Author: drglenndoyle

You and I are not for everyone— and that’s okay. 

Although there’s going to be a voice in your head that is going to try, hard, to insist that it’s NOT okay. 

If you’re reading this, chances are you’ve had experiences in your life that not everybody is going to understand. 

Those experiences may not be easy to explain. Trying to explain them may cause embarrassment or spike shame in us. 

The reactions and responses those experiences have created in us may not be easy to explain. And they’re often VERY difficult for other people to understand. 

The truth is, after we’ve ben through certain things, our capacity to relate to other people is often altered. 

We often have difficultly relating to people who can’t, or won’t, understand what we’ve been through. 

And we can’t just ignore that fact. 

It took me a long time to accept that I was never probably going to have a relationship of much depth with people who didn’t share at least some of the experiences I’ve had. 

Because there’s no explaining— not really— what I go through when my addiction is pouring poison in my ear. 

There’s no explaining— not really— what I go through when my instinctive fear and hatred of abandonment is spiked because of something in the present that’s triggered memories of the past. 

I may WANT to explain those things to someone— but the real truth is, not everybody on the planet is going to “get” it. Not really. 

So we’re faced with the reality that having experienced certain things DOES kind of limit the pool of human beings with whom we’re probably going to have particularly deep friendships or relationships. 

This used to make me really sad. 

Like every complex trauma survivor, I was already convinced that there was something “wrong” with me, and I didn’t feel I could particularly AFFORD for the pool of friends and relationship partners out there to be any smaller than it already was. 

Now, I feel a little differently. 

One of the things experiencing trauma tends to do to many people, myself included, is it decimates any inclination we ever had to engage in small talk or superficial conversations. 

It took me a LONG time to realize that my massive social anxiety was at least partially due to the fact that my past has left me almost allergic to talking about the weather. 

I know now that the people with whom I’m ever going to be particularly close are probably going to be those people who, like me, like to dive deep— who see no point in playing in the shallow end of the pool. 

I know I’m not for everyone. My intensity; my complexity; my struggles and what I’ve had to do to conquer and contain those struggles— they’re all working against me when it comes to establishing and enjoying uncomplicated relationships. 

But I know now that’s okay. 

I know now that those experiences, as painful as they’ve been, have actually made it so that I’m FORCED to examine the questions of what I want and need in relationships. 

They’ve FORCED me to ask questions about who I am that I might not have otherwise gotten around to. 

 I wouldn’t say I’m grateful for these reflective opportunities. I’m not, particularly. 

But I am at the point where I don’t hate the fact that my past has probably limited my prospects for friendships and relationships. 

After all, who wants to talk about the weather anyway? 

Dealing with regret in trauma recovery can be really tricky. 

A lot of trauma recovery is letting go of things we weren’t responsible for and accepting things we could not change. 

That work is hard enough for most survivors. Most of us have been conditioned to believe that the things we endured were our fault. 

Often in recovery, we’re exhorted to “take responsibility” for our lives— which, to a lot of people, seems to mean blaming ourselves for whatever we went through and the emotions and behaviors that have developed in the aftermath. 

What we learn in trauma recovery is that the truth of “taking responsibility” is often nuanced: while it ABSOLUTELY requires us to take responsibility for the choices and responses we DO have influence over, it also requires us to place appropriate blame on the bullies and abusers who caused us pain in the past, and relinquish our need to control emotions and behaviors that we DON’T have influence over. 

Sorting through all of that can be a bitch. It can take awhile. We can’t rush it and we can’t be glib about it. 

Then there’s regret. Things we did, and wish we hadn’t. Things that we wish every day we had the chance to do over or undo. 

Sometimes our regrets are related to our trauma history, but in my experience, often they’re not. 

My own regrets deal mostly with my relationship history. 

My brain loves to remind me of times when I didn’t express things I should have expressed; when my boundaries were either too rigid or too relaxed; when I prioritized my comfort and what I perceived to be my emotional safety over authenticity and intimacy. 

I can look at my relationship history and see where my experience as a survivor of complex trauma influenced my behavior in relationships and friendships—  but while contextualizing my behavior can help explain some of it, it doesn’t change that a lot of my relationship decisions in the past strike me now as infuriatingly immature and inauthentic. 

