drglenndoyle

Trauma weaponizes your gifts against you. It’s bullsh*t.

Here’s the thing: some of our best qualities have been turned against us by trauma. 

Our intelligence. 

Our intensity. 

Our commitment. 

Even our creativity. 

Those are great qualities. 

But when Trauma Brain gets hold of them— woof. 

Our intelligence gets used not to problem solve, but to overthink. 

Our intensity gets used not to break through, but to beat the sh*t to of ourselves. 

Our commitment gets used not to stick with our important projects, but to stick with the project of doubting and punishing ourselves. 

Our creativity gets used not to build things that enhance our lives, but to come up with ever more inventive ways to sabotage and shame ourselves. 

When Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, gets hold of our basic toolkit, we unwittingly become our own worst enemy. 

Think of trauma recovery as taking your tools back from your bullies and abusers. 

After all, there is no reason why they should have access to some of our greatest gifts, talents, and skills. 

The same tools that have been weaponized against us by our trauma can become our greatest assets in recovery. 

I’m telling you: you have more going for you than you think. 

Every personal quality that has made you miserable can contribute to getting you better. 

We have to scramble those old patterns. 

We have to understand when and how we’re using our own gifts against ourselves, and slam the brake. 

That’s not easy. That means working against patterns that have been literally carved into our brain over years. 

It’s physically painful. 

But worth it, to not participate in our own self destruction anymore. 

You are not who they think you are— you are golden. Golden. 

Here’s to remembering who the f*ck you are and not letting Trauma Brain hijack your arsenal anymore. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Start at the bottom of Maslow’s hierarchy.

Many everyday trauma recovery wins don’t have anything obvious to do with trauma. 

I was taught how to do this work by some of the most famous trauma therapists in the world, and they never taught me that. 

Many people think trauma recovery is all about processing memories and managing symptoms, and it is, at various times. 

But it’s also about ten minutes of cleaning your space.

Hell, two minutes of cleaning your space. 

It’s about checking your bank balance every day. 

It’s about eating when you’re hungry— and knowing the differences between hungry, and bored, and anxious. 

It’s about asking for help when you need it— and accepting help. 

None of that is easy. 

And all of it matters to your trauma recovery. 

I strongly, strongly believe that trauma recovery involves a whole lot of life management. 

We just don’t recover when we’re overwhelmed by the daily stuff— and the daily stuff is often the stuff we’re most reluctant to address or ask for help with. 

After all, we “should” be able to “adult,” right? 

Meh. As with most things in trauma recovery— and life— it’s not that simple. 

As you design your trauma recovery blueprint, start with the everyday life stuff. 

Start with the “adulting” stuff you’ve been putting off and that you struggle with. 

Above all, I want your trauma recovery to be realistic and sustainable— and NO work you do on your trauma is going to “stick” if life is kicking your ass. 

So: start simple. Start basic. 

Start at the very bottom of Maslow’s hierarchy, way the hell away from your trauma symptoms and memories. 

Yeah, trauma recovery is probably going to ask you to engage with those. 

But not now. Not today. 

Today, let’s clean your room for ten minutes. 

This is realistically how we make recovery happen. 

This is how we win. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

You don’t have to love this trauma recovery sh*t. Really.

Whoever told you you always have to have a “good attitude” about this trauma recovery sh*t, was lying. You don’t. 

I don’t always have a “good attitude” about this trauma recovery sh*t, and it’s my job. 

Nobody says you have to love it. Nobody says you always have to be motivated, or sanguine, or zen about it. 

I’ll spoil the suspense, your attitude, like mine, will often suck. 

And, that’s not a deal breaker when it comes to trauma recovery. 

Realistic recovery asks us to work it right on through The Suck. 

It asks us to refrain from hurting or killing ourselves, even when we want to. Even when we think that’s what we “deserve.” Even when we think we can’t go on one more minute. 

Not doing something you really want to do— or you really think you “have” to do— sucks. 

And, you can do it. 

Interrupting yourself when you’re beating the sh*t out of yourself is hard. 

And, you can do it. 

Paying attention to your physiology, especially your breathing, is a hassle. 

And, you can do it. 

