Author: drglenndoyle

Trauma Brain says a lot of mean, untrue sh*t. A sampling:

“You’re being dramatic.” 

“You shouldn’t feel that.” 

“If you don’t remember it clearly, you have no right to speculate that it happened.” 

“You’re going to be in trouble if you say anything else.” 

“You don’t need that much time.” 

“You don’t need that much space.” 

“You don’t need that much sleep.” 

“You don’t need that much food.” 

“It’s stupid to form such attachments to a fictional character.” 

“You’re stupid.” 

“The number on the scale says you have no discipline.” 

“It was your fault.” 

“You didn’t tell anybody, so you must have liked it.” 

“But they’re family.” 

“But he’s a priest.” 

“If anybody finds out, they’re going to look at you differently.” 

“Your body responded, so you must have liked it.” 

“You didn’t leave, so it must not have been THAT bad.” 

“People have bad things happen to them all the time— doesn’t mean it’s ‘trauma.’” 

“EVERYONE says they have ‘trauma’ these days, you just want attention.” 

“You shouldn’t cry at that.” 

“You shouldn’t cry.” 

“They say they love you, but they don’t mean it. They’re just saying it to be nice.” 

“They say they love you, but they don’t know you very well. Once they get to know you, they obviously won’t love you.” 

“They’re not responding to you because they’re sick of you.” 

“You’re not funny enough.” 

“You’re not smart enough.” 

“You’re not attractive enough.” 

“The world would be better if you weren’t here.” 

“They would be better off without you.” 

“You’re just a burden who doesn’t contribute anything.” 

“You’re choosing to feel bad.” 

“You’re only triggered because you’re not trying hard enough to manage it.” 

“You’re only triggered because you’re too stupid to remember how to manage it.” 

“You can’t handle recovery.” 

“You can’t handle remembering.” 

“You can’t handle life.” 

What a bunch of B.S.. You know, Belief Systems. But the other kind of BS, too. 

For many trauma survivors, it’s not a given that we get to feel what we feel. 

Many of us have been made to feel shame about our feelings— again and again, for years. 

Many of us have been made to feel shame about our feelings by the very people who “should” have created and protected an emotionally safe space for us growing up. 

Our culture doesn’t do a great job of validating feelings. 

It’s so bad that just the word, “validation,” almost carries a stigma. If you go around talking about the importance of “validating feelings,” it’s likely someone will accuse you of being an “oversensitive snowflake.” 

Out there in the culture, the consensus is that it might be okay to feel something— as long as you have a “good reason” to feel it. 

The thing about that is, very often we have no idea why we’re feeling what we’re feeling— all we know is, we’re feeling it. 

Trauma survivors can especially struggle to identify why we’re feeling what we’re feeling, due to years of denying, disowning, and dissociating our feelings. 

(Trauma survivors may even struggle to identify WHAT we’re feeling, let alone “why.”)

The truth of the matter is, feelings are mostly reflexive. We don’t “choose” them. 

Most often our feelings reflect our conditioning and unconscious beliefs about what is or isn’t dangerous, or what does or doesn’t aid in our survival. 

That is to say: there is very little, if any “choice” involved in what we feel. 

Yet, we’re told that consistently feeling painful things indicates something wrong with us. 

Sometimes we’re told that negative feelings indicate a lack of “gratitude.” 

Sometimes we’re told that negative feelings indicate a willfully negative “attitude.” 

Conversely, if someone is consistently feeling positive things, the cultural consensus is that they must be doing something “right” with their life. 

By the time we reach adulthood, we’ve absorbed THOUSANDS of messages about what good or bad feelings mean— and whether we “should” be feeling what we’re feeling. 

An important, core part of trauma recovery is affirming that we don’t need “permission” to feel what we’re feeling. 

We don’t need to apologize for what we’re feeling. 

We don’t need to try to change what we’re feeling just because what we’re feeling makes someone uncomfortable. 

We get to feel what we feel. Full stop. 

