Use Your Damn Skills

Once upon a time, the fact that the abused you meant, to you, that you were “gross.” 

Now, you realize: they were gross. 

Once upon a time, the fact that you were neglected meant, to you, that you were “unloveable.” 

Now, you realize: their inability to love or care for you was about them, not you. 

Once upon a time, the fact that you struggled with symptoms meant, to you, that you were “weak.” 

Now, you realize: you have symptoms precisely because you had to be too strong, for too long. 

Once upon a time, the fact that you dissociate meant, to you, that you “couldn’t handle” what was happening. 

Now, you realize: dissociation WAS how you handled what was happening. 

Once upon a time, the fact that their abuse left physical scars on you meant that you would forever be faced with a reminder of their torture. 

Now, you realize: your scars mean a hell of a lot more than anything they did to you. 

Once upon a time, the fact that you expense trauma responses meant, to you, that you were “crazy.” 

Now, you realize: fight, flight, freeze, flop, and fawn all make sense to a nervous system that has been subjected to traumatic stress. 

Once upon a time, the fact that complex trauma scrambled your attachment style and behavior meant, to you, that you would never meaningfully connect with a romanic partner. 

Now, you realize: there are plenty of people out there also committed to woking their own recovery— and survivors working their recovery with commitment and consistency can make excellent romantic partners. Including you. 

Once upon a time, the fact that you had nightmares meant, to you, that you would never get a restful night’s sleep ever again. 

Now, you realize: we have nightmares when we don’t have the tools or support to consciously process intense feelings of fear and helplessness— but once we start bringing awareness and putting words to what’s happening in our head and heart, the symptom of nightmares often resolves. 

Once upon a time, the fact that you struggled with eating meant, for you, that food and mealtimes would never be a source of pleasure or connection. 

Now, you realize: our relationship with food is just like any other relationship in our lives— it is responsive to care and investment, and it can be handled one interaction at a time. 

Once upon a time, the fact that you feel regret or shame about past decisions meant that you “had” to hate and berate yourself. 

Now, you realize: hating and berating yourself is recreating, in your own head, what your bullies and abusers did to you— and you don’t have to play along. 

Once upon a time, the fact that the people who share your name and DNA did not love or care for you, meant, to you, that you were not worthy of love and care. 

Now, you realize: the people who share your name and DNA may not be “your people” after all— and that may be the good news. 

Once upon a time, the fact that complex trauma is overwhelming and panful and prolonged meant, to you, that you were just screwed. That your life was just over. 

Now, you realize: it’s not too late. It’s never too late. 

For anybody and everybody reading my words right now, it is not too late. 

Once upon a time, you felt like you would never love or trust yourself, ever again. 

Now, you realize: love and trust are verbs. Loving and trusting yourself begins with “acting as if,” even if you’re not feeling it just now. 

Once upon a time, you thought you had to figure out your entire trauma recovery right now. That you had to see the whole staircase. 

Now, you realize: you just need to take the next step. 

That’s it. 

Now is not once upon a time. 

Be here now. 

Breathe, blink, focus. 

You survived. Against all odds, you survived. 

I know— your experience growing up may or may not have seemed that desperate. You may or may not be surprised at your own survival. You may or may not consider what happened to you “trauma.” 

But you survived. 

Some people will consider that fact— your survival— as basically the end of the story. 

They will tell you that the fact that you survived, the fact that you’re reading these words, means that the danger and pain is all in the past. 

That you’re “safe now.” 

But survivors— and I call us survivors, because, well, I have to call us something, don’t I?— know that it’s not that simple. 

The fact that we survived might be the prologue to our real story. 

The real trauma you’re struggling with right now might be the fact that you did survive— and what you’ve had to live with since. 

That’s something “they” often don’t get. 

“They” very frequently want to know why we’re even thinking about trauma that happened n the past. 

The danger’s over, right? We survived, didn’t we? What are we looking backward for? 

What “they” don’t get is that what we endured, whether we’re willing to cal it “abuse” or “neglect” or “trauma” or not, left marks. 

Sometimes those marks are physical. Sometimes they’re not. Sometimes they’re both. 