When we think of our regrets, we tend to cringe. 

And for survivors of complex trauma, it’s REAL easy to let that train of thought lead us to a pretty dark place. 

Complex trauma survivors often believe we are broken. That we just can’t function normally, especially in relationships. That we’re hopeless and may as well not even try to get close to people. 

The truth is, human beings of EVERY background struggle with relationships at times, and making poor relationship decisions shouldn’t mean a “sentence” of lifelong loneliness for ANYONE; but because complex trauma survivors come with the baggage we come with, it’s easy for us to get into that groove when we’re reflecting on our relationship history. 

It is for me, anyway. 

If you follow my work, you know the emphasis I place on self-compassion. Talking ourselves through rough moments. Being on our own side, having our own back. 

It’s REALLY hard to do that when we’ve been ruminating on our regrets. Particularly our relationship failures. 

The bitch of it is: it’s in those moments, when it’s REALLY hard, that it’s MOST important to be on our own side. 

To have our own back. To not abandon ourselves. 

To not buy in to what we were told about ourselves once upon a time by our bullies and abusers. To not repeat the behavior of our bullies and abusers toward us. 

Tonight, I’m really struggling with relationship regrets. And, just like many survivors of complex trauma, i’m convinced that nobody in the universe could possibly understand my pain, its complexity, its nuance. 

After all, I, like every complex trauma survivor out there, believe that I’m fundamentally alone in my pain, fundamentally unique in my brokenness. 

But I’m not. 

And part of me knows that, too. 

It’s a part of me I’ve developed, on purpose, in the course of my recovery. 

We all need to cultivate a part of us that can sit with the hurt, angry, lonely part of us on nights like this one— when thinking about our regrets has led us down a path. 

We cultivate that compassionate, supportive part of ourselves the same way we develop any part of us: one day at a time, with intentionality and consistency. 

You’re not alone. 

Neither am I. 

Feeling “in trouble” is a major trigger for a LOT of complex trauma survivors. 

It’s a VERY familiar feeling for many of us. It takes us back decades. 

One of the most common triggers to an emotional flashback is feeling “in trouble.” 

It’s also one of the hardest triggers to talk about, because by the time we’re adults we’re supposed to have gotten over that anxiety. 

Adults aren’t “supposed” to freak out at feeling “in trouble.” 

And yet— we do. 

We’re often very good at concealing it, but feeling “in trouble” often absolutely destroys complex trauma survivors. 

Many of us were controlled for a long time with guilt and shame. 

Many of us functioned for a long time under the threat of physical, verbal, or emotional violence. 

Many of us became VERY attuned to the “early warning signs” of being disapproved of. 

Feeling like we’re “in trouble” hits nearly the same trigger button as feeling disliked or rejected. 

We know what comes next— rejection, maybe attack. 

That may or may not be what’s going on in the here and now— but it’s what happened once upon a time, back then…and our nervous system learned to respond to those threat cues. 

Now, as adults, we carry those threat cues around with us. 

We can tell our nervous system that it’s time to give up that hypervigilance— but if you’ve ever tied to have a rational, reasonable conversation with your nervous system, you likely know how that turns out. 

Our nervous system isn’t interested in “rational” or “reasonable.” 

Our nervous system is interested in keeping us as far away from threatening situations and people as possible. 

Over the course of years, our nervous system paid very close attention to the kinds of cues and signals that preceded threatening or violent situations— and it red-flagged them. 

Now, whenever we get even a hint of a whiff of those cues, those red flags spring up— and our nervous system springs into action. 

Feeling “in trouble” can make us feel ashamed. 

It can make us feel young. 

It can make us feel confused and powerless. 

Often, these reactions happen at a gut, instinctual level. They’re not reasoned, thought out, intentional responses. 

That is to say: we may not be able to completely prevent those reactions from happening. 

What we CAN do, though, is recognize what’s going on when it’s going on. 

We CAN learn to recognize the thoughts, feelings, images, and body sensations that go with that “in trouble” trigger. 

We CAN learn to recognize when we’re in an emotional flashback— and from there, the task of MANAGING what’s going on is similar to any OTHER flashback. 

We use our senses to get grounded. 

We talk ourselves through it. 