What we feel is not a reflection on our character or our work ethic. 

No one feels negatively because they’re “not trying hard enough” to feel good. 

No one feels good because they’re “a better person” than anyone else. 

There are lots of factors that contribute to why we feel what we feel— and the complexity of our emotional lives cannot be surmised in any simplistic judgment. 

We’re not going to realistically, sustainably recover from trauma if we’re busy denying and disowning what we’re feeling. 

Realistic trauma recovery asks us to meet our feelings— WHATEVER they are— with compassion, patience, and curiosity. 

Our feelings are important because we are important. 

Our feelings are inextricably entwined with our needs— and our needs are important. 

Yes, I know— you may not feel it now. That’s common in early trauma recovery especially. We struggle to feel important. 

So, right now, the tool to use might be “act as if.” 

ASSUME your feelings are important. ACT AS IF you and your needs are important. 

Think of it as practice for your nervous system. 

You’re not a burden in relationships. That is, you’re not any more of a burden than ANY of us are in relationships. 

Because the truth is, we’re kind of ALL burdens. 

We kind of ALL have special needs. 

Is it true that those of us who are in trauma recovery have particularly special needs? I suppose— but our needs aren’t all that much more “special” or “burdensome” than many other peoples’ relationship needs. 

Part of the point of getting into relationships is to assume part of our partners’ burdens— to take on at least some of their burdensomeness. 

Have you ever been in a relationship where the other person was hell bent on NOT letting you take on ANY of their “burden?” They’re not particularly satisfying.

If I enter into a relationship with you, I WANT to assume at least some of the burden that is you. 

I WANT to worry about you, at least some. 

I WANT to share your pain. 

I WANT to help you feel and function better than you otherwise would without me. 

Is it “burdensome” to get into relationships at all? You bet— but that’s a feature, not a glitch. 

Many trauma survivors— myself included— do this thing where we think we are nothing BUT burdens to our partners. Many of us avoid relationships because we HATE feeling like burdens. 

I’ll spoil the suspense: you ARE a burden— and so am I. So is every human being on the planet. We ALL have needs— and sharing those needs is a big part of what EVERY relationship, personal or professional, is about. 

We trauma survivors hate that part of relationships, though— sharing our burdens and needs— because we’re often ashamed of our burdens and needs. 

Many trauma survivors are thoroughly convinced that we are nothing BUT burdensome in relationships— that we bring nothing to the table in compensation for or balance with our burdens and needs. 

That’s not reality. That’s Trauma Brain bullsh*t. 

Don’t get me wrong: I believe you when you say you thoroughly BELIEVE yourself to be all burden, all cost and no benefit, all downside and no upside. That’s very often what we survivors very throughly do believe about ourselves. 

But it just ain’t so. 

By trying to minimize or hide our needs to reduce the “burden” we supposedly inflict on our relationship partners, we’re depriving them of one of the most important relationship experiences possible: to give of themselves. 

I know, I know. We HATE the idea of “making” someone give of themselves— but the good news about that is, we can’t “make” anyone do anything. 

If someone is in a relationship with us, that’s part of the deal. 

We don’t get all the fun of caring for our partner— we have to let our partner have the fun of caring for us in some ways, too. 

(Yes, I said “fun”— because caring for a partner you love can be one of the most enjoyable experiences there is.) 

You bring things to the table in relationships. Yes, you. Wonderful things. 

One of those wonderful things is your neediness. Your burdensomeness. 

Letting someone love us is on of the most loving— and, for trauma survivors, one of the most complicated— things we can ever do. 

Escaping an abusive family is a lot like escaping a cult. 

That may sound dramatic— but I believe it’s true. 

Abusive families, like cults, often require members to adhere to a code of silence— especially to anyone outside the group. 

Abusive families, like cults, often require members to pretend to anyone outside the group that not only is everything “fine” on the inside— everything is GREAT. 

(Many people who grew up in abusive families can tell you about the pressure they often felt to affirm their family’s goodness to others.)

