drglenndoyle

“Needy” is not an insult. Or it shouldn’t be, anyway.

Yes: as we work our trauma recovery, we will get better at identifying and expressing our needs. And that’s awesome. 

It’s also not a guarantee others will be at all interested in meeting our needs. 

Unfortunately, there’s no magic to expressing our needs. I wish there was. 

But we’re going to run into plenty of people who just don’t care. 

Not everyone, mind you. We’ll also run into people who will be supportive and invested. 

But we want to be realistic. That won’t be everyone. 

Does that mean there’s no point to expressing our needs? 

No, it does not. 

Identifying and expressing our needs is vital to our self-esteem. 

Identifying and expressing our needs is important to our self-respect. 

Identifying and expressing our needs is necessary to identify the subset of people who actually WILL help us get our needs met. 

If there’s anything you take away from my writing about trauma recovery, it’s that recovery needs to be realistic and sustainable. 

That means we can’t be hanging on to fantasies that the world is kinder than it is. 

The world is not kind. 

But some people in the world can be kind. 

It may not be the case that we’ll have people lining up to help us get our needs met, even if we identify and express those needs. 

But it is the case that if we’re going to realistically recover from CPTSD, WE need to be in touch with those needs—especially if years of abuse and neglect have made us believe we “can’t” or “shouldn’t” be clear and expressive about our needs. 

What the hell are our needs, anyway? 

The theory I like about human needs is that there are six basics: predictability, novelty, significance, connection, growth, and contribution. 

In my experience, most human needs reduce to one or a combination of those. 

Abuse and neglect sever our connection with our needs. 

Which leaves us no less “needy”— just less able to make a realistic plan to meet our needs. 

Your needs are not “bad” or “weak.”

“Needy” is not an insult. Or it shouldn’t be, anyway. 

Get clear about what you need. Put words to your needs. 

Not because there’s “magic” to any of this— but because things that matter deserve specificity and expression. 

And make no mistake, your needs matter— because you matter. 

drglenndoyle

Rest and recreation are not “optional” in realistic trauma recovery.

Ever wonder why coercive controllers love to shame rest and recreation? 

It’s because rest and recreation make us less easy to control. 

Rest and recreation literally make us smarter. 

Rest and recreation make us more creative— and thus more dangerous to them. 

There’s a reason why every cult documentary includes the part where the “guru” tells their followers to sleep less. 

And there’s a reason why every grind culture wannabe “guru” tells their audience that sleep is a waste of otherwise “productive” time.” 

(Remember James Arthur Ray telling his “Spiritual Warriors,” three of whom would die by the end of the retreat, that while they could sleep while they were doing the event, he “wouldn’t recommend it?”) 

Trauma survivors are conditioned to have all sorts of negative feelings about rest. 

Not only have we been programmed to believe rest is for the “weak” or “lazy,” many of us are very aware of how vulnerable sleep or relaxation can make us. 

Some of us were primarily abused at night, literally woken from our sleep by our abusers. 

Many of us experience hyper vigilance and intrusive thoughts that make even trying to sleep or rest pure torture. 

When it comes to recreation, things we do for no other reason than we enjoy them and they make us feel good, many of us were conditioned to believe we do not “deserve” the opportunity to either enjoy things OR feel good. 

Some of us were heavily conditioned to believe that recreation was a waste of time— that it necessarily distracts us from being “productive.” 

If you read my material, you know how I feel about that: the things that we like, the things that inspire us, the things that tickle us, the things that make us feel good in any way, shape or form— I feel these things are integral to our recovery. 

They wake up our brain. They soothe our nervous system. They reconnect us to our authentic self. 

Resting and seeking out opportunities for recreation goes entirely against a LOT of our conditioning. Many of us have been programmed to be profoundly skeptical of and uncomfortable with either rest or recreation. 

A very common attitude I see in trauma survivors is that rest and recreation are “nice,” but optional. They truly believe that the “work” of trauma recovery is done primarily in therapy sessions, “processing trauma.” 

Let me tell you what I believe: trauma processing is “nice,” but the REAL work of trauma recovery is day to day self care. 

That means rest and recreation. 

Pro tip: anything that our abusers and bullies shame as much as they shame rest and recreation is probably a POWERFUL recovery tool. 