Working our trauma recovery requires us to be different from all those people who will read this post and comment with 2,477,270 reasons why they “can’t” or “shouldn’t have to.” 

Working our trauma recovery asks us to stand up for ourselves against our bullies and abusers— specifically, the ones in our head, the ones who are still giving us sh*t, even though they may not even be in our life (or even alive) anymore. 

Working our trauma recovery asks us to be realistic about what progress looks like. Because it doesn’t look like feeling 100% better overnight. 

Woking our trauma recovery asks us to be kind to and patient with “parts” of ourselves that may frustrate or confuse or infuriate us. 

None of that is easy. And yes, all of it is “easier said than done” (like literally everything). 

You don’t have to love it. 

You just have to get yourself to identify and make the next recovery supporting micro choice in how you talk to yourself, how you direct your mental focus, and how you use your breathing and body. 

The person reading this with the worst attitude, can still do that. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery is about happiness– not just managing symptoms.

Something many trauma recover resources don’t tell you, that I think they should, is that your daily life management routine and rituals and skills have got to be linked to your overall philosophy and model of what happiness is. 

Because the goal of all of this is not just “symptom management.” 

The goal of all of this is happiness. 

A barrier I ran into in my own trauma recovery (and my recovery from addiction and ADHD) was, I felt that the tools I was developing were only useful for managing symptoms— which was fine, but also not especially motivating. 

Yes, we all want to manage and reduce painful symptoms. 

But “managing symptoms” is not really something that gets me up in the morning. 

Digging into that, I discovered a specific fear: that if I got too good at “managing” my symptoms, everything in my life would be stable…and boring. 

I know, hell of a problem to have, right? 

The truth is, there are times in the chaotic sh*t show that used to be my life, that I would have BEGGED for “boring.” 

It’s not that I liked or wanted drama. I didn’t, and don’t. 

What I did want, though, was to feel alive. 

I wanted to work on projects that mattered to me. That inspired me, that turned me on, that focused me. 

And the version of life that I felt I was developing by just focusing on skills and tools was just not especially interesting. 

Now, the solution to that is not to give up on tools and skills, nor to discredit safety and stability as goals. All of those are super important. 

But they need to be tied to something bigger. 

I don’t want you sleepwalking through your days, acceptably “managing” your symptoms, but with no bigger model of how happiness and fulfillment happen. 

I want you taking time, every day, to connect what you’re working on today— the safety and stability and executive functioning stuff— with what you ultimately want. 

Your big goals. Your big dreams. 

And, yes, I know: trauma does a real number on our ability to dream big and to set goals and to dare to even think about what “happiness” is. 

It’s anxiety provoking. And, not for nothing, we’re not taught how to do that— to connect our daily routines and decisions to the bigger picture of what creates a life worth living. 

But I truly think that’s the ultimate key to sustainable recovery. 

Put another way: there are plenty of resources that will teach us the “what” of trauma recovery. For that matter, the “what”— the specific tools and skills— are going to vary based on who you are, what your learning style is, and what your specific injuries and wounds are. 

But the “what” of trauma recovery won’t sustain us. We’ll get bored with it. We’ll get tired of it. 

We also need the “why.” 

We need something to do all of this for. A reason to endure the hassle and the heartache. 

What I want you thinking about, at last a little every day, is: your model of happiness. 

What creates it? 

What sustains it? 

Because if experiencing trauma has taught us anything, it’s that life or other people are not going to come along and hand us happiness. 

If we’re going to get realistically, sustainably happy, it’s on us. 

Don’t let that freak you out. Happiness is like anything: it has building blocks. A formula. Those aren’t the same for everyone— but your equation is out there. 

I just want you starting to think about it and ask questions about it. Even if you’re just trying to stay alive every day at this point. 

drglenndoyle

Recovery is about philosophy, not just skill.

Your mileage may vary, but I don’t think we are here to merely survive. 

I think we’re here to master ourselves. 

I think we’re here to grow stronger, in realistic, sustainable ways. 

The philosopher Nietzsche called it the “will to power”— that instinct in human beings to test our limits and discover who we truly are. 

That’s what I think trauma and addiction recovery are really about. Not just “coping with” symptoms. Not just processing memories. 