Abusive families, like cults, are often subject to the direction of a powerful leader. 

In abusive families, as in cults, questioning the leader is often a ticket to punishment and ostracism. 

Abusive families, like cults, function because their members are dependent upon them. 

For a very long time, most of could not “opt out” of our families— just like it’s not practical or realistic for many cult members to opt out of their involvement with their group. 

Like cults, abusive families often exploit members’ economic dependence on the group specifically. 

Like cults, abusive families often go out of their way to become members’ main, or only, social network or support. 

Abusive families, like cults, often have their own “lore”— stories about why the group is the way it is, and why people outside of the group “wouldn’t understand” what’s actually happening in the group. 

The “leaders” of abusive families, much like the leaders of cults, often claim that their “authority” to dominate and control members comes from God— and to question this authority is to question the divinely inspired, divinely endorsed “plan.” 

Like cults, abusive families tend to limit the information available to members. 

Like cults, abusive families often limit the opportunities for members to socialize or interact with people not in the group— and, like cults, abusive families often frame this as being for members’ “own good.” 

Abusive families, like cults, cultivate the belief that loyalty to the group is the top priority in members’ lives— and if members have a problem with that, it demonstrates a problem with their “character.” 

Escaping from an abusive family, like escaping from a cult, is more difficult than it may seem. 

When trying to escape from an abusive family, members may experience feelings of guilt, shame, or fear— much like when devotees escape a cult. 

When distancing themselves from an abusive family, members might find their economic or social resources very suddenly, very drastically limited. 

Much like devotees escaping a cult, people distancing themselves from an abusive family may feel shame for not having escaped, or tried to escape, earlier— but the truth is, escaping ether an abusive family OR a cult is simply not that easy or straightforward. 

After escaping from an abusive family or a cult, survivors often experience extreme anxiety about EVER getting into another relationship— because they’ve had their loyalty used to hurt them. 

Growing up in an abusive family or getting sucked into a cult leaves emotional scars. 

Those scars are not your fault. Even if you were an adult when you joined a cult.

(No one “joins a cult,” by the way. We join groups or churches that we have every reason to think will enhance our lives— and which are often working effortfully to make red flags appear green.) 

When we’ve grown up in an abusive family, and/or been part of a cult, we can’t pretend that’s NOT a part of our history. 

We need to do what we need to do to recover. 

No shame. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your choice. 

But recovery, is. 

Anyone recovering from trauma is going to have some limitations out there in the world. 

These limitations aren’t anything to be ashamed of. They’re not “choices” we’re making to be “difficult” or “weak.” 

It’s just the case that our nervous system is sensitized in such a way that, for the time being, we need to avoid or limit our exposure to certain people and other triggers for the sake of our safety and stability. 

Does this mean avoiding triggers indefinitely? No. 

Does this mean that we’ll never again be able to do the stuff that right now we can’t? No. 

Does this mean that trauma has “won,” in that it has interrupted our “normal” life or preferred activities? Definitely not. 

The truth is, every human being has certain limitations— and injuries, such a post traumatic stress symptoms and struggles, bring specific limitations. 

There is no human being in this world who can get injured, and just go on living life like they were. 

An injury, by definition, impacts how we feel and function— and, if we want to heal that injury, we need to acknowledge and respect the limitations it imposes on us. 

It is not “weak” to acknowledge the impact of an injury— or to curtail our routine in order to accommodate its healing. 

The realistic management of an injury such as post traumatic stress necessitates that we honor the limitations it imposes upon us. 

Can we work on shifting those limitations as we heal? Of course we can. That’s what physical therapy for physical injuries, and psychotherapy and recovery work for psychoemotional and behavioral injuries, is all about. 

But even if we’re working to change the limitations our injuries impose upon us, we don’t simply ignore those limitations— and we take great care not to push too far, too fast. 

What kind of limitations, specifically, are we talking about acknowledging and honoring when it coms to post traumatic stress? 