Living with trauma— and I am going to call it “trauma,” for the sake of calling it something— is a trauma. 

And it’s often a more confusing trauma than what we initially went through. 

Many people don’t understand how frustrating it is to be responding in the present, to something that happened in the past. 

Many don’t understand what it’s like to hear voices from the past as if they’re in the room with us. Hell, right next to our ear. 

It’s like being haunted. 

Not your house being haunted— it’s like you being haunted. 

It’s also like being hijacked. 

Not your car or a plane being hijacked— like your nervous system, your literal brain, being hijacked. 

Living with that, year after year, never really being able to describe it to another human— whether or not you think what happened to you was a trauma, THAT is traumatic. That’s traumatic for almost anyone. 

Trauma recovery is not about trauma. It is about recovery. 

Surviving trauma is not about trauma. It is about the survivor. 

Trauma work— n therapy or not— is not about trauma, and it is only peripherally about the people  or institutions that hurt us. It is about your life; your safety; your stability; your future. 

 I don’t care what anybody does or doesn’t call their experience. Call it pineapple on pizza. Call yourself a purple people eater. It’s not important. 

What is important is that you have realistic access to the skills, tools, and philosophies that will get you through this alive, and support you in creating a future you choose. 

I’m glad you survived. 

I’m glad you’re reading this. 

And I know, for a stone cold certain fact, that this is the beginning, not the end, of your trauma survival story. 

Trauma responses never occur “for no reason.” 

They never come “out of nowhere.” Not really. 

We might not be consciously privy to the reason— now. 

We may not know where our trauma responses come from— yet. 

But we will. 

It will take patience. It will take self-compassion. And it will like take time. 

But how our trauma history informs our reactions and needs will not remain a mystery. 

The connections between past and present will reveal themselves— but we’re going to have to sit with some feelings and memories we don’t like. 

We’re going to have to sit with them— and refuse to judge them. 

We’re going to have to sit with them— and refuse to insist they go away. 

We’re going to have to sit with those feelings and memories— and refuse to judge ourselves for them. 

That’s easier said than done. 

Trauma Brain loves nothing more than to sling judgment at us for our feelings and memories— and then for the reactions we have to those feelings and memories. 

How trauma f*cks us up, broadly, isn’t a particular mystery. 

We experience painful, often overwhelming, sh*t, and our brain splinters us inside, so we can continue to function. Such as it is. 

Our memories get sequestered from our feelings; our feelings get sequestered from our conscious awareness; much of what we experienced gets handed off to dissociative “parts” to hold so we can keep functioning out in the world. 

When we get triggered, the dissociative barriers that keep our memories and feelings sequestered from each other become porous, meaning we sometimes get flooded by feelings or overwhelmed by memories— a problem our nervous system then tries to “solve” by reinforcing the dissociative barriers inside. 

Over time it’s like we become strangers to ourselves. 

The solution to all this is NOT to tear down the psychological walls that have been erected to try to keep everything separate inside. 

If the alternative to dissociative splintering and numbing is drinking from the emotional fire hose, no one would ever give up dissociation as a defense— and why would they? 

The actual solution involves processing and integrating our feelings and memories— a process that goes hand in hand with understanding how our feelings and memories have been informing our trauma responses (and our trauma beliefs, for that matter) this whole time. 

I know. All of this seems overwhelming. That’s not about you; that’s about the fact that, well, trauma can be overwhelming. 

Realistic trauma recovery, however, is accomplished in increments. Baby steps. 

I don’t want anyone trying to drink from the emotional fire hose in trauma recovery. That’s a surefire recipe for flooding and self-harm and suicidal ideation. 

What I do want is everyone in trauma recovery evaluating their feelings and needs day by day, hour by hour, and responding to those feelings and needs as if they were taking care of someone they loved. 

Yeah. Trauma recovery and self-love are inextricably entwined. 

Even if you don’t FEEL especially loving toward yourself, it’s real important you’re open to talking and behaving lovingly toward yourself in this process of trauma recover. 

Consider it practice. 

Trauma recovery is not a mystery. 

Trauma responses can seem mysterious— but there are very few mysteries that can withstand the attention of dedicated investigators. 