Get curious about why you were so heavily conditioned to eschew rest and recreation. 

And reframe them from “nice” but optional, to non-negotiables we absolutely have to figure out if we’re serious about trauma recovery. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma and time.

Trauma can do weird things to our perception of time. 

Things that happened years ago can feel like they happened yesterday. 

And things that happened yesterday can feel like they happened a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away. 

Trauma survivors can be vulnerable to the “time blindness” experienced by many neurodivergent people. 

Part of this is due to the dissociative “flavor” of many complex post traumatic symptoms— by definition, dissociation is separating us from some aspect of the here and now, and perception of time is often “collateral damage” when we’re experiencing dissociation. 

In addition, many trauma survivors are vulnerable to specific subtypes of dissociation called depersonalization and derealization, in which we or the world around us, respectively, don’t feel particularly real. 

It’s hard to keep track of and be responsive to time demands when we’re not quite sure what’s real and what’s not— when everything feels like a dream, or a copy of a copy (of a copy). 

Add to this the fact that traumatic memory isn’t encoded in our brain the same way non-traumatic memory is, and doesn’t decay like “normal” memory does, and survivors can get even more disoriented about time. 

None of this is survivors’ fault. Nobody asked for time distortion and challenges with time perception as a symptom. Nobody likes it. 

It’s actually quite a pain in the ass, that can get us in trouble— and we CPTSD survivors specifically hate, hate, hate feeling in trouble. 

One of the most common suggestions given to survivors working their trauma recovery is to start with the skill of grounding— using our senses to connect to the present moment, typically by identifying colors and objects and sensations that connect us to the world around us. 

An important aspect of grounding that often gets underemphasized is time. 

I’ve worked with many survivors who, when they’re triggered, might be able to identify colors and objects and other stimuli around them— but who are thoroughly convinced that it’s another year, and they are another age. 

One of the most beneficial tools I’ve ever stumbled upon in my own trauma recovery was a simple day planner. 

I know, I know, using a planner can be a pain in the ass. It runs the risk of making survivors feel trapped and controlled, especially if we struggled with procrastination or time management growing up. 

But keeping track of my day, hour by hour— taking time at the top of the hour to jot down what happened in the last hour, and reorienting myself to the structure and flow of the day— has actually made every OTHER trauma recovery tool I use more effective. 

Reminding ourselves that, no matter what it feels like, time only has one direction it flows— forward— and that any time we’re convinced we’ve been sucked into the past represents a symptom that is f*cking with us, can be a game changer. 

Flashbacks do not make us time travelers. Switching “parts” does not stop the clock on the flow of time. 

Many complex trauma symptoms SEEM to f*ck with time— but we need to remember that’s an illusion. 

We are still right here, right now; time only flows in one direction; and it only flows forward one minute at a time. 

Breathe; blink; focus— and check in with yourself before the top of the hour. 

drglenndoyle

Getting real about our black and white thinking.

Trauma survivors can be super vulnerable to black and white thinking. Ask me how I know. 

We can really struggle with seeing shades of grey— especially in what we feel or what we do. 

If we f*ck up, Trauma Brain is often right there telling us we “always” f*ck “everything” up— and maybe we don’t deserve to live because of it. 

Does that sound dramatic? Well, welcome to Trauma Brain. Where minor f*ck ups are often a slippery slope to “I don’t deserve to take up space and oxygen from actual worthwhile humans.” 

Why are we survivors so vulnerable to black and white, all or nothing thinking? 

It’s often because our patterns of thinking are structured around safety. 

In survival situations— like many of us grew up in— we didn’t have the time or luxury of thinking in shades of grey. 

We had to recognize and respond to threats immediately and empathically— and if something was maybe-or-maybe-not a threat, we had to err on the side of assuming it was dangerous. 

Once that black and white, err-on-the-side-of-assuming-the-situation-is-f*cked thinking becomes our default way of dealing with stressful situations, it’s hard to keep it from taking over our entire operating system— especially if our entire life has consisted of stressful situations. 

One of the reasons why CPTSD is so insidious is, it takes the adrenaline and collapsed focus that could help a human survive a short-lived traumatic stressor, and makes it our entire world. 