We use our grounding routines and totems. 

We remind ourselves of who we are, what we’re all about, and when and where we are. 

We breathe; blink; and focus. 

Emotional flashbacks are no fun. Emotional flashbacks are among the most confusing and debilitating symptomatology that occurs in complex post traumatic disorders. 

All we can do is what we can do: recognize them for what they are, and handle them step by step. 

The knowledge and skills you develop in recovery will serve and maybe save you every time. 

I agree— in order to meaningfully recover from trauma, addiction, or anything, else, we DO have to take responsibility for how we feel and function. 

But “taking responsibility” seems to have very different, and sometimes loaded, meanings for people. 

There is a subset of people who seem to think that trauma therapy and recovery is all about blame. 

They resist trauma therapy and recovery because they don’t want to fall into the trap of blaming other people for how they feel and function. They want to “take responsibility.” 

I fully understand not wanting to blame others. And I fully understand wanting to take responsibility for your life. 

But it’s important to remember that realistically taking responsibility means untangling some of the issues surrounding whether the things that happened TO you were your “fault.” 

Many people in trauma recovery experienced abuse or neglect in their early lives that they came to feel responsible for. 

It is OVERWHELMINGLY common for survivors of abuse or neglect to arrive at a narrative that they must not have been “worthy” of love and safety— otherwise, why would the things that happened to them have occurred? 

We often know it doesn’t make “rational” sense. We know that kids don’t ask to be abused, or cannot “make” a caregiver neglect them. 

But nonetheless we carry around this sense that it MUST be our fault somehow. 

We MUST not be good enough. Lovable enough. We MUST not have been attractive or entertaining enough to AVOID having been abused or neglected. 

Those messages die hard in the gut of a trauma survivor. 

Fast forward to adulthood, and we’re faced with recovery tasks that ask us to “take responsibility.” 

Unfortunately, many survivors struggle to separate the concept of “taking responsibility” for their recovery from the self-blame and toxic shame they’ve experienced for years. 

If we’re actually going to take care of the child you once were, and who you still carry around with you in your head and heart now, we NEED to affirm for ourselves that there is NOTHING shameful about having experienced trauma. 

As painful as some of the things were that we experienced, there is NOTHING about us that inherently invited those experiences. 

There may be LOTS of reasons why we WERE abused or neglected— but NONE of those reasons revolve around your “responsibility,” as a victim, to prevent those things from occurring. 

How do we ACTUALLY “take responsibility” for our recovery as adults? 

It’s not by blaming ourselves for our past vulnerability or pain. 

It’s by learning the skills and tools we need TODAY to keep our focus on thing we CAN effect, things we CAN change. 

We CAN take responsibility for focusing on THIS moment. 

We CAN take responsibility for identifying old patterns and experimenting— however awkwardly— with new ones. 

We CAN take responsibility for pushing back against the narrative of self-blame and shame that has been pushed at us by our culture, and maybe even by certain people around us, for years. 

As a person in recovery and as a therapist who supports people in their recovery, believe me, I am all ABOUT responsibility. 

But I’m all about REAL responsibility. 

Not the bullsh*t catchphrase buzzword thrown around for likes and retweets on social media by people who think self-shaming and blaming the kid we once were EVER accomplished anything therapeutic. 

Trauma recovery isn’t about making “excuses.” 

I’ve worked with hundreds, maybe thousands, of trauma survivors. I’ve never once met one who was primarily looking to “excuse” ways they’ve behaved or treated others. 

Trauma recovery IS about understanding. 

It IS about giving ourselves the benefit of the doubt. 

It IS about meeting who we were, and who we are, with compassion and trust, rather than cynicism and hostility. 

Many people come to trauma recovery not thrilled with how they’ve lived their life. 

Many people reading this know what it’s like to feel that you’ve alienated people you used to be close to. 

Many people reading this know what it’s like to have missed out on or sabotaged professional opportunities. (I know that feeling VERY well.) 

Many people reading this know what it’s like to walk around feeling like you simply having lived up to your “potential.” 

Eventually we come to understand that a lot of what we have or haven’t done in our lives may be related to trauma we’ve endured and our nervous systems’ conditioned responses to trauma…but even then, many of us are resistant to really wrapping our heads around that fact. 