Begin by replacing “for no reason” with “for some reason.” 

Replace “what’s wrong with you” with “what’s up with you.” 

Assume there IS rhyme AND reason to your trauma responses, and the trauma puzzle WILL eventually yield itself to you— provided you approach it with patience and self-compassion. 

We are all beginners in trauma recovery. You are, and I am. 

Some of us “beginners” have been at this for awhile— and that’s exactly how we know we’re beginners. 

Those of us who have the most experience, and arguably the most expertise, in trauma recovery, are crystal clear that we are beginners. 

We begin recovery anew every day. 

We realize that every day presents new triggers. New challenges. New opportunities, yes— but also new risks. 

We realize that no matter how good we get at this trauma recovery skill or that trauma recovery tool, today might serve up stressors that will freak us the f*ck out. Stressors that very well might outstrip our stability and bandwidth today. 

There was a time when I figured I was no longer a recovery “newbie.” I thought I knew a few things about a few things— and, for some reason, I thought that might insulate me, protect me, from the sh*t. 

Now I realize that mindset was a perfect illustration of one of my biggest vulnerabilities. My ego. 

My ego has led me down some pretty f*cked up paths. Including— hell, especially— when I thought I had it in check. 

My ego makes me vulnerable to addiction relapse. 

My ego makes me vulnerable to trauma abreactions. 

My ego threatens to ruin my life every single day. 

I’ve done enough trauma recovery work to know that I didn’t create this “ego” all by myself. Much of it was cut and pasted from the modeling of my father, a narcissistic addict (from whom, yes, I also cut and pasted many of my addiction behaviors). 

But that doesn’t mean I get a “pass” on the “ego” thing. 

My ego constantly tries to convince me I’m above or beyond certain types of recovery work. 

My ego tries to convince me I’m too “advanced” fo “basic” coping skills, tools, and mindsets. 

My ego tries to convince me that I’ve been at this “recovery” thing long enough that none of that “basic” stuff has anything to do with me anymore. 

My ego s full of sh*t. 

I am most at risk in my trauma and addiction recovery when I forget I am a beginner. Every day, in every way. 

So are you. 

We are all beginners in trauma recovery. Every day and in every way. 

We may have been in therapy for years. 

We may have been in recovery for years. 

We may have gone for weeks, months, or years without a trauma abreaction or addiction relapse. 

Make no mistake: Trauma Brain is very, very interested in using that fact against us. 

Trauma Brain is very, very keen on turning what should be a metric of success, into our downfall. 

It’s on us to not let that happen. 

You are a beginner. And that’s the good news. 

I, too, am a beginner. That is also good news. 

It means we get to take our vulnerabilities and the risks of recovery seriously. 

It means we get to be imperfect in our choice and application of all our skills and tools. 

It means we don’t have to worry about looking cool or polished with any of this “recovery” stuff. 

It means we get to ask questions. 

It means we get to worry about this day only. 

 I don’t care how long you’ve been in trauma or addiction recovery: treat today like Day One. 

Embrace beginner’s mind every single day. 

Toxic positivity is almost always annoying. But for trauma survivors, it might actually be triggering. 

What is “toxic positivity?” You know— all the “good vibes only” stuff you see on the internet. 

Toxic positivity is a form of emotional and/or spiritual “bypassing”— a psychologically defensive tactic some (well, many) people use to avoid accepting or processing the pain or trauma of a situation. 

Instead of acknowledging how difficult certain situations are, people welding toxic positivity continually seek to reframe events in some “empowering” way— often as a “learning experience” or “growth opportunity” or “spiritual test.” 

Of course, many difficult situations do present opportunities for learning, or growth, or even spiritual development— but toxic positivity isn’t so much about embracing the “empowering” parts of a difficult situation, as it is about denying the painful or negative parts. 

As it turns out, we can’t actually take advantage of any “growth” opportunities a situation allows us, if we’re simultaneously deep in denial about the pain or loss involved. 

People who engage in toxic positivity are most often less interested in seeking out the positive in a situation, than they are scared or overwhelmed by the pain of a situation. 