Since complex trauma often doesn’t have a clear cut “beginning” or “end”— it was just our life and our relationships, day after day, year after year— our nervous and endocrine systems had no way of knowing it was ever safe to switch off that state of sympathetic activation. 

All of which is to say, when your entire life is a traumatic stress situation, it’s hard to turn off those patterns of trauma responding— including black and white thinking. 

And then, inevitably, that black and white thinking gets turned on ourselves. 

We make one bad decision, and we have an enormously difficult time telling ourselves how we did that thing is how we necessarily do EVERYTHING; and if we’re just the “type” of person who makes sh*tty decisions, according to Trauma Brain, why do we even “deserve” any more chances? 

To people who don’t struggle with CPTSD, all of this might sound insane. 

But black and white thinking will kick our ass up and down the block, especially as we work to develop new patterns of thinking and responding (not “reacting”) in our trauma recovery. 

A place to start is by validating the “part” of us that is really into black and white thinking. 

Telling that “part” of ourselves that the job it did was really important in keeping us alive, and we’re grateful it exists. 

We’re not going to shame or pressure our way out of black and white thinking— those are the kind of self-punitive patterns that got us into this mess to begin with. 

Just start noticing when you’re diving deep into that rigid, all or nothing style of thinking, especially in your self talk. 

Then start taking a step back and asking some Recovery Supporting Questions (RSQ’s) about whether that rigid, emphatic thing you just told yourself might be “spiked” by Trauma Brain— and what a more realistic, self-compassionate version of that that statement might be. 

Yes, this is tedious work. It’s a pain in the ass. We’re trying to uproot and recondition patterns that had years to nestle deep into our nervous and endocrine systems. 

Don’t let anyone tell you confronting and shifting your black and white thinking is supposed to be easy. 

But also don’t let anyone tell you shifting your patterns of thinking, feeling, and behaving is impossible, either. 

You are not the one human who has an unchangeable nervous system— even at your age. 

Start out with validation and noticing. 

This is how we realistically change how we experience the world and ourselves. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Your sexuality did not “attract” your abuse.

There are people reading this who were made to believe they were abused because of their sexuality— as “punishment.” 

That is not true. 

It is true that certain abusers choose their victims based partially or wholly on their sexuality— but your abuse was not divine “punishment” for your sexual orientation, your gender identity, or anything else about your sexuality. 

Your sexuality is not “sinful.” 

Different people may have different perspectives on that subject, but you need to know that those are their perspectives— and their perspectives are all, by definition, human. 

And no human knows the mind of God.

Those humans who claim to know the mind of God are almost always trying to assert power over other humans. 

Survivors reading this who were told that they “deserved” abuse because of who they’re attracted to sexually or how they experience their gender have often carried that burden for years. 

No one asked for their sexual orientation or gender identity. 

So to be told, over and over again, that their sexual orientation or gender identity was a “choice” that led to them being “punished,” can lead to deeply wounded self esteem and suicidal ideation. 

(By the by, and I can’t believe this needs to be said, but for the sake of absolute clarity: sexual attraction to people or animals that cannot consent or comprehend what’s happening is not a “sexual orientation,” and that’s not what I’m talking about in this post.)

There are many survivors reading this who were harmed not just by physical or sexual abuse, but also by the mental and emotional abuse of being told that they were suffering because their non-chosen identity was an affront to God. 

There are survivors reading this who had little choice but to by in to the fact that their sexual or gender identity, which they did not choose, made them “sinful” in their most basic thoughts, desires, and needs. 

For many survivors of religious trauma especially, the conditioning they received around what their sexuality or gender identity meant vis a vis their relationship to God, prevented them from developing basic self-compassion or self-esteem. 

I, being human, don’t know the mind of God. 

But I can’t believe that God truly wants anyone walking around feeling unloved. 

This post is not about what people do choose to do in their sex lives, or how they choose to express themselves sexually. Neither I, nor anyone else on the internet, has any business telling you what to do with your sexuality or sex life. 

What I do want to emphatically express, though, is that, even if your sexuality made you a target, you did not “attract” or “deserve” that pain because of who you are sexually. 

People out there in the world may have strong opinions about what people do sexually— but I’m speaking to the survivors who were programmed to believe their pain is the consequence of who they are. 