As far as I’m concerned, we learn to manage symptoms and process memories specifically so we can get on with this business of why we’re really here, why we really exist. 

You don’t have to agree with me. I know plenty of people who don’t— plenty of people who believe that we’re basically here as a cosmic accident. 

Trauma makes us particularly vulnerable to believing that we’re not here for any particular reason at all. 

One of my favorite trauma recovery resources that doesn’t often get discussed as a trauma resource is the book “Man’s Search for Meaning,” by Viktor Frankl. It’s about how Fankl, a Holocaust survivor, made it through that experience by seeking out and creating meaning, even in the little everyday moments inside the concentration camp. 

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not in the “everything has meaning” or “everything happens for a reason” camp. 

But I do believe that life has purpose— and that purpose is to see how far we can realistically go with the tools and resources we have, find, and develop, even after trauma. 

F*ck it— especially after trauma. 

Why mention it here? Because I believe philosophy is as important as skill in recovering from trauma. 

You’re going to be exposed to all kinds of trauma recovery tools on this journey. Some will resonate with how you function; others won’t. You’ll adapt some to how you work, and you’l choose not to develop others. 

Bu no matter what tools you do or don’t embrace along this trauma recovery journey, you’re going to need a trauma recovery philosophy— a life philosophy— that makes those tools worth using. 

What makes life worth living? 

You get to answer for you. But for me, Nietzsche nailed it. 

drglenndoyle

No. You are not “just like them.”

I don’t mind saying it: we’re better than our abusers and bullies. 

As in, we’re better people. 

Yes, they may be wounded. 

Yes, they may have even survived trauma in their life, similar to the trauma we survived in ours. 

Did the fact that they survived trauma lead them to abuse or hurt us? No. 

Trauma or pain in one’s life does not “make” them become an abuser. 

There may have been factors that made them vulnerable to the decisions they made— but decisions were still made. 

Sometimes I’ll get pushback for asserting that we, survivors working our trauma recovery, are better than our abusers— but I stand by it. 

So often trauma survivors walk into my office, fully prepared to tell me all 2,482,200 reasons why they suck— and those same survivors often want to tell me all the reasons why their abuse wasn’t “actually” abuse, or why their abusers deserve empathy “as human beings.” 

I’ll never tell you you “have” to feel a particular way about your abusers and bullies. 

And I do believe that every human being deserves as much compassion as their pain requires. 

But that still doesn’t let them off the hook for their decisions. 

We are better than our abusers and bullies. Quote me on it. 

The fact that you are working your trauma recovery makes you better. 

The fact that you are reading this and taking it seriously makes you better. 

The fact that you are even thinking about issues of fault and responsibility when it comes to how humans affect each other, makes you better. 

Sympathize with your abusers all you want. I happen to believe my father, for all his flaws and poor or cruel choices, was a very tortured man. I have all kinds of sympathy and even empathy for him. 

And also: my choices make me better than him. 

You don’t have to believe that. But I do. 

Trauma recovery does not, actually, ask us not to judge. 

Trauma recovery asks us to judge intelligently and realistically— not in the distorted, bullsh*t way we were conditioned to judge ourselves. 

I don’t want anybody reading this to get a big head about being “better” than their abusers. That’s not the point. 

The point is to remind ourselves: what we do really does matter. The choices we make matter. How we process and respond to our pain and vulnerability, matter. 

We are not passive victims of fate or prisoners to our past, any more than our abusers were. 

Both we and our abusers had choices. 

We are choosing profoundly differently from them. 

Profoundly better. 

This post is dedicated to anyone who has struggled with the question of “am I just like them?” 

You’re not. Really. 

drglenndoyle

You don’t need to do it all. Really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t have to do it perfectly. 

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

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

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

drglenndoyle

Being understood is overrated.

Being understood is overrated. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was only a symptom of our real problem. 

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

We weren’t supported. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being understood is nice. 

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

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

drglenndoyle

Start with internal safety.

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

But they’re not. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what we have to stop. 

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

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

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

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

F*ck that, you know? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is to say: start basic. 

I love basic. Basic is friend. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Bandwidth and blame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That limited bandwidth is a symptom. 

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

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

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

Do what you can, with what you have. 

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