We may want to go to certain places— but we just can’t, not right now. 

We may want to go to certain functions (including, but not limited to, family functions)— but we can’t not right now. 

We may want to accept or pursue or return to certain job opportunities— but we can’t, not right now. 

We may want to resume or take up certain hobbies— but we can’t, not right now. 

We may want to watch certain TV shows or go to certain movies or listen to certain podcasts or listen to certain music— but we can’t. Not right now. 

None of this is to say that avoiding things that trigger and otherwise destabilize us indefinitely is the way to heal post traumatic stress. To the contrary, healing trauma almost always involves some form of exposure therapy. 

(By the by, “exposure therapy” is almost never what most people envision when they hear that term— but that’s for another blog.)

But intelligent trauma recovery involves realistically managing our exposure to people, media, and situations that have the potential to compromise our safety and stability. 

This is not about “weakness.” 

This is not about “letting the trauma win” or “letting our abusers win.” 

Managing the limitations our trauma symptoms and struggles impose upon us isn’t even a defeat. Far from it. 

If we’re gonna win in the end, we have to rein in our desire to do too much, too soon. 

When you break a leg, you need to wait for it to heal. It is inadvisable to try to run a race before you’re ready. 

But it’s also inadvisable to not move your leg at all while you’re waiting for it to heal. 

This is not about perpetual avoidance. This is about realistic, intelligent exposure. 

Easy does it. 

Very often, trauma survivors feel as if we’re not expressing ourselves well. 

We feel that no mater what words we use, in what order, we’re just not saying what we really mean— or, at least, saying it in a way that will be truly heard. 

Often we worry that we’re communicating in such a way that, not only will we be misunderstood, but we’re also almost sure to be harshly judged. 

It’s very common for survivors to stop mid-sentence and— no matter how clear or concise we’ve been with what we were saying— say, “I don’t feel like I’m making any sense.” 

More than occasionally, dissociation and/or intrusive thoughts will derail our train of thought. 

Other times, our anxiety about being misunderstood or judged will overwhelm us, even as we’re speaking, and we just can’t continue. 

Communication can be tricky for trauma survivors. We’ve very often had the experience of our own words used against us. 

It’s a common abuse tactic, adjacent to gaslighting, to have someone twist what we actually said into something that sounds nonsensical. 

Sometimes, when we feel misunderstood, we lean in, and try even HARDER to communicate what we mean— but that often just leads to us feeling even MORE mired in quicksand. 

There are times when communication can feel so fraught, that we just want to shut down. Not even try to communicate. 

I know this definitely happens to me, when I’m feeling misunderstood or misrepresented— I shut down. I flash back to the futility of “debating” with my father, and I veer toward a freeze and fawn trauma response, where I’ll say very little— except what I think I need to say to make peace. 

To be not in trouble.

A thing that can make communication especially tricky for trauma survivors is, our nervous system is often vigilant to whether we’re being taken seriously, or patronized or mocked. 

Many trauma survivors are so used to being made fun of when we’re trying to communicate sincerely, that it becomes hard to NOT hear sarcasm or cruelty in almost everything someone says to us. 

When we’re trying to communicate in relationships, we really need to keep an eye on our trauma responses— and we need to be realistic about our go-to trauma responses. 

We need to know when our own expressiveness is being choked off by a “freeze” response; or hijacked by a “fawn” response; or when a “fight” response is adding more “pop” to a verbalization than is warranted at that moment. 

We can’t manage our trauma responses if we don’t know what they look like, and if we’re not on the lookout for them. 

We need to know that relationships generally, and relationship communication in particular, can be rife with triggers for complex trauma survivors. 

Even when we’re interacting with someone we like and trust, old patterns and old triggers can die hard. 

We also need to be prepared to give ourselves the benefit of the doubt when communication goes sideways. 

It doesn’t help ANYONE to blame and shame ourselves for when we just can’t wrangle exactly what we want to say, in exactly the way we want to say it. 

