliefs and self talk for the old. 

It’s a massive pain in the ass. 

And: it’s worth it. 

It’s worth it to liberate ourselves from the vicious fallacy that this is all our fault. 

No one reading this “deservers” to suffer for anything that happened TO them, or for what they didn’t know or couldn’t do in the past. 

You deserve recovery. 

You deserve support. 

You deserve to live. 

Breathe; blink; focus; and do the next recovery supporting thing. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma responses and self-sabotage.

Why do CPTSD survivors seem to self sabotage? 

Is it a deep, unconscious desire for self-harm or self-destruction? 

Eh, sometimes self-sabotage can be driven by an unconscious— or even a conscious— desire to burn ourselves…but, in my experience, that’s not what’s usually going on. 

Usually self-sabotage in CPTSD survivors is a combination of trauma responses we don’t immediately recognize as trauma responses. 

People think “fight,” “flight,” “freeze,” “fawn,” “flop,” and “f*ck” are all “obvious” behaviors that are easy to clock— but in my experience they’re often more subtle than we might realize. 

What are we doing when we self-sabotage? We’re behaving in ways that seem to undermine our values and goals, without a clear reason why or an obvious payoff. 

Sometimes that looks like not doing something we need to do to follow through on our goals. You know, like we’re “frozen.” 

Sometimes that looks like actively retreating or running away from or goals. You know, like we’re “fleeing” something associated with them. 

Sometimes self-sabotage looks like subverting our goals to someone else’s needs or expectations. You know, like we’re “fawning” to that person. 

And sometimes self-sabotage looks like just giving up on our goals in exhaustion. You know, like, just “flop.” 

Everybody reading this knows that the reactivity CPTSD conditions in our nervous system is not great for goal achievement— but we often misunderstand what’s actually happening. 

Yes, we might have mixed or negative feelings or believes about whether we “deserve’ to achieve or goals or not— but on an even more basic level, it’s often the case that we’re responding to triggers, and our nervous system is throwing up trauma responses to try to feel a little safer. 

What that means is, we don’t have to figure out or solve all our deep, unconscious self worth issues in order to significantly cut down on self sabotage. 

What we do need to do is get more nuanced about what trauma responses look like— and more specific about what we need to do when they come for us. 

Trauma responses are not “choices,” and we’re certainly not going to “willpower” our way through them to get back on track with our goals. 

To effectively manage self-sabotage patterns that are rooted in trauma responses, we need to check in with ourselves, notably our “parts” and inner child, and ask some good Recovery Supporting Questions (RSQ’s) inside. 

“What’s going on?” 

“What are you feeling?” 

“What do you need?” 

“How can I help?” 

Remember: the quality of our trauma recovery is the quality of the relationship we nurture with ourselves. 

Asking gentle, validating RSQ’s of our “parts” and inner child will engage our parasympathetic nervous system— our “rest and digest” apparatus— and begin to defuse the trauma responses that have us undercutting our own goals and values. 

When you seem to self sabotage and it seems to make no goddamn sense, get curious about what might be getting triggered right now and what trauma response patterns might, even subtly, be informing your “crazy” decisions. 

“Crazy” behavior in CPTSD often starts to make all kinds of sense when you ask RSQ’s about triggers and safety.

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Tonight’s emotional flashback.

I got sucked into an emotional flashback tonight. 

I’m packing up my apartment, preparing for a cross country move. And in doing so, I’ve been going through documents in my personal files, shredding ones that are no longer useful to keep. 

I found a bunch of documents related to one of my first jobs as a therapist, even before I was licensed, working in the private practice of my then-mentor. 

In the years since that professional relationship ended, I’ve come to believe that many aspects of it were toxic— to the point that, in retrospect, I wish I’d not chosen to work for her. 

For all she introduced me to in trauma work (she didn’t really “teach” me much, but she did provide opportunities to work with complex trauma and dissociation that few early career psychologists get), she also impeded my professional growth in multiple ways— and I’ve come to believe our dynamic on a personal level was ultimately destructive to my own trauma and addiction recovery.

That said: the relationship ended, I built my own career, and we’ve not spoken in fifteen years. Neither she, nor that early career experience, has much of anything to do with what I do now. 

Anyway, in clearing out my files tonight, I came across multiple documents that triggered not just memories of working for her— but brought my nervous system right back to patterns of feeling and responding exactly like it was 2011. 

I’ve worked hard to develop tools that help me stay out of headspace I associate with growing up— but as it turns out, it took me a minute to realize I was actually in an emotional flashback, not just experiencing memories. 

As I went through my files, I was feeling incompetent. 

I was feeling “in trouble.” 

I was feeling insecure. 

And I wanted, very very much, to salve those feelings by using substances. 

Mind you: there was no “rational” reason for why I was feeling these things. There was nothing in those files that “should” have made me feel incompetent, in trouble, insecure, or at risk of relapse. 

That’s how we know it’s a flashback, not just a memory. 

I wasn’t REMEMBERING feeling those ways. I was feeling them viscerally, here, now. 

Emotional flashbacks are real good at making us forget who we are and where we are in our recovery arc. 

It’s only when we realize what’s going on— as I finally did— that we can actually use our trauma recovery tools to reassert ourselves in the here and now. 

I used the tools we all have, the tools that I believe comprise the basics of recovery— self talk, mental focus, and physiology— to remind myself of who I am and what my life is all about. 

