Author: drglenndoyle

The quality of our trauma recovery is the quality of our recovery supporting rituals (RSR’s). 

Rituals are things we do every day, usually in some structured way. 

Our trauma recovery is not going to succeed or fail based on what we do every now and then. 

Truth is, we can have some pretty rough days in trauma recovery, and still be on an upward trajectory. 

But it’s also the case that interspersing the occasional recovery supporting behavior into a regular behavioral “diet” of recovery interfering behaviors won’t amount to much. 

If we’re serious and realistic about trauma recovery, we need recovery rituals. 

Your specific trauma recovery rituals are going to be unique to you. The things I do every day may or may not support you in your recovery. 

A big task of trauma recovery is getting curious and specific about about what habits of thought, focus, and behavior actually support our recovery, and turning these into rituals. 

Remember: in trauma recovery, the name of the game is rewiring our nervous system. 

We’ve been conditioned to think, feel, believe, and do certain things that, right now, are inconsistent with our recovery. 

If we we want to think, feel, believe, and do things that will support our recovery, we’re going to be up against the power of conditioning. The power of programming. 

Our nervous system isn’t going to like that we’re trying to change those particular neural pathways. Our nervous system never likes when we try to rewire conditioned neural pathways. 

Our nervous system would prefer we leave it the hell alone, to function the way it’s been conditioned to function, thank you very much. 

Interrupting old neural pathways that make make us vulnerable to trauma responses, and rerouting those neural pathways to very different places entails making making changes in the physical architecture, the physical structure, of our nervous system. 

We don’t do that by doing a different thing once or twice. 

We do that by doing a different thing over, and over, and over again. 

The whole process is similar to what happens when we strength train in the gym. At first, the whole process hurts. 

Our body would very much prefer we let it continue on not lifting those heavy weights, thank you very much. 

Strength training is painful because we are literally changing the physical structure of our body, and bodies resist being changed like that. 

The only way it’s going to work is to make going to the gym and lifting those weights a habit. A ritual. 

No one who ever built significant strength in their body did so by strength training every once in awhile, or when they felt like it. 

Similarly, no one who ever realistically, sustainably recovered from trauma did so by work their recovery every once in awhile, or when they felt like it. 

I know. I hate all this, too. 

I would much rather just go with the flow, and let my mood dictate my behavior. 

Many of us who grew up coerced or controlled get resentful when we’re told we “have to” do anything. 

Here’s the thing: none of us has to do, well, anything. 

We are completely free to keep living the way we’ve been living. 

But we are also free to decide that the cost of not working our recovery has gotten way too high. 

We’re free to choose the pain and hassle of recovery— of mental and spiritual “strength training”— over the pain and hassle of trauma responses and symptoms. 

If you care about it, ritualize it. 

If it works, ritualize it. 

If it’s essential to your trauma recovery, ritualize it. 

Rituals are how realistic trauma recovery is constructed. 

There may be many reasons why we struggle to feel like we can express ourselves accurately— including complex trauma. 

Complex trauma is trauma that endured over time; that was functionally inescapable; and that entwined with our important relationships— that is, trauma we had to adapt to, that just became the context of our everyday life. 

After awhile, we may not have even realized complex trauma, was trauma. It’s one of the reasons so many complex trauma survivors struggle as adults to acknowledge themselves as “survivors.” 

When we grow up immersed in complex trauma, what we express, how we express it, and to whom we express it can become particularly fraught. 

If we’re growing up in an abusive family, church, or community, how we express ourselves mgt have ben heavily scrutinized. 

It may not have been safe or advisable to express certain things— including the easily observable reality of what was going on. 

A prolonged period  of heavily policed expression can do a real number on our beliefs about self-expression and our ability to express ourselves. 

One of the ways many survivors adapt to complex trauma is by internalizing the rules, attitudes, and beliefs of our abusers— because if we can police or punish ourselves, our nervous system reasons, we run less risk of getting into trouble with the people around us. 

Over time, self-censorship and self-punishment become so conditioned in us that we barely even realize we’re doing it— much like trauma became such a part of our everyday existence t became hard to recognize as “trauma.”