Communication tends to be complicated and fraught for human beings in general, human beings in relationships in particular, and traumatized human beings in relationships specifically. 

The good news is, we can get much better at both expressive and receptive communication in relationships if we approach communication with awareness, intentionality, and compassion. 

That is: if we treat relationship communication like every other task in trauma recovery. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus. 

Kids who grew up neglected often become adults who feel we have to show our work at all times. 

Kids who grew up neglected often become adults who feel guilty for enjoying…well, anything, actually, but specifically entertainment that some might consider “mindless.” 

You know the entertainment I mean. Comfort shows. Popcorn movies. Bops on the radio. 

We so often feel guilty for watching a show we like or— HORROR!— a show we’ve seen before, maybe many times before. 

We tell ourselves we should be “productive.” 

We tell ourselves we shouldn’t watch such “stupid” stuff. 

We tell ourselves we must actually BE “lazy” and “stupid,” if we actually like shows like this, shows many people like.

(We wouldn’t call anyone ELSE “lazy” or “stupid” for liking a show— but, as with all things, we trauma survivors consider ourselves The Exception.)

Feeling shame about liking the things we like is a very common experience for trauma survivors— but you need to know that the shows, music, movies, and other entertainment you like is nothing to be ashamed of. 

I don’t care how “mindless” it is. 

I don’t care how often you’ve watched or listened to it before. 

Here’s the thing about trauma survivors and our entertainment: we very often turn to those shows and movies and songs to express and experience feelings we don’t feel we’re “allowed” to express and experience. 

Maybe we struggle to feel certain things. Maybe we worry that we’ll be “in trouble” if we feel or express certain things. 

Maybe we’ve dissociated certain feelings and needs so thoroughly, that watching them play out in a show or movie or hearing them expressed in a song is like hearing a different language— but one that somehow feels familiar. 

So our shows, our movies, our music? They turn into more than just entrainment. They turn into opportunities for trauma survivors to feel human— in a culture and a world where we very often feel like aliens. 

This is especially true of our “comfort shows.” 

Lots of people reading this— and the person writing this— have shows that they’ve watched EVERY episode of, possibly multiple times…and yet they still put it on in times of trouble. 

(These shows include “Mad Men” and “The Office” for me.) 

Why do we do this? It’s not because we’ve forgotten what’s going to happen. Quite the contrary, actually. 

In times of chaos and unpredictability, “comfort shows” can be incredibly soothing to the traumatized nervous system. 

If you’ve had to spend your life guessing at what the people around you are thinking, feeing, or about to say, it can be REALLY nice to have someplace you can go where you clearly understand the motives of the characters and the next step of the journey. 

On comfort shows, people don’t behave unpredictably. 

With comfort shows, we know which episodes and story beats we might have to skip in order to avoid triggers. 

Comfort shows give us the opportunity to emotionally invest in stories and people that we know won’t attack or betray us. The stakes are low. 

It’s true that trauma survivors like TV shows and movies and pop music for many of the same reasons the rest of the world does— but our emotional wounds and needs often lead us to become more attached to and invested in our entertainment than is common. 

And that’s okay. No shame. 

Comfort shows and popcorn flicks and radio bops can ABSOLUTELY be tools of trauma recovery— maybe secret weapons. 

Feeling misunderstood is a very common trigger for many complex trauma survivors. 

We will do deep back bends, behaviorally and emotionally, to try to prevent being misunderstood. 

We will overexplain. A lot. Like, a lot, a lot. 

We can get very defensive, very quickly, if we feel someone is misunderstanding where we’re coming from, what we’re saying, what we want.

Much of this stems from being not listened to when we were growing up. 

Many of us have convinced ourselves that the problem was, actually, in us— that we didn’t communicate well enough, or we weren’t assertive enough. 

As a result, when we’re misunderstood as adults, it can make us feel ashamed. 

We assume that if we’re being misunderstood, it’s because of our failure. Our inadequacy. Maybe our “weakness” or “stupidity.” 

