Author: drglenndoyle

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. 

Don’t think about your recovery in terms of where you “should” be. 

That perspective gives you lots of ways to feel bad— and relatively few ways to feel good. 

Think about your recovery in terms of what you need today. 

Think about your recovery in terms of what you need THIS MINUTE. 

Recovery is not an accomplishment. No one’s ever going to give us a medal for it— because, to much of the world, NOT getting our ass kicked by trauma or addiction is what we “should” be doing anyway. 

There are absolutely people out there who think recovery is no big deal, because people “shouldn’t” “let” their lives get derailed by trauma or addiction in the first place. 

As if we “let” our lives get hijacked by trauma or addiction. 

Nobody reading this “let” that happen— at least, not on purpose. 

Everyone reading this was surprised and dismayed when trauma or addiction showed up to ruin their lives and steal their dreams.

Not one person reading this would “choose” that— not for our worst enemy. 

I agree, trauma or addiction “shouldn’t” derail peoples’ lives— because trauma and addiction, in the best of all worlds, “shouldn’t” even exist, shouldn’t even TOUCH people’s lives. 

But they do. And they do. 

You did not choose the hand you were dealt. 

All you can choose is how you play it. 

And we CAN get better at this game of life— but the WAY we get better is through recovery. 

Recovery is not the goal. It is the path. 

It is not an accomplishment. It is the TOOL we use to accomplish what REALLY matters to us in life. 

It took me awhile to figure out that measuring my life in “shoulds” was an AMAZING way to feel absolutely terrible. 

But that impulse is so strong. 

Everywhere we turn people want to measure our lives in “shoulds.” 

Are we doing what we “should?” 

Are we THINKING what we “should?” 

Are we feeling what we “should?” 

(As if we choose our feelings.) 

Resist the temptation of to “should” all over yourself— or your life. 

Don’t think about the huge mountain in front of you. 

The truth is, we have absolutely no idea how big that mountain really is— but we can surely freak ourselves out if we focus on its size. 

You just focus on the step in front of you on the path. 

We’re gong to climb this mountain like any climber climbs any mountain— one step at a time. 

We’re going to pay attention to what each step needs from us in terms of balance, focus, and energy. 

We’re going to only focus on making this step as efficiently and safely as we can. 

No more; no less. 

There are no “shoulds.” Not really. 

Just focus on THIS step. 

You DON’T “have” to accept others’ worldview, opinions, or directions. 

But a lot of us think we do. 

A lot of us have been conditioned to believe that to NOT accept other peoples’ worldview, opinions, or directions, is LITERALLY dangerous. 

The essence of the “fawn” trauma response is, if we don’t go along to get along, if we con’t acquiesce, then we’ll be abandoned— or attacked. 

We don’t come by the fawn response by accident. 

Many of us grew up in environments where our survival— emotional or maybe even physical— really did depend on our willingness to “play along” with somebody. 

We might have grown up in an environment in which disagreement really wasn’t an option. 

Perhaps we grew up in an environment in which disagreement was brandished as evidence of our “bad attitude.” 

Maybe we were shamed for even THINKING about NOT conforming to what somebody wanted. 

Maybe we were threatened for not “playing along.” 

Or, perhaps it wasn’t even that active or specific— maybe we grew up neglected, and got it in our head that our only chance at getting ANY kind of love or attention was to “go along to get along.” 

Maybe we figured that IF ONLY we could get everything JUST RIGHT, we would “earn” approval or acceptance. 

Maybe we made it our goal to be SO GOOD at “going along to get along” that OF COURSE we would be loved and valued. 

Sometimes that strategy may have even worked— for a minute, at least. 

Many people DO like people who agree with them. 

Many people DON’T tolerate it when people in their sphere disagree with them. 

Some people in positions of power DO attack or retaliate when someone in their sphere doesn’t “get with the program.” 

Whatever the origin of your “fawn” trauma response, it didn’t just come out of nowhere. 

You didn’t just think it up one day as a strategy to gain safety or approval. 

if your “go to” trauma response is fawning, chances are you grew up in an environment in which “go along to get along” may have been an actual survival strategy. 

We often judge ourselves when “fawn” is our go to trauma response. 

It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that people pleasing is a “choice” we’re making because we’re “scared.” 

Trauma responses aren’t choices. 

We don’t sit down and calmly decide between fight, flight, freeze, fawn, or flop. 

When we’re triggered, our nervous system makes that decision for us. 

It helps to understand where our “fawning” comes from— to see its origins clearly, with acceptance and compassion. 