This conditioning then follows us, even after we’re away from our family or church or community— and we and ourselves out in the world, struggling to express things we feel should be “easy” to put words to. 

What’s more, even when we are able to put words to things, we often find ourselves doubting and questioning whether the words we’re using— or the body language and/or facial expressions that go with those words— are actually conveying what we think they are, or what we want to convey. 

So many survivors carry around such shame when it comes to our struggles with self-expression. 

We tell ourselves that communication should com “easy” to humans— after all, doesn’t it come “easy” to everybody else we know? 

We tell ourselves there must be something “wrong” with us, to have such anxiety about what seems to be such a normal behavior for so many other people. 

In trauma recovery we need to remember that we don’t, actually, know how “easy” or “hard” anything is for anyone else. We know how hard something, like self-expression, is for us, and we assume that everyone else must have it figured out. 

(They don’t, by the way. Lots of people struggle with self-expression for lots of reasons— whether or not they “seem” like it’s a problem for them or not.) 

We also need to remember that, even if we struggle with self-expression, that struggle makes sense given what we grew up with. It’s not a matter of intelligence— and it’s certainly not a “choice.” 

It’s not unusual for trauma survivors to be so anxious about self-expression that we literally practice what we’re going to say in advance, sometimes a lot. (I guarantee there are some survivors reading this who assumed they were the only ones who did that.) 

We get better at, and more confident with, self-expression as we get more practice at it— and as we get better at extending ourselves patience, compassion, and grace when it comes to ALL of our complex trauma symptoms and struggles. 

As with all of our symptoms and struggles, what is most important is that we not judge or belittle ourselves for it. 

Our symptoms are our symptoms. They can be frustrating, and they can present certain obstacles to our day to day living goals— but they are what they are. 

Our symptoms are not indictments of our “character,” or condemnations of our “intelligence;” and the are certainly not “choices.” 

Grace over guilt. As we work our recovery, we’re going to get lots of opportunities to practice self-expression. And hopefully, along the way, we’ll encounter people who are safe and trauma informed enough to prove us with useful, compassionate feedback on how we express ourselves. 

It’s a symptom. No more; no less.

And just like every symptom, we have to meet it in recovery with the patience, understanding, and care that its core wound requires. 

Sometimes our trauma responses will be directly traceable to things we clearly remember happening to us— but not always. 

Often our trauma responses can be triggered not by anything specific to our trauma— but by the “vibe” or “feel” of a situation. 

Our trauma responses always make sense, some way, somehow, at least to a part of us— but the “sense” they make isn’t necessarily logical or linear. 

This is why techniques of psychotherapy that try to get us to “logic” our way out of a feeling, like cognitive behavioral therapy, have never been my favorite tools— because trauma responses aren’t always, or even usually, about “logic.” 

Trauma survivors know well that the things we think and believe when we’re triggered into trauma responses have little or nothing to do with logic— even though we may “know,” in the moment, that we’re not responding “rationally.”

The fact that trauma responses are frequently triggered and depend by “vibes,” rather than any explicit connections to anything we remember experiencing, is also why I’ve always been kind of “meh” about exposure therapy for PTSD. 

There truly are some people out there who believe that trauma symptoms and struggles are mostly, or entirely, about how we remember and explicitly reexperience things from the past. 

Trauma survivors know: there are many ways to reexperience something— and many of those ways don’t have anything to do with an explicit memory. 

Post traumatic struggles are not just about what happened to us, or how we remember them. 

They’re about how what happened to us, affected us— notably our baseline level of anxiety, our beliefs, and our self-esteem. 

If trauma symptoms and struggles were “just” about what happened to us or our memories, PTSD would be easier to resolve. Maybe we could straightforwardly logic or expose our way out of it. 

But vibes? Vibes are harder to wrangle. 

We need to understand that our nervous system pays attention to context and subtext.

The details of a situation may or may not resemble anything we’ve ever experienced in the past— but our hypervigilant nervous system isn’t just sniffing for details. 

It’s sniffing for the “feel” of a situation or person. 

