Tell me a tale– something with fire, to break from the sorrows.

Question the stories that make you miserable. The ones that you’ve been conditioned to tell yourself— and to believe. 

It’s not your fault that you were conditioned to tell and retell those stories to yourself, all day, every day, in you head. That’s how conditioning works. 

It’s not your fault that you were conditioned to believe stories that make you feel miserable. That’s how conditioning works. 

Nobody reading this is miserable because they’ve made a “choice” to be. 

We struggle and suffer because we’ve been conditioned to think, feel, and do certain things— and to tell ourselves stories about why we “have” to think, feel and do those things. 

That’s what so many people don’t understand about trauma responses: they are not “choices.” 

Conditioning, programming, brainwashing— they all act upon us without our consent, often without our knowledge, even. 

Many of the “decisions” we think we’ve made over the years have been far less “free” than we realize— because many of us have been subject to heavy conditioning. 

Life conditions everybody to think, feel, and do certain things— but when we’ve experienced trauma, that conditioning tends to be particularly insidious. 

Trauma conditioning tends to get us believing stories about how we’re not good enough. 

Trauma conditioning tends to get us believing stories about how our abuse was our fault. 

Trauma conditioning tends to get us believing stories about how the fact we were neglected is evidence that we weren’t, or aren’t, deserving of positive attention or getting our basic needs met. 

Trauma conditioning tends to get us believing stories about what is or isn’t possible for our life. 

Trauma conditioning tends to get us believing stories about whether we can form or sustain relationships. 

Trauma conditioning tends to get us believing stories about what will absolutely, definitely, without question, happen next, in our life and in the world. 

Mind you: those stories are just that. Stories. 

Some of them may contain kernels of truth— but almost never in the way our trauma conditioning is presenting the “facts.” 

Trauma recovery necessarily involves questioning the stories our trauma conditioning is telling us— and make no mistake, that is absolutely easier said than done. 

In addition to getting us telling and believing stories about how much we suck, our trauma conditioning is also real good at getting us to believe that we’ll be “in trouble” if we question or challenge the stories its telling us. 

We wind up in this position where we have stories, on repeat, inside our head, telling us how much we suck and how hopeless we are— and also, stories about how if we question or challenge those stories, we’re going to get yelled at or punished. 

That “in trouble” feeling is a potent scarecrow for many trauma survivors of all ages. So our stories remain unquestioned, usually for years. 

Questioning and challenging the stories trauma tells us about ourselves takes courage. 

It takes a willingness to sit with discomfort and uncertainty— which is hard, when one of the main storylines trauma has told us over the years is that we “can’t” or “shouldn’t have to” sit with discomfort or uncertainty. 

The truth is, of course we can. 

The truth is, we are far more capable and resourceful and deserving than we have ever given ourselves credit for. 

The truth is, the way we were hurt and made to feel growing up does not have to dictate the timbre of our emotional world for the rest of our life. 

Realistic trauma recovery requires the courage and willingness to interrupt our stories. 

It requires us to have the creativity and curiosity necessary to consider revising, editing, or rewriting altogether our stories about who we are and what we’re all about. 

As any writer can tell you, that can be an intimidating process. 

Which is why we take it one page, one paragraph, one sentence at a time. 

You’re up to this. Breathe; blink; focus.