If your go to trauma response is “fawning,” you likely grew up very scared or at least somewhat desperate. 

People pleasing can be an exhausting addiction. 

The only way we’re going to recover from it is to understand the purpose it served— both once upon a time, and now— and to meet it with enormous self-compassion. 

Inside of our “fawning” adult self is a kid who is scared they’ll never be safe or loved. 

We need to hold that kid close. 

Trauma recovery is about progress, not perfection. 

Recovery from ANYTHING that threatens to ruin our life— including trauma, addiction, eating disorders, depression— is about progress, not perfection. 

Perfection doesn’t exist, except by accident every now and then. 

Our recovery will NOT be picture perfect— probably ever— and that’s actually the good news. 

I dunno what I would have ever learned from a  “perfect” recovery. 

Recovery is about getting close to some NASTY truths. 

In trauma recovery we get close to truths about what happened to us that MANY of us would REALLY rather not know. 

We often get close to truths about certain people that we’d rather not know. 

We get close to truths about the world that we never, ever wanted to know. 

It’s rough stuff. 

Anyone who says that getting past PTSD is about “willpower” doesn’t understand the hard truths that trauma recovery asks us wrestle with. 

That journey will not be “perfect.” 

Wrapping our head around this sh*t is painful. 

Our nervous system is going to push back. 

We’re going to want to avoid. We’re going to want to dissociate. We’re going to want to numb out. 

We’re going to have days when we’re REALLY into our trauma recovery…and days when the very LAST thing we want to think about is our trauma recovery. 

Our coping skills will DEFINITELY not be perfect— at least partly because we’re not particularly good at them yet. 

In order to get good at coping, we have to cope— a lot. 

We’re going to have to get a lot of practice. 

And practice is not perfect. It’s not SUPPOSED to be perfect. 

We’re going to get scared. 

We’re going to get overwhelmed. 

We’re going to backslide. 

We’re going to use our focus and our motivation. 

Sometimes we’re going to choose priorities OVER our trauma recovery for a minute. 

And that’s all okay. 

Our recovery doesn’t need to be perfect. It needs to keep us alive. 

It needs to keep us functional enough so that we don’t throw away the things we value and love. 

Our recovery needs to support us in getting through THIS minute. 

In trauma recovery, we gotta think progress, not perfection. 

Perfection’s a red herring. It’s a fever dream. It’s doesn’t exist. 

Don’t worry about it. 

Let your trauma recovery be good enough. 

Good enough to get you through. 

Good enough to keep you alive. 

Good enough to take the very next step. 

That’s all we need. 

Trauma really does a number on our self-esteem.

Self-esteem has two components: our confidence that we’re appropriate to life, that we can figure stuff out, that we can meet the challenges of living; and our conviction that we deserve good things to happen to us (or, at the very least, we don’t deserve BAD things to happen to us). 

That is: our self-esteem is our summary judgment of our efficacy and our deservingness. 

Trauma messes with both. 

Trauma tries to tell us we can’t figure stuff out. 

We often look back on what we went through, and we see all the ways we think we could have, should have, avoided it. 

We remember what we went through and we reexperience the feelings of helplessness and being overwhelmed that we experienced at the time. 

On top of that, our post traumatic symptoms themselves often leave us feeling helpless and overwhelmed. 

How are we supposed to believe we are appropriate to life, that we can figure stuff out, when we’re constantly remembering feelings of powerlessness, experiencing feelings of powerlessness, and telling ourselves how we “should” have done things better or differently? 

Then trauma tries to tell us we don’t deserve good things. 

After all, if we deserved good things, the things that happened to us should never have happened, right? 

How can we possibly believe we deserve good things when bad things have happened to us, sometimes over and over and over again? 

Often our brain tries to tell us that we MUST “deserve” bad things— because there’s just no way the universe would let all these bad things happen to a “good” person, right? 

When trauma kicks the crap out of our confidence that we can figure things out and handle life on the one hand; and our conviction that we deserve good and better things on the other hand, it’s no wonder that we often just don’t wan to get out of bed in the morning. 

Who WOULD want to get out of bed? 

Trauma recovery, then, is about reclaiming and rebuilding our self-esteem. 

Recovery is about accepting the fact what happened to us WASN’T our fault— even if our brain tries to tell us it was. 

Recovery is about realizing: the fact that we couldn’t control what was happening to us— and we may struggle to control how our nervous system is responding to it, even now— DOESN’T mean that our actions don’t matter. 