After all, we don’t want to make “excuses.” 

Many of us have been conditioned to believe that WE are the problem— and that to acknowledge what may have contributed to our behavior is making an “excuse.” 

Almost every trauma survivor I’ve ever worked with has been very clear that they are NOT interested in “making excuses” for anything. 

In fact, many trauma survivors struggle to even acknowledge the role trauma might have played in their behavior, specifically because they don’t want to avoid responsibility. 

Here’s the thing, though: understanding what’s going on with us is not making an “excuse.” 

There is a BIG difference between an excuse and an explanation. 

The vast majority of the survivors I’ve worked with very much want to understand what the hell is going on with them— but they also very much do not want to reject what they’ve been told is their “responsibility” to “own” their behavior and reactions. 

We can only “own” our behavior and reactions when we understand them in context. 

And we can only realistically change them when we meet what’s going on with us with acceptance and compassion. 

NOBODY has ended up in trauma recovery because they planned or wanted it. 

NOBODY planned or wanted abuse, neglect, or other trauma to dramatically affect their beliefs, thinking, emotions, and behavior. 

EVERYBODY in trauma recovery is in a process of discovering and understanding what the hell is going on. Making it make sense. 

If we’re hell bent on judging ourselves for situations and reactions we didn’t freely choose, we’re NOT going to meaningfully understand what the hell is going on. 

If we start out from a place of judging our past self for reactions that were the result of trauma conditioning, we’re only going to stay at war with our current self. 

I know. Exploring our trauma history and our past behavior with curiosity and compassion is a tall order— ESPECIALLY when we’ve been conditioned to hate and judge ourselves for what we’ve experienced and what we’ve done. 

But self-acceptance is a bedrock of recovery. 

We’re not going to recovery and shame and reject ourselves at the same time. 

We’re not going to forgive and judge our past self at the same time. 

We’re not going to understand and vilify our nervous system responses at the same time. 

Understanding ourselves isn’t about making “excuses.” 

It’s about meaningfully constructing a future— and, when we need to, making amends— WITHOUT having to worry about making excuses. 

The toughest boundaries I ever set were with myself. 

And they are STILL the toughest boundaries I have to enforce every day. 

Growing up, I learned to relate to myself a certain way. Talk to myself a certain way. 

Lots of us grew up learning to relate and talk to ourselves in certain ways that didn’t exactly make us feel awesome. 

Why? Because that’s how we were related to. That’s how we were talked to. 

When we were abused, bullied, or neglected growing up, yes, it’s awful— but it’s also instructive. It “teaches” us what we’re supposedly worth. 

It “teaches” us how we “should” be talked to. 

We get USED to being related to and talked to like we are not worthy. It becomes familiar. 

We internalize it. We learn to talk to ourselves in aways that are self-downing, dismissive, mean. 

Then, when people come along and actually treat us with respect or kindness, it feels…off. Wrong. Weird. 

The reason for that is because it clashes with our conditioning— but we don’t know that. 

All we know is, we have a “feel” for what we “deserve”—and what we “deserve” is to be put down. 

Most of this happens implicitly. We don’t wake up one day and DECIDE that we’re going to treat ourselves like sh*t, because we’ve only BEEN treated like sh*t. 

It just becomes part of our conditioning. Part of our programming. Often the cornerstone, the baseline of our conditioning. 

When I got into recovery, a lot of the stuff I was learning felt “wrong”— because it clashed with what I was used to. 

Recovery asks us to be kind to ourselves. 

Recovery asks us to be on our own side. 

Recovery asks us to give ourselves the benefit of the doubt. 

My conditioning tells me that I don’t deserve ANY of that. My conditioning told me that suggesting I deserved kindness was some sort of “excuse.” That it was me trying to get out of what I “deserved.” 

Turns out: we can’t recover AND talk to ourselves like we’re someone we hate at the same time. 

We have to set limits on how we talk to ourselves. 

When our conditioning nudges us to behave in self-harmful or self-sabotaging ways, we have to set limits with it. 

We have to set boundaries with ourselves. 

And it’s hard. 

My brain wants what my brain wants, when my brain wants it. And if what it wants is to beat the living sh*t out of me, it feels “wrong” to set a boundary— even if that boundary is just, “I will not beat the sh*t out of myself.” 