I’m pretty sure everybody reading this can think of a person or organization that perfectly exemplifies what I’m describing here. 

Why can toxic positivity be triggering to trauma survivors? 

Many survivors are used to what we’ve been through and/or our symptoms overwhelming the people around us. 

Often the people around us, or even the people close to us, don’t know what to make of our stories or our symptoms. 

Honestly, we get it: we survivors very often also don’t know what to make of our stories or symptoms. We know what it’s like to be overwhelmed by them; we’ve had to live with what we’re experiencing 24/7 for years. 

In the best case scenario, the people around us or close to us respond to this overwhelm by using their own coping skills, listening to and believing what we tell them about what it’s like to be us, and being real with us and themselves about if and how they can be there for us. 

However, a subset of people can only seem to deal with overwhelming stories and symptoms like ours by trying to bypass the feelings and reactions they’re experiencing. They go right for the toxic positivity, in other words. 

They skip past the pain, and go right for the “lesson.” 

They skip past the loss, and go right for the “opportunities.” 

Is there anything wrong with looking for “lessons” and “opportunities” in the midst of trauma? Your mileage may vary, but no, I don’t think so. 

There is, however, a problem in doing so at the expense of acknowledging the pain and loss involved. 

When someone leans into toxic positivity in response to our story and symptoms, it communicates to us that or pain— which we live with every minute of every day— isn’t welcome in this relationship. 

It communicates to us that, if we want this person in our experience, we’re going to have to hide or minimize that painful part of our experience— just as we’ve had to hide so many parts of or experience from so many people over the years. 

When somebody leans into toxic positivity with us, it subtly (or not so subtly) communicates to us that, if we don’t see the “opportunities” and “silver linings” in our trauma experience, it’s because of our “attitude”— maybe that we’re not being “grateful” enough. 

Toxic positivity can be triggering to trauma survivors, in other words, because it tends to reinforce many victim shaming tropes that saturate our culture already— and which make trauma recovery far more fraught and effortful than it needs to be for many survivors. 

We already struggle to let people in. We very often struggle to be real about and accepting of our own stories and struggles. 

We don’t need toxic positivity adding to our burden. 

We don’t need to feel like “the problem” because we can’t leap nimbly to the “lesson” or embrace the “opportunity” inherent in our trauma. 

Many of us struggle with mere “acceptance” on a good day. 

Maybe meet us there instead. 

Make no mistake: trauma poisoned us. Just as surely as rattlesnake venom would. 

Abuse poisoned our beliefs about ourselves. It conditioned us to believe we “deserve” to be hurt. 

Neglect poisoned our beliefs about our worthiness. It conditioned us to believe that we were not “worth” caring for or protecting. 

Sexual abuse poisoned our beliefs about our body. It conditioned us to believe our worth was in the physical pleasure we could provide others— and that our body was not ours to do with as we prefer. 

Emotional abuse poisoned our attitude toward ourselves. It conditioned us to believe that feeling sad or angry were unforgivable sins— although feeling genuinely happy or enthusiastic were unrealistic fantasies. 

Spiritual abuse poisoned any relationship we might have otherwise had with our Creator, higher power, or gurus or teachers that might otherwise have positively shaped how we relate to the non-physical. 

Financial abuse poisoned our beliefs and attitudes about money— especially our ability to earn, save, and manage it. 

Bullying poisoned our beliefs toward our age group peers. Speaking for myself, I still struggle to relate to men around my age, specifically because it is difficult to not see my bullies in them— and this is after years in recovery and multiple psychology degrees. 

Relational abuse poisoned our beliefs about whether we can or should be close to others. One of the hardest things I’ve had to work on in my own trauma recovery is my belief that I cannot be romantically close to someone without eventually hurting them. 

“Flashbulb” trauma— trauma the happens out in the world and isn’t personally linked to us, such as accidents or acts of war or terrorism, poison our belief that the world is a safe, predictable place. This kind of trauma can literally poison our willingness to leave our house. 

Not only does abuse, neglect, and other trauma poison us— we feel that poison circulating through our entire body every time we’re triggered into a flashback (including emotional or somatic flashbacks). 

When we are poisoned by trauma, it is very common to wonder why. 