It doesn’t mean our priorities, goals, and desires don’t matter. 

We DO have efficacy in the world— even if once upon a time our ability to stop or change what was happening to us was limited. 

And we DO deserve good things. 

You, right there, right now, deserve to be safe. 

You deserve to have the same opportunities to create a life— the same opportunities at happiness— as any other human being who has ever existed. 

Trauma is going to try to convince you you don’t. 

Trauma is going to try to convince you you can’t change anything and you don’t deserve better things. 

Trauma is going to try to convince you it is a truth-teller. 

It is not. 

Trauma colors and distorts our world. 

It colors and distorters our future. 

And it ABSOLUTELY distorts our self-esteem. 

Trauma recovery is about slowly getting to the point where we don’t listen to it anymore— and when we do hear it, we recognize its propaganda for what it is. 

Remember that a trauma response is a reflex, not a choice. 

It’s as reflexive as pulling your hand away when you touch a hot stove. 

There’s no “choice” involved there— your nervous system calls the shot. 

When you touch a hot stove, pain and fear temporarily override any “choice” about what to do. They literally jerk your hand away for you. 

The same thing happens when a trauma trigger is activated. 

We don’t “choose” to fight, flee, fawn, or flop, any more than we “chose” to leave our hand on the hot stove. 

There’s no shame in experiencing a trauma response, any more than there is shame in jerking your hand away from a hot stove. 

Trauma responses can be confusing and frustrating. 

We don’t LIKE the idea that something can hijack or nervous system as immediately and thoroughly as trauma responses do. 

On some level, we may WANT to believe that our trauma responses ARE “choices”— because if we “chose” them, that means we can “choose” something different, right? 

As usual with trauma, it’s not that simple. 

When our nervous system has been impacted by a traumatic event, we often don’t get a “choice” in how a trigger affects us. 

It’s not exactly like touching a hot stove— it’s more like our nervous system detecting that a hot stove MIGHT be nearby. 

It thinks it sees, or feels, or smells something that it saw, felt, or smelled the LAST time you burned your hand on a stove— so it pulls your hand away preemptively…even if there IS no stove. 

Trying to convince your nervous system that there’s no stove is virtually impossible. 

Our nervous system was not designed to “listen to reason.” It evolved to err on the side of caution and keep us alive. 

So what can we do? Do we just have to let trauma responses take their course and run— maybe even ruin— our lives. 

No. 

We may not have much choice when it comes to what triggers us or how we initially respond— but we CAN get good at wrangling our secondary reactions to trauma triggers and responses. 

Our nervous system will ALWAYS jerk our hand back from a hot stove— but we can get really good at deciding what needs to happen AFTER that involuntary jerk has taken place. 

Do we get so upset that we almost burned ourselves, or did burn ourselves, that we spiral into self-blame and despair? 

Or do we recognize what just happened, and check in with ourselves with realistic self-compassion? 

After all, it’s a scary thing to think or feel you came close to touching a hot stove. 

The “kid” inside your head and heart might be freaked out. They probably need a check in. 

Do we manage our breathing and our focus? 

Do we choose to do something distracting that can return us to a little calmer baseline? 

Do we maybe seek support— tell someone “Oh man, I almost touched a hot stove, or at least I felt I was about to, and it FREAKED me OUT!” 

We don’t have to let our nervous system reflexes be the end of the story. 

Over time, in recovery, we can modify our gut reactions. The hot stove won’t always loom so large in our thoughts. 

But that’s a process that takes time— and until it works, our best bet is to focus on the response to the reaction. 

Think realistic self compassion. 

Think on the ground self care. 

After all, the reason you HAVE trauma responses is because you WERE burned once upon a time. 

We can acknowledge that was real. 

You matter. 

Yes, you. You there reading this. 

I know, I know. It might sounds stupid for me to tell someone I don’t even know that they matter. 

How would I know, after all? 

That’s the thing: I don’t need to know you to tell you that you matter. 

Whether or not you matter isn’t dependent upon my, or anyone else’s considered judgment. 

I don’t need to know what you look like or what you’ve accomplished to tell you you matter. 

I don’t need to take time to think about it. 

You don’t need to prove it to me. 

You matter. 

What does THIS matter? 

Because many people who have experienced trauma get convinced that they don’t matter— or that they only matter conditionally. 

We get convinced that we only matter if we’re entertaining or attractive to someone. 

We get convinced that we only matter if the right people like us. 

We get convinced that, if we can’t convince specific other people that we matter, that maybe we DON’T really matter. 