Sometimes my brain wants to relapse. I have to set a boundary with it— that we don’t relapse just because we want to. 

Boundaries of all sorts tend to be difficult for trauma survivors— but boundaries with ourselves are often the MOST difficult to stay consistent with. 

Our old programming, our old tapes, WILL kick back when we try to set a boundary. They will NOT like it. 

But we’re not in recovery to stay loyal to our old conditioning. 

We’re not in recovery to stay loyal to our old abusers. 

And that’s who we’re REALLY settling limits with when we set boundaries with our conditioning, isn’t it? 

Yes it is. 

If you’re reading this, you’re probably no stranger to the pressure to pretend everything is “okay.” 

Especially at this time of year, with lots of us either opting in or roped into family commitments, the heat is often on to present to the world as, you know, “fine.” 

After all, nobody wants to be a downer. 

Nobody wants to develop a reputation as “bitter.” 

Nobody wants to be that person who ruins the Christmas party by being glum or complaining. 

So— we get in the habit of presenting to the world not what we really are or what we’re really feeling…but what we think, what we assume, THEY want us to be, THEY want us to fee, THEY want us to express. 

This isn’t to say that we’re always miserable, and always hiding it. 

It IS to say that we get in the habit of not really “being” ourselves— but playacting what “they” want. 

For many of us it’s a form of the “fawn” trauma response— playing along with what we think “they” expect or want, in hopes that in meeting “their” expectations, we might be more or less safe. 

Safe from what? Abandonment. Mockery. Shaming. 

It all feeds into this belief system we develop that we aren’t enough just as we are. 

That there’s something inherently WRONG with us. 

That we can be a lot of things to a lot of people— but we certainly can’t be authentic. 

After all, to be authentic is to risk— to risk being abandoned, mocked, shamed. Rejected. Hurt. 

This isn’t news to a lot of people reading this. A lot of people reading this are VERY familiar with this project of putting up a front all day, every day. 

The project of becoming who we think “they” want and expect. 

The thing is, there’s only so long we can do that before our self-esteem kind of collapses in on itself. 

Self-esteem is built on self-acceptance. 

It’s built on NOT denying, disowning, or rejecting who we really are, what we really feel, what we really need. 

When we build our entire LIVES on NOT being authentically us— our self-esteem suffers. 

We become convinced that our anxiety is right— maybe there really IS something wrong with us. 

We become convinced that we can’t possibly be authentic in ANY context, even our most important and intimate relationships— because what would happen if we WERE authentic, if we DID let our real feelings and experiences and needs show…and “they” didn’t like us? 

It’d be heartbreaking. 

Very often we’re not willing to risk that kind of humiliation or abandonment. 

No shame. Everyone reading this knows EXACTLY what I’m talking about. You’re definitely not alone. 

In recovery, we begin to rediscover— or maybe just discover for the first time— who we really are. 

We start to use our voice— our authentic voice— again…or maybe for the first time. 

We start to face up to our fear of abandonment— realizing that if we let that fear run our life, we are actually abandoning ourselves. 

Think about that. Denying and disowning who we are because we fear abandonment, IS actually abandonment— it’s US abandoning US. 

It’s REAL important we not abandon ourselves. 

We are, after all, the most important relationship in our life. 

We are with ourselves 24/7/365. We are talking to ourselves all day, every day. 

If ANY relationship is worth NOT sacrificing, it’s the relationship with ourselves. 

If you’re not okay, you’re not okay. Even if it is the holiday season. Even if you’re “supposed” to be okay. 

And you know what? That’s okay. Your not-okayness. 

You can make the decision whether or how much of ANY of it you reveal to ANYONE— but it’s real important you BE real with yourself. 

Your experiences, needs, and feelings matter. 

Okay, not okay, and otherwise. 

Anger tends to mess with complex trauma survivors. Of course it does. 

Very often, we’ve had nothing but bad experiences with anger. 

We’ve seen anger suddenly turn “reasonable” people into out of control, violent people. 

We’ve sometimes been punished for daring to express our own anger. 

Many people reading this grew up in families in which emotional regulation wasn’t exactly great. 