Why me? Why did this happen? Why now? 

But in my experience, this is about as sensical as asking a rattlesnake why it bit. 

We may be able to from some hypotheses— but ultimately, we’ll never know. There won’t be a “why” that will make what we endured “okay.” 

When you’re bit by a rattlesnake, it’s more important to treat the wound and extract the poison than to insist the snake explain its behavior. 

How do we treat the wound and extract the poison? 

We work our recovery. 

We get clear on how trauma poisoned us. 

We read up on how trauma poisons us. We read books and blogs and social media pages from sources we trust. We watch videos and listen to podcasts from people— ideally other survivors— who know what they’re talking about. 

We notice how trauma conditioned has distorted who we are and what we’re all about— and we start identifying ways to interrupt those patterns. 

We start looking for ways to scratch the record. 

We get clear on our goals and values, and what beliefs, behaviors, skills, tools, and philosophies we’d need to develop to achieve those goals and live those values. 

This is all recovery. 

The trauma poison will try, hard, to convince you it’s too late. It will try to convince you that your blood is more venom than blood anymore. It all try to convince you it’s no good to try to extract the poison or heal the wound. 

Trauma poisons our beliefs about our ability to recover. 

Don’t believe the poison. 

Believe the survivors who are working their recovery. 

Believe the survivor who is writing this. 

Believe. 

Believe. 

Believe. 

Eh, maybe you’re right— maybe you’re not “ready” for trauma recovery. 

And— that doesn’t especially matter. 

No one’s really “ready” for trauma recovery. No one feels ready for it, anyway. 

Many of us don’t even know what the hell trauma recovery looks like until we’re in it. 

All we know is, there’s more to life than this. There has to be. 

Acknowledging that— that you want to feel and function better— is enough. 

Very often, Trauma Brain tries to tell us we don’t yet “deserve” recovery. 

We haven’t “earned” it. All we’ve done s suffer from our post traumatic stress. How can we “deserve” recovery when all we’ve done is get our ass kicked? 

It’s this weird game Trauma Brain plays with us, wherein it tries to convince us that we “should” be doing “better” than we are in order to “deserve” relief or support. 

Wanna know when we most need support? When we’re suffering the most. 

Not when we’ve “earned” it. 

Not when we’ve “tried hard enough.” 

Why do we get so stuck on whether we “deserve” recovery? 

Because we’ve been conditioned to believe if we’re suffering, it’s because we’ve failed. 

We’ve failed to be “tough” enough. 

We’ve failed to be “smart” enough to somehow avoid the suffering. 

Why should we “deserve” relief and support, when we’re such a “failure?” 

Of course— this is all fake news. Spin. Propaganda. BS (Belief Systems— but the other kind of BS, too).

If everyone had to wait until they’d “earned” trauma recovery by feeling and functioning better on their own— no one would ever get into trauma recovery. 

Recovery is not something we “earn.” 

Yes, it tends to go better the more we work at it. But that doesn’t mean it’s an “accomplishment” that we “earn” by working hard at it. 

The people who need recovery the most are those who feel we “deserve” it the least. Including me. Especially me. 

Don’t get in your head about whether you “deserve” to feel and function better. 

Remember: all you need in order to be “eligible” for trauma recovery is the desire to not let trauma run or ruin your life anymore. 

That’s it. That’s the price of admission. 

You’re gonna have days in trauma recovery when your heart’s not in it. I do. 

You’re gonna have days in trauma recovery when you doubt your ability to do it, even for one more day. I do. 

You’re gonna have days in trauma recovery when you honestly believe that meaningful recovery doesn’t actually exist. 

(I don’t have that. I know recovery is real. I’ve seen it. I’ve experience it every day.)

And you’re gonna have days when you feel you flat out don’t deserve support, or relief, or recovery. 

Let that doubt exist. Don’t push back against it. Don’t overreact to it. 

Let that doubt exist…and recover anyway. 

One day, one minute, one skill, tool, philosophy, one BREATH at a time. 

I’ve seen the future, and there is a “you,” in recovery, on the other side of this doubt. 

“Not caring what they think” is easier said than done. 