It’s all BS (Belief Systems). 

Whether you matter is not subject to anyone’s approval. 

It’s not dependent upon the “right” people affirming that you matter. 

You certainly don’t matter just because I’m writing a blog telling you you matter. 

You matter because you are a human being who is alive and reading this. 

You matter because no one can take AWAY your right to dignity and safety. 

Other people, or events out there int he world, can very easily make us feel like we don’t matter. 

Hell, you will sometimes be TOLD, explicitly, that you don’t matter. 

It’s not true. 

You matter. 

No matter what “they” say. 

No matter what “they” did or didn’t do. 

No matter how many social media followers you have; no matter your net worth; no matter how  many consider you a friend. 

You matter irrespective of ANY of that. 

You deserve the chance to recover. 

You deserve the chance to breathe. 

You deserve to take up exactly the space you take up. 

You don’t have to earn it, and you can’t forfeit it. 

You matter— and not just because I say you do. 

I say you do because it’s true. 

You matter. 

Often, our stories save us. 

You know the stories I mean. 

When we grow up abused; or bullied; or neglected; or otherwise in pain…our stories become REAL important to us. 

Sometimes they’re myths. Sometimes they’re fairy tales. 

Sometimes they’re movies. Sometimes they’re TV shows. 

Sometimes they’re even music videos. 

For me, it started with comic books. I was way into Superman. 

Here was a guy who could do ANYTHING he wanted. He could FLY. He could outrun anyone or anything. He was BULLETPROOF. Superman could have RULED THE WORLD if he’d wanted. 

But instead he chose to work a day job— and to use his overwhelming power to help people. 

That was a story that saved me. 

The Greek myths saved me. 

Stories of heroes and survivors, trying to stay alive and fulfill their destinies despite incurring the wrath of gods and nations— those themes spoke to me, as a kid who was trying to navigate a world where every day and every social interaction was…sad. 

Star Wars saved me. 

As a kid of a narcissistic, addicted father, I resonated strongly with Luke Skywalker’s struggle to find the good in his father— and to come to terms with the potentially dark legacy his father had left in his very genes. 

Superman, the Greek myths, Star Wars— they all had things I needed to hear, things I needed to know, woven into their very fabric. 

I find survivors of abuse and neglect often NEED those tales and heroes to keep going. 

We NEED to know that somewhere out there are people who aren’t like the ones we live with or encounter every day. 

We NEED to know that somewhere out there, someone imagined a world that was NOT full of pain or uncertainty every day. 

We NEED to know that heroism is possible. 

We NEED to know that even the most triumphant stories have their dark chapters. 

We NEED to know that somewhere out there are people who are just like us— who are struggling, who get hopeless and tired and frustrated and sad— and who persist anyway. 

We NEED to know that we are not alone…and, somehow the very existence of those stories makes us understand that we’re NOT alone. 

Many survivors reading this know what it is to be strongly attached to, invested in, stories. 

Whether it’s mythology or movies, sitcoms or novels, we return to our stories, again and again, even as adults. 

In my job as the Trauma Program director at a psychiatric hospital, I wear a lanyard around my neck with my ID and my hospital keys— a lanyard emblazoned with Star Wars characters. 

When my pediatric patients see m Star Wars lanyard, their eyes light up. 

They know, instinctively, the power of story. The power of myth. 

The power of hope. 

And that’s what we’re really talking about, isn’t it? 

Our stories remind us of who we are, what we’re all about…and they give us hope. 

They remind us that, as the saying goes, everything is going to be okay in the end. 

And if it’s not okay— it’s not the end of the story. 

It’s hard to wrangle feelings until we put words to them. 

And it’s hard to put words to feelings until we’re willing to feel them. 

I know. Given what we feel sometimes, that can seem like an OVERWHELMING proposition. 

People who cheerfully tell us “healing starts with FEELING!” don’t know what they’re asking. 

Many people reading this have felt overwhelmed by their feelings for years. 

A disproportionate number of people who struggle with trauma-based disorders are highly sensitive people. 

Part of this could be because HSP’s are more vulnerable to trauma and post traumatic reactions in the first place; and part of this might be because trauma itself sensitizes and scrambles our ability to regulate— to turn the volume up or down— on how we feel. 

Either way: trauma survivors OFTEN feel our feelings turned WAY up. 

Trauma survivors very often feel STEAMROLLED by our emotions. 

We feel as if EVERYTHING effects us— a LOT. 

I can personally tell you that, for years, I actually avoided listening to certain pieces of beautiful or meaningful music— music that I loved— because I knew that listening to them would RUIN me for the rest of the day. 

