You can think about all this in terms of, “I have to work my trauma recovery every single f*cking day for the rest of my life”— but I wouldn’t recommend it.
Rather, I would recommend you think in terms of, “every day, for the rest of my life, the tools, skills, and philosophies I’ve developed in my recovery are there for me. I’m not alone in this.”
Trauma Brain is going to try to get you to think of recovery as something you “have” to do— but which would you would’t choose to do if you didn’t “have” to.
Here’s the thing: no one “has” to work a trauma recovery.
We do “have” to somehow deal with what’s happened to us in our life, and we do “have” to somehow manage the feelings, memories, and reactions we’re experiencing. We don’t get a choice about any of that.
But we do get a choice about whether or not to work a recovery. No one can “make” us.
The only difference will be whether we’re trying to handle the overwhelming symptoms and struggles of trauma on our own, with no plan or coherent approach— or whether we’re meeting our symptoms with a blueprint, a realistic game plan, and tools for the task that we’re constantly upgrading.
I know which alternative I prefer. Because for a long time I tried to wing it, and that got me exactly where it got me.
As long as we think of recovery as a burden, instead of an opportunity, we are going to resent it.
The truth is, trauma recovery is not a burden. Trauma is a burden.
Flashbacks are a burden.
Body memories are a burden.
Dissociative splitting that interferes with our ability to function and relate is a burden.
Recovery is nothing or less than a commitment to meeting our symptoms and needs with radical presence, radical compassion, and a realistic acknowledgement that we are, and probably always will be, vulnerable in certain ways.
You don’t want to go into a fight not having trained, not having scouted out your opponent, and not having devised a game plan for when sh*t goes sideways.
That’s what trauma recovery is: your training program for the fight that is your life.
I would not wish traumatic experiences on anyone. If I had my druthers, my job as a trauma specialist wouldn’t exist. I’d be making a living helping people quit smoking or something.
But: none of us, not you reading this nor me writing this, had the option of trauma not existing, did we?
None of us asked for this. The very fact that any of us have to think about the words “trauma” or “recovery” is utterly unfair.
We can’t change that.
We can’t deny or disown the utter f*cking unfairness of all of this— nor can we deny or disown the reality of it.
Trauma recovery is about embracing reality, because we have things to do with our life that have nothing to do with trauma.
We have relationships that we want to deepen.
We have have careers we want to advance.
Some of us even have a world to change.
If we’re going to realistically do any of that, we need a coherent, effective set of tools, skills, and philosophies that guide how we respond to our trauma symptoms.
That s to say: we need to work a recovery.
How long will we need to work our trauma recovery? I honestly don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to live my life without learning into a recovery paradigm for my own safety and stability.
Your mileage may vary. But I’m not sure “how long will have I have to do this” is a particularly useful question.
Instead, maybe try, “do I need to work my recovery today?”
In my experience, if you need to ask, the answer is very often, “yes.”
And that’s okay.
Recovery is not your burden. Recovery is your lifeline.
Don’t get it twisted.
Use Your Damn Skills 