Everyone tells us we “shouldn’t care what they think.” 

Everyone tells us that, to build real self-esteem, we have to be completely self-reliant. That we have to only work about what WE think of ourselves— not “them.” 

But it’s never quite that simple, is it? 

The truth is, we do have to care what some people think, at least some of the time. 

Very few of us are in a position where we can completely disregard EVERYBODY’S feelings and opinions about us. 

For that matter, very few of us truly want that— to just not care about others’ feelings. 

Many of us were hurt by people who did not care about our feelings and needs— and we don’t want to be like them. 

I’ve never been a fan of the “don’t care about what anybody else thinks” advice. 

I don’t think it’s realistic. I don’t think it’s practical. And, frankly, it’s not the kind of person I want to be. 

I know what people mean when they say it, I think. I think when people encourage survivors to “not care what anyone else thinks,” they’re trying to free us from stressing out about others’ expectations. 

It’s true that many trauma survivors have a counterproductive, often painful, habit of defining our worth based on what others think, feel, and need. 

It’s true that trauma survivors very often neglect our own feelings and needs in order to cater to others’ feelings and needs, especially if “fawn” is our go-to trauma response. 

It’s true, in other words, that an important recovery task for many survivors is keeping others’ feelings and needs in perspectives, and not sacrificing our own feelings and needs to mollify someone else. 

But does that mean we have to completely sacrifice our sensitivity to others’ feelings and needs if we want to recover? No. 

A core trauma recovery skill almost every survivor, including me, needs to work on is interpersonal effectiveness. Wrapped up in this skill are the twin skills of assertiveness and boundaries. 

The truth is, we can— and should, in my opinion— care about what others think about us, what they feel and need…but we need to have boundaries with how we’re willing to respond to all of it. 

And, in order to enforce our boundaries— remembering that boundaries are limits we place on ourselves, not anyone else— we need confidence that we have and will use our assertiveness skills. 

Yeah. Those can be daunting tasks for many trauma survivors. Many survivors had a reaction just reading those two sentences. The words “boundaries” and “assertiveness” come with a LOT of surplus meaning for many survivors. 

Here’s the good news: we don’t have to completely give up caring what other people think, or feel, or need. That’d be unrealistic and uncomfortable for most of us, including me. 

Here’s the tough news: if we’re going to continue caring about what others think, feel, and need, we need to have our boundaries and assertiveness skills in working order. 

Otherwise we’re just asking to live in a perpetual “fawn” state. And most everybody reading this, I suspect, is mighty sick of that. 

Back to the good news, though: we don’t have to learn or perfect boundary setting OR assertiveness skills all at once. 

We learn and refine these skills just like we learn and refine any skill. 

Say it with me: one day at a time. 

Trauma wants to starve you. 

It wants to starve you of resources. 

It wants to starve you of self-esteem. 

It wants to starve you of any memory that isn’t awful. 

It wants to starve you of physical energy. 

It wants to starve you of meaningful contact with other humans. 

And, yes: it wants to starve you of the physical fuel you need to live. Literally, food. 

Remember: the trick trauma plays is that it gets us to do the thing to ourselves. 

It gets us to talk to ourselves like our bullies and abusers talked to us. 

It gets us to behave toward ourselves like our bullies and abusers behaved toward us. 

And, yes: it gets us to starve ourselves. Literally. Physically. 

We are not going to recover from trauma while starving ourselves. 

We are not going to feel or function better if we’re running on empty. 

Trauma recovery is about repairing and rebuilding our relationship with ourselves. We are not going to do that while simultaneously starving ourselves. 

Trauma recovery is about dealing with our tiggers and trauma responses wisely and skillfully. We are not going to engage our wisdom or use our (damn) skills if we’re literally too hungry to think. 

Trauma recovery is built on self-awareness and self-acceptance. We are not going to increase our self-awareness while remaining unaware of our body’s and brain’s need for fuel. 

It’s not a coincidence that trauma and eating disorders co-occur so frequently. They operate in very similar ways, and they feed off each other. Er, so to speak. 

Both trauma and eating disorders try to tell us we need to take up less space. 