Feeling misunderstood is a huge trigger for me, personally. 

It brings me back to conversations with my dad, who loved “debate” as a form of communication and entertainment. 

One of his favorite tactics was to reframe whatever you were arguing with the phrase, “so, what you’re saying is…” or “so, to be clear…” 

Of course, this was never an attempt to “be clear.” This was an attempt to get you to agree to his framing of your argument. And his framing of your argument was always designed to make you feel stupid. 

I don’t mind losing debates. (I don’t especially care if I win them, either, actually. As you might guess, my experiences with my father profoundly soured me on all things “debate.”) 

But it makes me crazy to think that somebody thinks I think or feel something I don’t think or feel. 

I want to argue. I want to correct them. I want to explain. 

This is a problem when— as sometimes happens in the world— I’m in an exchange with someone who isn’t, actually, interested in understanding where I’m coming from. 

As I’ve worked my own trauma recovery, I’ve gotten better— sort of— at letting it go when I realize that I’m just going to be misunderstood by a person, and there’s functionally nothing I can do about it. 

But it still makes me crazy. And it leads me to shut down. 

For many complex trauma survivors, feeling misunderstood essentially feels like an attack— because, in certain relationships in our past, that’s functionally what it was. 

You need to know that it’s normal to shut down when you feel attacked. 

You also need to know that there are going to b LOTS of people who want to argue with you in this world for reasons other than whatever the subject at hand is. 

We have to do what we can to not let it get in our head or under our skin. 

For me, feeling attacked and misunderstood keys right into a “freeze” trauma response. Your mileage may vary. 

Letting go of the fantasy that we can make everyone— or anyone— perfectly understand us is hard. 

Trauma Brain tries to tell us we just need to try harder. 

Trauma Brain tries to tell us that, if we just explained it well enough, we wouldn’t be misunderstood. 

It’s not true. You’re going to be misunderstood. I’m going to be misunderstood. It’s going to happen. 

It’s a bummer. Depending on who we’re talking about, it might be a big bummer. Sad. Maddening. Depressing. 

I know. But breathe into it. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

This is where that “radical acceptance” thing comes in handy. 

Complex trauma survivors are very often in the position of wondering, “Do I exist?” 

It might sound strange— but it’s not. Not given what we’ve been through. 

Many complex trauma survivors have been treated like we don’t exist— often by the people to whom we should have been the MOST visible. 

It’s a real mind f*ck to get all these messages from the culture about how our parents or caretakers “should” be the ones who love us unconditionally— but to then have them treat us like we’re a piece of furniture. 

(Sometimes an inconvenient piece of furniture, at that.) 

It’s painful when parents or caretakers treat us like we don’t exist— like we don’t have feelings or needs or perceptions or preferences— but it can be especially painful when we’re made to feel guilty for having feelings about it. 

The truth is, it’s normal to feel empty and sad when the people who “should” love us, don’t— but often, we’re not “allowed” to have those feelings. 

We’re told having those feelings makes us “self centered.” 

We’re sometimes told it’s silly or immature to want to be wanted. 

It is not silly or immature to want to be wanted. 

It’s not silly or immature to be sad when we’re not wanted— especially by those to whom we were the most attached from a very early age. 

Our want to be wanted can be confusing when the people we want to be wanted by, were or are abusive or neglectful to us. 

We can get it in our head that we must be really “f*cked up” to even WANT to be wanted by someone who doesn’t seem to be particularly attached to us. 

This is where complex trauma gets “complex.” 

When we’re young, we don’t get to choose our attachments, any more than we get to choose our parents and caregivers. 

We literally have no choice BUT to attach to whoever is available. 

As we develop psychologically, we get it in our head that their reciprocal attachment to— and their judgment of— us is how we “should’ estimate our own worth. 

It’s all Trauma Brain BS (Belief Systems— but the other kind of BS, too)— but we don’t know that. We CAN’T know that back then.