It’s sniffing for danger that our conscious mind may not register as danger. 

It’s sniffing for things we haven’t thought about or paid attention to. 

It’s sniffing for things that we may not even have the words to explain why they feel familiar in an awful way. 

If our nervous system becomes reactive to a trigger that we can’t quite put our finger on, or we can’t quite understand how it’s related to anything we’ve experienced, our job is to not deny, disown, or reject that reaction— but to get curious and respectful. 

Our first temptation, when a trauma response hits us, is often to list reasons why our response is illegitimate. Why it “doesn’t make sense.” Why we “shouldn’t” be having it. 

I need you to resist that temptation. 

The fact that we don’t understand a trauma response in the moment isn’t nearly as important as how we respond to it. 

We are not going to diminish the intensity of a trauma response by invalidating it, any more than we’re going to banish the thought of a pink elephant by repeating, “don’t think about a pink elephant, there’s no reason to think about a pink elephant.” 

The skill involved here is what we call “radical acceptance.” Radical acceptance doesn’t ‘mean we LIKE a particular response— it means we accept the reality and legitimacy of a response even, especially, if we don’t like it. 

If we’re serious about decreasing our vulnerability to trauma responses, we’ve gotta give up this BS (Belief System) that we “need” to understand them, or that they “need” to have a clear connection to our trauma history to be “legitimate.” 

Lead off with acceptance. 

Lead off with the assumption that this response makes sense— some way, somehow, to some part of you. 

Lead off with compassion and patience. 

You know— like with any symptom, thought, feeling, response, or need you have in trauma recovery. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

You’re getting better. 

Trauma recovery tip: focus on getting through the day. Don’t worry if it’s pretty. Don’t worry if it’s perfect. 

(Trust me: it’s not gonna be pretty OR perfect. Not now, anyway. And that doesn’t matter.) 

For many survivors working our trauma recovery, it’s a daily battle to not get into our head about whether or not we’re dong this “right.” 

“This” could be anything, from recovery, to parenting, to our professional role, to being a son or daughter. 

Our trauma conditioning really, really loves to tell us that we’re doing most of what we do “wrong.” 

Trauma Brain will have a whole list of things we’ve done wrong, in the short term and the longer term, if we ask it. 

Remember what what Trauma Brain is: it’s the internalized voices, beliefs, and attitudes of our bullies and abusers— whether those bullies and abusers happened to be people, or communities, or churches. 

Trauma Brain represents what we took in— what now feels “right,” because it feels familiar. 

Much of our everyday programming is just us regurgitating what we were told and what we saw modeled. 

For many of us, that means we’re telling ourselves how much we suck, and we’re reenacting patterns of being cruel to ourselves— because we were often told how much we suck, and we often experienced people being cruel to us. 

For many of us, the self-cruelty kicks in so automatically, so reflexively, that we barely notice it. It just feels “right.” We don’t even acknowledge it as something that was conditioned in us— and something that may not represent reality. 

When we do have the thought that maybe the the things we have on repeat in our head may not be exactly true, we often use it as an opportunity to be even crueler to ourselves— because how could we think such stupid things? 

It’s real important to remember: these patterns of mental focus and self-talk that are kicking our ass aren’t “choices” were making. We are responding to conditioning. We are running programs that were “installed” by repeated experiences. 

The fact that we can, with practice, learn to shift our focus and choose different self talk doesn’t mean we suffered for years because of poor “choices.” 

We didn’t know what we didn’t know; and we couldn’t do what we couldn’t do. 

We do better as we learn better; as we take the risk, again and again, of being kind to and patient with ourselves, in defiance of old programming that insists we don’t “deserve” it. 

We do not need to radically shift how we talk to or behave toward ourselves today. That would be awesome; but that’s not how realistic, sustainable trauma recovery tends to work. 

Don’t worry about switching up everything in your nervous system today. Remember: the name of the game is getting though today, 1% safer, 1% more stable. 

I will take realistic, sustainable, 1% nudges over dramatic, unsustainable shifts every day. 

Usually the quest to do our trauma recovery— or anything else— “perfectly” is a distraction. A trap. A red herring. 