Both trauma and eating disorder try to convince us that what we do not deserve nourishment we naturally, normally require to survive or thrive. 

Both trauma and eating disorders try to convince us that we can solve internal emotional problems with external means. 

Both trauma and eating disorders lie to us. They lie to us all the time— but their lies about food, eating, and self-nourishment are particularly pernicious and destructive. 

Yeah. It’s uncomfortable to nourish, nurture, literally feed ourselves, in trauma recovery. 

It’s going to stir up all kinds of feelings that we have very often worked hard to bury. 

Many trauma survivors feel guilty when they try to eat in a way that meets their nutritional needs. 

Many trauma survivors feel shame that they even HAVE nutritional needs. 

If you’re reading this, you probably know, better than most, that realistic trauma recovery requires us to embrace a certain amount of discomfort— and eating is absolutely one of those things. 

You can recover from trauma. Yes, you. But you need to be thinking straight to do it. You need to be physiologically functioning well enough to do it. 

And that means eating. 

Eating enough. Eating regularly enough. Eating what you need to eat to meet your nutritional needs. To literally operate your body and brain. 

I know. Easier said than done. Just know that you are not the first, last, or only trauma survivor to struggle with the eating thing. 

But also know that realistically addressing the eating thing is worth it. 

You are worth it. 

You are literally worth feeding. 

Do not help trauma starve you.

You don’t owe anyone an apology for having feelings. 

You don’t owe anyone an apology for having reactions. 

Human beings have feelings and reactions. All human beings have feelings and reactions. 

Yet, trauma survivors habitually feel all kinds of shame for having feelings and reactions. 

Not only do we get to have feelings and reactions— we need to remember that many of us have been through some pretty f*cked up situations. 

Whether what we’ve been through was a little f*cked up or a lot f*cked up, what we’ve experienced often falls outside the range of “normal” human experience. 

You very much get to have strong, complicated reactions to f*cked up experiences that humans were not built to process. 

And yet— we’re often told we don’t get to have those reactions. 

We’re often told, implicitly or explicitly, that the feelings we’re having are “wrong.” 

We’re often judged and shamed for our feelings or reactions, because they don’t happen to align with what somebody else thinks we “should” feel or how we “should” react. 

I’ll spoil the suspense: our nervous system could literally not care less how anybody else thinks we “should” feel or react. Our nervous system is in the business of emoting about and reacting to what’s in front of us. 

Sometimes we get into our heads about how we owe people apologies for our feelings and reactions, because either we think or they’ve communicated that our feelings and reactions inconvenience or hurt them. 

It is entirely possible that someone might find our feelings and reactions not to their liking. It’s entirely possible someone might be inconvenienced by what we feel or how we react. 

That doesn’t mean you are “wrong” for your feelings or reactions. 

So much of the damage trauma inflicts upon us is rooted in invalidation. 

Abuse and neglect fundamentally invalidate our personhood. We come through the experiences of abuse and neglect literally feeling less like human beings, who deserve love and safety. 

When someone communicates to us that our feelings or reactions are “wrong,” they are also invalidating our personhood— because, again, emoting and reacting is what humans do. It’s what all humans do. 

You do not owe anyone an apology for being human, reacting like a human, having feelings like a human, behaving like a human. 

You do not have to “earn” the “right” to be human. 

You do not have to apologize for your feelings or reactions being strong or complicated— especially when what you’ve been through was complex and painful. 

For my money, trauma recovery is built on two principles: self-awareness and self-acceptance. 

We need self-awareness because it’s hard to change how we feel and function without being aware of how we feel and function. 

We need self-acceptance because it’s hard to change anything if we don’t accept that it exists exactly as it is, right here, right now. 

When we’re constantly apologizing for normal, universal human experiences— that we didn’t choose, by the way— like feeling and reacting, we’re kicking our self-acceptance right in the stomach. 

I know. It’s a hard habit to break. That “fawn” response dies hard. 

But it’s worth trying to unravel. It’s a pattern worth interrupting, worth scrambling. 

Because you don’t owe anyone an apology. Not for things you didn’t choose. Not for things, like feelings and reactions, that have been built into every human since the beginning of time.