So— we become dependent (emotionally, or physically, or both) upon people who hurt us. 

This is what’s called a “trauma bond”— and it’s both confusing and psychologically “sticky.” 

Very often, a foundational part of trauma recovery is affirming that we do exist. 

If you’ve struggled with dissociation, you know that may not be as “crazy” as it sounds. 

It doesn’t work to just remind ourselves once we exist, either: we have to repeatedly affirm it. And we have to affirm it in our thoughts, in our words, and in our actions. 

In trauma recovery it’s real important we treat ourselves as if we really do exist, and our existence really does matter. 

Even if we don’t feel it in this moment. Even if we weren’t treated by our caretakers (or teachers, or clergy) like we exist or that our existence matters. 

We need to develop, shape, and contour our neural pathways before the thoughts, feelings, and behaviors associated with them feel natural. 

So: treat yourself as if you exist. 

Affirm that you exist. 

Affirm that it matters that you exist— that the world is a better place BECAUSE you exist. 

I know. Tall order, when trauma conditioning has been kicking our ass for years. 

But we gotta start somewhere to get somewhere. 

Because the people who gave birth to you or raised you, didn’t seem to want you, does not mean there is something wrong with you. 

Because the people who were “supposed” to love and support you, doesn’t mean you’re not lovable or worthy of support. 

There are thousands of people who have the experience of not feeling wanted, loved, or supported by their family of origin. 

We tend to internalize this experience— to assume that it “must” be something about us that “causes” them to respond to us like that. 

After all, family is “supposed” to “unconditionally” want, love, and support you, right? 

Here’s the thing: it’s not anything about you that “cause” that reaction in them. 

We CAN’T “make” someone love us, or not love us. 

We CAN’T “make’ someone want us, or not want us. 

We CAN’T “make” someone support us, or not support us. 

There are all sorts of reasons why people don’t seem to want, love, or support their family members— but it’s never a reflection on your basic worth. 

Yeah. I said “never.” (Cue someone arguing in the comments that “well, SOMETIMES…”)

It is not on you, as either a child or adult, to “earn” someone’s love. 

At this time of year, so many adults are headed into family situations where relatives will superficially go through the motions of wanting, loving, or supporting them— but they’ll feel like a Martian trying to fit in at those occasions. 

Certain family functions in adulthood seem almost fiendishly designed to induce emotional flashbacks, specially in survivors of abuse or neglect. 

We flash back to feeling unwanted. Unloved. Unsupported. 

And we frequently flash back to our absolute conviction that if we just try hard enough; if we say just the right thing; if we just achieve enough…maybe we’ll be “worthy” of “their” love. 

Maybe if our body is just the right shape or size this year. 

Maybe if we bring along just the right romantic partner. 

Maybe…maybe…maybe.

Emotional flashbacks around the holidays are particularly insidious, because they dredge up feelings that we very often try to bury during the rest of the year. 

This feelings often include the conviction that we’ve disappointed and failed our family of origin— that whatever we’ve done with our lives, hasn’t been enough. 

That we’ve failed to “earn” the “right” to be wanted, loved, and supported. That we’ve somehow forfeited that right. 

You need to know that no matter how strongly you might be feeling that right now, it’s bullsh*t. 

We don’t “earn” or “forfeit” our lovability. 

There will always be part of us that thinks we can “solve for (X)” in the equation of “how can I get my family to want, love and support me?” 

We want to think it’s a solvable equation. 

We want to think we can fawn our way into feeling comfortable and safe within our family. 

But that’s an illusion. There is no solution to that equation, because there can’t be. 

And that is not your fault. 

It’s not about you. 

Maybe you are or aren’t wanted, loved, or supported by your family of origin. You need to know that you’re definitely not alone— and it has ZERO to do with your worth or the value of your life. 

It sucks. But it does not mean what Trauma Brain is trying right now to convince you it means. 

I know. But breathe into the grief. 

Breathe; blink; focus.