That lack of emotional regulation probably went beyond just anger. You might have grown up in an environment in which feeling ANYTHING meant that a situation could quickly spiral out of control. 

When we grew up in families that weren’t great at emotional regulation, it’s very common to end up actually FEARING emotions. 

It’s easy for people to say that “in order to heal, you have to FEEL”— because they don’t know what it’ like to become actually FEARFUL of yours and others’ emotional reactions over the years. 

We might think of feelings as things we can’t control. 

We might think of feelings as things that lead people to do irrational things. 

Some people reading this were actually told that the abuse they were experiencing was the result of “love.” 

They might have been told that the reason their abuser focused on them was because they “loved” them. 

Love doesn’t have anything to do with abuse— but what association is made in our nervous system, we often struggle to see powerful emotions like “love” as anything other than a precursor to confusion or pain. 

Some people reading this were told that they were getting abused specifically because they evoked a specific emotion in an abuser, like anger. 

We were made to feel that we CAUSED someone else’s emotional state— and that person consequently could not manage or control that emotional state, resulting in us or others getting hurt. 

Fast forward to adulthood, and we’re left with an idea of feelings that they are these overwhelming experiences that can be evoked from outside of us— and that rob us of agency, resulting in pain and loss. 

Why WOULDN’T we be afraid of emotions, if that’s what we grew up with. 

The truth is, emotions are there to help us survive. 

Emotions, including (especially!) anger, serve an ADAPTIVE purpose. 

Back when we were cave people, it was the cave people who got ANGRY when their territory or resources were being threatened that was able to successfully fight back. 

Fast forward to now, if we are cut off from our anger— if we are AFRAID of our anger— we are robbed of an emotional resource that gives us access to focus and energy we NEED to defend ourselves. 

The truth is, some things SHOULD make you angry. 

We NEED our anger. We have a RIGHT to our anger. 

Our anger DOESN’T need to be an uncontrollable, overwhelming experience that puts us or others in danger. 

We can break that cycle. 

We can be different from what we saw growing up. 

We can commit to learning emotional regulation— not because our emotions are scary and need to be reined in, but because our emotions are valuable sources of information that we need to listen to. 

If you’re reading this, chances are you’ve been alienated from your emotions, including anger, for long enough. 

It’s time to reassert your right to feel— and your ability to not make feelings your ONLY guide to action. 

We don’t change how we feel and function by talking to ourselves the same way our abusers and bullies talked to us. 

We’re always talking to ourselves, inside our head. 

Sometimes we hear it in complete sentences; sometimes we don’t. 

But we’re always in a dialogue with ourselves about who we are and what things mean. 

And who we think we are and what we think things mean largely determine how we feel and what we do. 

If we grew up being treated like we don’t matter, chances are good we internalized the belief that we don’t matter. 

If we grew up being TOLD we matter, but being TREATED like we don’t matter, we might have internalized the belief that, even though we supposedly “should” matter…we don’t. 

If we grew up being the lightning rod in the house for a parent’s unpredictable anger, we might have internalized the belief that anger is dangerous— and angry people are not to be trusted. Which is a belief that probably comes back around whenever WE have the very normal human experience of getting angry. 

Lots of times we’re not even aware of how we’re taking to ourselves. 

We just view and experience the world the way we view and experience it— not realizing that we create much of our experience of the world by how we talk to ourselves and what we believe. 

Our self-talk and our beliefs become the filter, the prism, through which we experience and interpret the world. 

They are our filter for what we perceive to be our options— and what we can’t imagine would EVER be options for us. 

That’s NOT to say that any pain we experience, we inflict upon ourselves. We are hurt by PLENTY of things outside of our control. 

It IS to say that how we respond to what the world throws at is is largely shaped by how we talk to ourselves and what we believe, especially about the world, other people, and the future. 

Trauma tends to mangle what we believe about ourselves.

Trauma also tends to heavily influence how we talk to ourselves. 

People who are smart and strong get convinced that they are stupid and weak— all because they’ve been conditioned to talk to themselves like their bullies and abusers talked to them once upon a time. 

Survivors become convinced that they have no right to even THINK about themselves, their needs, their perceptions, their discomforts or wants o fears, because they’ve been indoctrinated in the belief that to do so is “selfish.’ 