Usually the drive toward “perfection”— can you imagine, “perfection,” in a project as gritty and chaotic as trauma recovery?— is Trauma Brain trying to derail us with an unrealistic, unnecessary side quest. 

Don’t worry about pretty or perfect. My own recovery has been anything but. As has the recovery of almost everyone I know who has stuck with it. 

You just focus on getting through the day. 

Which means getting through the hour. 

Which means getting through this minute. This one, right here. 

Spending these few minutes reading this blog was a good start. 

See, lookit you— making Recovery Supporting Decisions (RSD’s) even as you sit there. 

You’re on the right track. 

The little steps will add up. 

Not immediately. Often not in ways that will keep us consistently motivated. 

But they will add up. They will go somewhere. 

Many survivors in trauma recovery struggle with taking those little steps, not because we’re not motivated, and not because we’re not committed— but because our trauma conditioning has led us to believe it’s pointless to take any steps. 

One of the symptoms of PTSD is a sense of a “foreshortened future.” 

What that means is, we come to believe that either the world or our life is going to be ending soon anyway, so what’s the point of anything? 

This sense of foreshortened future can lead to what I call “doom attacks”— which are kind of like panic attacks, only instead of intense bursts of panic, they’re sudden, overwhelming feelings that The End Is Near and Everything is Hopeless. 

It’s hard to convince ourselves to take even baby steps when we’re convinced The End Is Near and Everything Is Pointless. 

We need to be clear about the fact that all of this is Trauma Brain creating noise to distract and derail us from our trauma recovery. 

Then truth is, little steps do add up. In fact, almost every big piece of movement in trauma recovery, or any long term project, is the end result of consistent, purposeful baby steps. 

Everybody who has ever worked a trauma recovery has done so baby step, after baby step, after baby step. 

What we need to remember, as we’re taking our little steps, is that trajectory is more important than speed. 

It matters more that our steps are consistent and headed in the right direction, than how fast we’re stepping or the size of our steps. 

The power of our trauma conditioning lies in its consistency. We were conditioned over, and over, and over, usually over the course of years. We were told certain things over, and over, and over. We were treated in certain ways over, and over, and over. 

Our trauma conditioning has a significant head start on our recovery reconditioning. 

That said, our trauma conditioning cannot, will not, outlast our baby steps toward recovery— provided we don’t get discouraged and get inconsistent with our baby steps. 

One thing I learned running marathons is: you absolutely WILL reach the finish line, if you keep moving forward. It may not be fast, it may not be pretty— but you WILL get there. 

Trauma recovery is the same way. 

We WILL create and live a life worth living— if we keep moving forward with purpose and consistency. 

Our trauma conditioning is not infinite. It can feel infinite, because by the time we get around to understanding what it is and trying to do something about it, it’s usually been kicking our ass for the majority of our life. 

But it is not infinite, and it is not set in stone. In fact, every scrap of modern neuropsych research tells us that our brain is far more malleable for far longer, than we ever previously suspected. 

If we keep taking purposeful little steps in the direction of meaningful recovery, if we stay consistent, if we don’t let the bad days and the apparent lack of progress get up in our head— we will win. 

I don’t need to you be enthusiastic about recovery every day. No one is enthusiastic about recovery every day. I’m not enthusiastic about my recovery every day. 

I don’t need you to have perfect faith in yourself or your recovery every day. Take it from me: your level of “faith” in this whole process is going to be wildly variable day to day. 

I don’t need you to truly believe that every baby step matters. If you’re having a day where you think nothing matters, that’s okay— have whatever kind of day you need to have. 

But I do need you taking the baby steps. 

I do need you nudge, nudge, nudging toward the life you envision. 

I do need you doing the things, even if you’re not feeling the love at this moment. 

Every survivor who has meaningfully recovered from trauma, has at multiple points doubted their ability to recovery from trauma. 

And every survivor who has ever meaningfully recovered from trauma has done so because they kept baby stepping on days when they assumed it was all pointless. 

Don’t believe everything you think. 

Just keep baby stepping.