I’ll tell you who you are: you are a survivor. 

And I’ll tell you what you are: you are worthy, you are lovable, and you are beautiful. 

And I’ll tell you what you deserve: acceptance, commitment, and recovery. 

That’s what I think, anyway. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

And don’t quit before the miracle. 

drglenndoyle

“Love” and “safety” shouldn’t be conditional.

Trauma survivors know: it is exhausting to constantly feel we have to earn, and re-earn, and re-earn again, love or safety. 

In fact, it can be so exhausting that we figure it’s not even worth it. 

The belief that love or safety is conditional, that we have to keep earning and re-earning it, often comes from childhood neglect— and it hooks hard into our “fawn” trauma response. 

When we’re kids, we’re not wired to understand that what we’re getting— or not getting— is not our fault. 

We assume that, if we’re starved for our basic needs (emotional or physical), that it probably has to do with us. 

Hell, sometimes we’re basically told as much by our abusers or bullies, especially when the needs in question are emotional. 

We don’t grow up believing that our caretakers had blocks of their own or made choices that resulted in us not being loved— we assume it was us who wasn’t “lovable.” 

This pattern has lots of variations. For example, if we grew up feeling invisible, we may assume that we simply weren’t attractive or entertaining enough to “deserve” attention— not that our caretakers just didn’t do their job. 

There are, of course, some things that are conditional. We choose our playmates, and later our friends, based at least partially on how they make us feel— and we’re not “unconditional” in it. We’re very conditional. 

But a parent taking care of a kid and providing for that kid’s needs should be held to a different standard than a kid choosing their playmates or friends. 

The bottom line, though, is that may CPTSD survivors arrive in adulthood feeling the crushing weight of what we think is our “failure” to “earn” the love and safety that we should have been entitled to growing up. 

Consequently we rarely feel secure or calm when it comes to love or safety, no matter what happens to be going on— because our nervous system is thoroughly convinced that there IS no such thing as “secure” love or safety. 

Our traumatized nervous system thinks it can never rest, because to do so would be to risk losing the love and safety we have. 

This is how the trauma symptom of “hypervigilance” shows up in CPTSD: never being able to relax, for fear of loss. 

The reality is, “love” or “safety” we have to earn, and re-earn, and re-earn again, is not actual “love” or “safety.” 

“Love” is not the same as affinity or attraction, both of which can vary. But “love” is a deeper level of investment and commitment, that cannot be “lost” that easily. 

Similarly, “safety” should not, cannot be dependent on someone else— we have to create it for ourselves and inside ourselves first and foremost. Otherwise it’s never truly “safe.” 

Do not let your early conditioning convince you you have to exhaust yourself “earning” love or safety. 

There are plenty of tasks in trauma recovery that require plenty of effort— but if someone says they love you, they don’t get to make you feel like you’re constantly auditioning for their love. 

And if someone represents that they’re a “safe” person, that safety should not be contingent upon their attitude toward you today. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Remember Truman.

Nobody can “make” us give up on trauma recovery. 

They can try. 

They can create circumstances that make it very, very hard for us to be patient and self-compassionate and grounded, as we need to be to realistically work our trauma recovery. 

They can distract us. 

They can try to hijack our focus. 

They can try to influence our self-talk. 

They can try to deprive us of resources we need to manage our physiology. 

They can do all kinds of things that can make it hard as hell for us to stay focused on our goals and values, the future we’re trying to create. 

But they can’t “make” us give up. 

They can’t “make” us harm ourselves. 

They can’t “make” us kill ourselves. 

Understand: it is not, in any way, shape, or form, “easy” to stay committed to our trauma recovery when a person or institution is out to make us feel like garbage. 

I’m not minimizing the massive influence others can have on us. That’s real. 

I’ll never tell you, as some therapists might, that no one can “make” you feel anything. Other peoples’ behavior can make it ENORMOUSLY easy to feel certain feelings, and ENORMOUSLY difficult to feel anything else. That’s real. 

But I will tell you: no one can “make” us surrender in our head. 

No one can “make” us decide that trauma recovery is not worth it. 

No one can “make” us give up on our “parts” and inner child. 

This post isn’t some bullsh*t toxic positivity “you control everything about your experience” spiel. Obviously other people can exert such an influence on our experience, that in no realistic way are we “choosing” what to feel in those moments. 