So much of what we do in trauma recovery is just talk back to how we’ve learned to talk to ourselves.

So much of recovery is chipping away at distorted beliefs about ourselves that were created when we were abused or neglected over the course of years. 

It isn’t fair. Nobody reading this should HAVE to do this work. 

Everybody reading this SHOULD have grown up in an environment and in relationships that were safe and stable. 

No one should HAVE to un-learn destructive ways of talking to themselves. No one should HAVE to recondition untrue beliefs about themselves. 

But that’s what trauma does. 

It’s not our fault— but recovery is our responsibility. 

And we can only recover at the pace we can manage. 

Do not put pressure on yourself and do not compare yourself to anyone else. This isn’t a race or a contest. Recovering “faster” doesn’t make you a better person. 

What we’re doing in trauma recovery is correcting for the damage that was done to you that SHOULDN’T have been done. 

And the only minute you have to manage in your recovery is THIS minute. THIS one, right here. 

One step, one day, one minute at a time. 

There’s nothing wrong with being tired. Of course you’re tired. I’m tired. 

Wrestling with what we wrestle with in recovery is tiring. 

There’s kind of this cultural myth that acknowledging and dealing with emotional or behavioral struggles is somehow “weak” or an “excuse”— but those of us who are in recovery know that it’s EXACTLY the opposite. 

Making recovery from trauma, addiction, depression, or another emotional or behavioral struggle the central project of your life is anything BUT a cop out. 

It’s one of the most courageous— and one of the most stressful— projects possible. 

The “cop out” would be to NOT acknowledge our emotional or behavioral struggles. 

The “cop out” would be to try to IGNORE how those struggles impact our work, our relationships, our ability to create and sustain life worth living. 

I’ve never met anyone who used the fact that they were in trauma or addiction recovery as an “excuse” to NOT live up to their responsibilities. 

I HAVE met PLENTY of people in recovery who struggled with the OPPOSITE problem: they considered EVERYTHING their fault, and EVERYTHING their responsibility. 

Making recovery the cornerstone of our life and decision making is not about avoiding responsibility or making excuses. 

It’s about realistically acknowledging what we’re up against. 

Those of us in recovery don’t get days off. 

We don’t get to decide that today we’re sick of trauma recovery, so we’re just gonna pretend we don’t have to worry about triggers, flashbacks, or abreactions. 

We don’t get to decide that utilizing our coping skills, tools, and philosophies is just too much work, so we’re gonna not do it today, and let the chips fall where they may. 

Those of us in addiction recovery don’t get to decide, you know what, today I’m not gonna bother managing my access or exposure to my substance or behavior of addiction— I’m just gonna go with the flow, see where the day takes me. 

We know all too well what happens when we “go with the flow.” 

I don’t mind admitting that trauma and/or addiction recovery is a MASSIVE pain in the ass. 

I would MUCH rather NOT think about any of it, on any given day. 

I WISH I could trust my nervous system to go on autopilot and allow me to make good, healthy decisions. I WISH I could trust my body and mind to respond to the world and its assorted stressors and triggers like a “normal” person. 

But that wasn’t the hand I was dealt. 

And if you’re reading this, it’s probably not the hand you were dealt, either. 

As I write this, I’m coming off a two week period in which multiple significant stressors came at my face, including a car crash and a change in employment. 

Both situation triggered multiple things for me that are deeply connected to my history of trauma and my vulnerability to addiction. 

One of the thoughts I’ve been struggling with over the last two weeks is that I WISH I could handle these stressors like a “normal” person. 

I WISH that managing these stressors didn’t have to include me checking on my vulnerability to relapse, or my reactivity around relationships. 

But: that’s not the hand I was dealt. 

Life calls on us to be brave. 

The brave thing ISN’T to just “suck it up” and pretend we’re NOT vulnerable. 

The brave thing is to acknowledge our vulnerabilities without pretense or shame. 

There’s nothing wrong with being tired; there’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable; there’s nothing wrong with being hurt. Chances are, if you’re reading this, you, like me, are a combination of all three. 

All we can do is what we can do: manage our vulnerability, manage our risk, manage our emotions and our behavior and our triggers and our resources, one day at a time. 

So let’s do that.