I sought support from people— and a cat— who know me now, who know of my life’s passion and priorities, and who could help me feel like myself again. 

I asked Recovery Supporting Questions (RSQ’s) and reviewed my Recovery Mission Statement to manage the risk of relapse in particular. 

That’s how we do this, gang. 

When we get freaked out, when a trigger hits us, we back up, we name what’s happening, and we don’t try to just “white knuckle” our way through it— we use the tools we’ve developed in working our recovery. 

Flashbacks of any kind are not fun. 

But we don’t have to just let them run their course. 

We can interrupt them, as surely as we can scratch a record or CD so it doesn’t play the same way. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

And bring it back to improving this minute by .01%. 

Your future has f*ck all to do with your past. 

Remember who the f*ck you are. 

drglenndoyle

CPTSD almost always involves relationship f*ckery.

Betrayal is almost always a part of the CPTSD wound. 

Almost always there is an element of “this person/institution/community should have taken care of me…but didn’t.” 

Many people understand that CPTSD results from trauma that was prolonged and inescapable— but, in addition to those, CPTSD almost always involves relationship f*ckery. 

Betrayal. 

Someone who should have been there…not being there. 

Someone who should have listened…not listening. 

Someone who should have put our needs ahead of theirs…choosing themselves over us. 

Trauma spiked with betrayal hits differently. 

It’s not just painful— it’s disillusioning. 

It makes us question our worth. 

It makes us question the very existence of “love.” 

(I guarantee there are survivors reading this, who are nodding their heads.) 

It’s one thing to be hurt. 

It’s something else to be hurt by someone who was supposed to have your back. 

And it’s something else as well to be hurt by someone who claimed— maybe STILL claims— to “love” you. 

Betrayal takes trauma from painful to mind f*ck. 

That’s why exposure therapy will never be enough to heal CPTSD. 

The damage wasn’t just done by a thing that happened that hurt us, that we need to “get over” being afraid of. 

The damage in CPTSD was done to our beliefs and our sense of self. 

The damage was done to our feeling of emotional and relational safety in the world— not just our sense of physical safety. 

We don’t heal hose wounds by “exposure.” 

We heal those wounds by being there for our “parts” and inner child the way we needed our parents and clergy and others to be there for us once upon a time. 

The thing that makes CPTSD particularly complicated is, we need to be for ourselves what we never saw, what we never experienced. 

We need to nurture a relationship with our own nervous system that is unlike anything we actually experienced: we need to create safety inside our head and heart. 

Tall order. 

And also, doable— if we’re willing to risk extending compassion and patience toward ourselves, one day, one hour, one minute at a time. 

To me, the backbone of realistic CPTSD recovery really is the relationship we reestablish— or maybe establish for the first time— with ourselves. 

Without that relationship, none of the tools or skills will do any good. 

We need to be on our own side in this project. 

That’s what begins healing the betrayal wound almost all of us bear. 

drglenndoyle

About that “emotional regulation” thing.

Reality check: sustainable trauma recovery does not require us to have our emotions perfectly regulated at all times. 

For all the talk about emotional regulation and dysregulation that gets thrown around in trauma treatment and recovery, you’d think the project is entirely about keeping our sh*t together emotionally. 

But the truth is, people who very much have their sh*t together when it comes to trauma recovery, can easily lose their sh*t at the right (or wrong) trigger. 

NOBODY reading this is perfectly emotionally regulated— and the person writing this is DEFINITELY not perfect when it comes to his emotional regulation. 

Realistically, we’re all going to have ebbs and flows when it comes to our emotional regulation. 

Some survivors are even under the misconception that “emotional regulation” means an utter LACK of emotional experience or expressiveness.

What we’re actually going for when we talk about emotional regulation is, we don’t want whatever we’re feeling to hijack us and drag us away from what matters in our life. 

It’s true that trauma survivors tend to be particularly sensitive overall— but many survivors actually have a whole lot of practice coping with and containing our strong feelings. 

Our problems with emotional regulation are often less about emotions themselves, and more about our attention span and skillset when it comes to functioning THROUGH strong emotions. 

Speaking for myself, I love powerful, passionate feelings. 

I think they’re the “juice” of life. I believe the only reason we do anything in life is to experience certain feelings that we like and value. 

Personally, I don’t WANT to be perfectly or robotically “regulated” emotionally. 

But I also don’t want those “juicy” emotions that I experience to bludgeon me and drag me off course when it comes to my values and goals. 

THAT is what emotional regulation in trauma recovery is actually all about: finding realistic ways to stay present and focused on our projects, no matter what we’re feeling in the moment. 

The way we do that is getting clear about how our patterns of self talk, mental focus, and physiology either do or don’t support us in functioning through strong feelings and reactions. 

There is no “magic bullet” to emotional regulation. EVERY effective emotional regulation philosophy or tool, from Dialectical Behavior Therapy to EFT tapping to Neurolinguistic Programming to mindfulness to contemplative prayer, leverages those thee basic tools: self talk, mental focus, and physiology. 

It takes patience and experimentation to figure out how specifically to use those tools inside your head and body to realistically manage what you’re feeling and stay On Purpose. 

But emotional regulation is a skill we can learn. 

We should have been safe and supported enough to learn it when we were kids— but that ship has sailed. 

No shame; not our fault. 

And also not something we’re going to let ourselves be held prisoner by for one more minute. 

Breathe; blink; focus.