And let’s be clear about the fact that certain people very much want us believing, at the core of our being, that they CAN “make” us give up. 

But they can’t. 

And that’s why we’re going to win. 

Remember that scene at the end of “The Truman Show” where Truman, determined to sail his boat to the edge of his world, is buffeted by heavy storms sent by the “director” of the show, who is equally determined to drown him? 

We are Truman. 

And, like Truman, we’re not giving up— no matter how intense and scary the storm. 

(Believe me: I understand exactly how intense and scary the storm can get. I’m not guessing. I know what you’re up against.)

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

And remember Truman. 

drglenndoyle

Think MacGyver, not Mr. Perfect.

The most experienced, successful trauma recover-er will not know how to solve EVERY trauma related problem or symptom that crops up. 

That happens. 

And that’s utterly normal. 

As it turns out, NO ONE knows how to solve EVERY problem, trauma related or otherwise, that comes across our radar screen. 

I’m talking about the smartest, most has-their-sh*t together trauma survivor in recovery you can imagine. 

I’m talking about Trauma Recovery Ninjas with years of experience, who have significantly changed their life through recovery skills, tools, and philosophies. 

Not even THEY know how to handle EVERY problem that crops up. 

Maybe you can give yourself a break for not immediately knowing how to manage or resolve EVERY symptom you experience. 

The reality is, trauma recovery is not about “knowing”…well, anything. 

It’s not like we’re handed a Book of Secret Knowledge, and suddenly we know how to effortlessly metabolize every trauma response or cognition we have. 

(Trust me, if that book were possible to write, I would write it and immediately give it away for free.)

This isn’t about “knowledge” or “intelligence.” There are plenty of trauma survivors who are literally brilliant, who get their brains beat in by trauma responses on the regular. 

What trauma recovery is actually about, is adaptation. 

It’s about how we approach the situation when we have literally no idea what to do. 

Everybody reading this has had a trauma response that has hit us in the face, and we have had literally no idea how to begin managing or processing it. 

(If you haven’t had this experience, just wait, you will.) 

The fact that we have no idea what the hell to do doesn’t mean we’re toast. 

It means we have to fall back on our trauma recovery skills, tools, and philosophies and start asking some good Recovery Supporting Questions (RSQ’s)— no more, no less. 

Speaking for myself, when a particularly intense trigger smacks me in the face, I usually have to run through a few RSQ’s before I start to get a handle on what to do— and then I have to experiment with a few tools before I find one that really “clicks.” 

Don’t get up in your head about “knowing” how to handle a situation. 

Trauma recovery is about being MacGyver, not Mr. Perfect. 

Don’t get precious and don’t get perfectionistic. Remember that literally EVERY trauma recovery skill, tool, or philosophy is a work in progress— and it’s your mission to fine tune ALL the tips and tricks you’re learning to fit your needs. 

If the world’s most accomplished trauma recover-ers get their ass kicked by trauma responses for a minute before they get their sh*t together and manage them, maybe you can let up on yourself a little bit. 

You’re a work in progress and trauma recovery is a dark ride. 

Grace over guilt. 

drglenndoyle

Scratch. That. Sh*tty. Record.

You are not making a “choice” to talk to yourself like your bullies and abusers talked to you. 

You are responding to conditioning. 

You are running a pattern— a pattern so familiar that it feels “right.” 

Hell, you’re running a pattern so familiar that you’re probably not even aware it’s a pattern. It’s just “the way things are.” 

A lot of trauma symptomatology is like that. 

We do these things because we were programmed to, and we do them very effectively because we have a lifetime of practice at it— not realizing that we’re actually being unkind and unfair to ourselves. 

Then, when some dork of a therapist like myself comes along and tells you it doesn’t have to be like that, you’re skeptical as hell— because in your nervous system, there’s just no other way for it to be. 

After all, what would a day without shredding yourself for the smallest mistake realistically look like? 

What would a day without fantasizing about suicide look like? 

What would a day without denying and disowning feelings and “parts” of ourselves we feel shame about actually look like? 

We don’t know. Our nervous system never really considered the possibility. 

Or, maybe our nervous system DID consider the possibility— but we decided we didn’t “deserve” a day without kicking the sh*t out of ourselves. 