Many survivors decide that the ONLY way we can keep our emotions KIND OF regulated is to cut them off entirely. 

(Dissociation might be thought of as the ultimate expression of this impulse— though we rarely “decide” to cope via dissociation. That “decision” is usually made FOR us by our nervous system.) 

Learning how to manage our feelings can be a long term project. By any measure, it’s a huge, often intimidating project. 

Lots of us have been coping— more or less successfully— for years by stuffing, denying, disowning, and ignoring our feelings. 

We’ve often NOT put words to them, because we don’t even want to KNOW about them. 

Putting words to them— naming them, getting real about what they are and what they’re all about— would make them real…and we DON’T want them to be real. 

Here’s the thing, though: our feelings ARE real. 

And they’re there— whether we want them to be or not, whether we acknowledge them or not. 

Whatever we think about our feelings, they ARE affecting our decisions. 

They’re affecting our very physiology. 

And if we’ve spent years denying  and disowning our feelings, chances are they’re affecting us in ways we don’t choose— and probably don’t like. 

At a certain point— we can’t afford to stay on autopilot when it comes to our feelings anymore. 

No matter how scary it is— we have to face them. 

We have to name them. 

We have to create a relationship with our emotional life that doesn’t run on denial and fear. 

The truth is, our feelings exist to help us survive. They’re our friends. 

Yes, they can seem overwhelming at times. Yes, when we’ve survived trauma, feeling ANYTHING often feels like being hit by a truck. 

But the fist step to reeling our feelings in, is to put words to them. 

To start developing our emotional vocabulary. 

To get to know these forces of nature within us— that have always been with us, since the day we were born. 

We start to understand them. 

We start to feel less afraid of them— little bit by little bit. 

Our emotions DON’T have to remain mysterious— and they DON’T have to rule or ruin our lives or behavioral decisions. 

It all starts with getting curious about and compassionate toward our feelings— which, as it turns out, is also a process of getting curious about and compassionate toward OURSELVES. 

Maybe you don’t have a “bad attitude.” 

Maybe you’ve actually worked VERY hard to have a “good” attitude. 

Maybe you’ve worked hard for years to be what everybody wants. To meet everybody’s expectations and needs. 

Maybe that project— of trying to anticipate and meet everybody’s expectations and needs— has left you burned out. 

Maybe it makes a lot of sense that, right now, you wouldn’t be all that focused or motivated about ANYTHING. 

Maybe your attitude toward and beliefs about life are informed by things that actually happened to you. 

Maybe feeling the way you do right now about the world isn’t a choice. 

Maybe you’d give ANYTHING to be enthused or open. 

Maybe you tried DESPERATELY over the years to be “low maintenance.” 

Maybe you had a belief that the only way you would ever be loved or accepted was to BE “low maintenance.” 

After all, what happens when people are “high maintenance?” 

Others get frustrated with them. Then those others give up on them. They leave. They abandon them. 

Talk about terrifying. 

So maybe you tried to develop the ultimate “good attitude.” 

Maybe you became not just flexible, but VERY flexible. 

Maybe you became not just willing to compromise, but VERY willing to surrender your needs, wants, perceptions, and priorities— because you believed doing so was necessary to others liking you, accepting you…or not attacking or abandoning you. 

Maybe years of all that takes its toll.

Maybe you’re not “negative.” 

Maybe you’re not even all that “angry,” at least not at the people around you every day. 

Maybe you’re just tried. 

Maybe you’re in pain. 

Maybe you’re struggling to scrounge together enough hope and motivation to get out of bed in the morning, let alone make it through the day. 

Maybe you really would give ANYTHING to NOT feel this way every day….but the path from feeling this to feeling anything else seems winding, uncertain— and uphill. 

Maybe feeling the way you do isn’t al that weird. 

Maybe we can have compassion for the part of you that IS so tired— and, sure, kind of cynical at this point. 

Maybe we can see what other people see as “lashing out” or “withdrawing” as what they REALLY are— your attempts to manage feelings that FEEL quite unmanageable. 

Maybe the first step to realistically managing ANY of this is to refuse to blame yourself for what you FEEL. 

Refuse to blame yourself for being tired. 

Refuse to blame yourself for being sore— physically and emotionally. 

And maybe— just maybe— other peoples’ judgments about how “negative” we can be don’t matter all that much. 

Maybe what really counts is what WE can do— to turn our attention to doing the next. Right. Thing. 

Maybe.