Or we decided that if we failed to kick the sh*t out of ourselves today, then we’d somehow be punished for it— that life would come along and kick the sh*t out of us anyway, so we may as well do it to ourselves first. 

Because then we’d be in “control” of our own ass kicking, right? Right? 

Or something. 

Changing that pattern starts with understanding we’re not making a “choice,” and we don’t need to feel shame about it. 

No one reading this woke up this morning and just decided to talk to themselves like their bullies and abusers talked to them. 

What actually happened was, we woke up this morning, and our patterns of self-talk and mental focus were what they were, what they have been for decades— and we did what every human does, we went along with our conditioning. 

That’s how conditioning works. 

Interrupting that old conditioning means scratching the record— and I’ll spoil the suspense, that’s uncomfortable as hell. 

Every human struggles to change patterns that have been deeply conditioned and heavily reinforced in their history. Just ask any smoker. 

The good news is, patterns can be interrupted and records can be scratched— if we’re willing to pay the price, that is. 

The price of interrupting these particular patterns is called “trauma recovery.” And it’s a hassle. 

It’s often inconvenient and uncomfortable and counterintuitive, and we often end up hiring a professional to help us do it if we can. 

But you don’t have to roll with your old conditioning indefinitely. 

People have been radically changing their patterns and lives ever since ancient times. 

You are not the exception to the fact that realistic change is possible. 

You did not choose your trauma conditioning— but you can choose to scratch the f*ck out of that sh*tty record, minute by minute, choice by choice. 

Breath by intentional breath. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery is self-reconnection.

CPTSD tries to cut us off from ourselves. 

I know that might sound strange, but that’s the bottom line of what it does. 

CPTSD tires to drive wedges between the “parts” of us, such that we’re not in touch, we’re not collaborating, and we’re not caring for or about those “parts” of us. 

We’re not making a “choice.” It’s programming, conditioning. 

This is almost impossible to explain to someone who doesn’t struggle with CPTSD, but many survivors reading this know exactly what I mean. 

That sense of self-alienation. 

That sense of not feeling like yourself, for no discernible reason. 

That sense that there are “parts” of us that hold and need things—but which we can’t quite access, and we’re never sure why. 

It can all sound “crazy” to a non-CPTSD survivor. 

But for survivors, dissociation, depersonalization, and derealization are often everyday occurrences. 

They often occur so regularly that we don’t even register them as particularly unusual or remarkable events. 

Dissociation happens when we’re reflexively, involuntarily removed from, cut off from, distanced from, or made unaware of something we feel, need, remember, or otherwise experience. 

Depersonalization is when we don’t feel like ourselves. We know we ARE ourselves— but we don’t feel real. 

Derealization is when the world around us doesn’t feel real. When we feel floaty, or as if everything is unfamiliar, strange, or overwhelming. 

All of these are more common experiences for CPTSD survivors than is commonly acknowledged— even by survivors. 

We often don’t acknowledge these things because we don’t love them. They’re disorienting and inconvenient and sometimes scary. 

And, not for nothing, we sometimes don’t even realize we’re experiencing them in the moment. 

(That’s kind of the problem with symptoms that f*ck with our sense of presence and reality.) 

It all comes back to CPTSD trying to alienate us from ourselves— from our memories, our emotions, our needs, and even our physical reality. 

Realistic recovery from CPTSD always involves reconnection— first and most importantly, with ourselves. 

It always involves rediscovering who we are and what’s authentic and essential to us. 

We are simply not recovering while remaining splintered and scattered and floaty. We have a life to live here.

That’s NOT to say recovery from CPTSD (or DID, for that matter) involves “parts” going away— quite the opposite, actually. 

What recovery DOES involve is lowering the barriers between “parts.” 

It DOES involve giving “parts” opportunities to support each other. 

It DOES involve us being as grounded in the current moment as much as possible— not because the current moment is always great (sometimes the current moment absolutely sucks), but because right here, right now, is where we have our power, our autonomy, our wiggle room. 

CPTSD must fail to divide and conquer us from within. 

We need to have a united internal front— and an internal environment in which “parts” know, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are wanted, needed, listened to, and protected. 

Breathe; blink; focus.