Use Your Damn Skills

Many survivors struggle with how much trauma symptoms and responses complicate activities of normal, everyday living that many people take for granted. 

One thing that trauma very often complicates is grocery shopping. 

Grocery shopping is the kind of thing that we often tell ourselves we “should” be able to do easily. After all, generations of adults have had to grocery shop, right? It’s a very normal activity of adult life. 

Thing is, trauma responses don’t care what we “should” be able to do, or what “normal” is. 

The truth is, grocery shopping can be really stressful for a lot of adults, whether or not they’ve experienced trauma— but it can be particularly complicated for trauma survivors. 

Grocery shopping usually means we’re going into a place, a store, where there are likely to be a lot of other people. Trauma survivors whose symptom picture includes agoraphobia or social anxiety— which are both very common struggles for survivors— can have trouble with this aspect alone of grocery shopping. 

On top of that, grocery shopping very often requires us to make dozens of decisions within a condensed period of time— which is something many survivors, whose symptom picture includes decision anxiety or paralysis, can struggle with significantly. 

Grocery shopping also hits on a trigger many trauma survivors feel particular shame about: financial anxiety and money management. 

Many survivors have a complicated, stressful relationship with money— and grocery shopping provides all sorts of opportunities for that stress to get activated, from spending money in the first place, to decisions about brand name vs. store brand products, to decisions about coupons and discounts.

On top of all THAT, buying food can plug right into a trigger may trauma survivors struggle with every day: decisions about what to eat and planning ahead. 

Many of our trauma symptoms and struggles come out around food. Food, meals, snacks, and eating in general are well known to be stressful for trauma survivors, who often have painful associations around eating, body image, and family meals. 

Take all of these very common triggers for trauma survivors, and add to them the fact that grocery shopping is one of the “never ending tasks,” like laundry and personal hygiene, that many survivors particularly struggle with when we’re experiencing bouts of depression— and you begin to understand why grocery shopping is often way more than a mere “activity of daily living” for survivors. 

There is exactly zero shame in struggling with grocery shopping. Grocery shopping tends to stir up multiple triggers and stressors for trauma survivors that many people who haven’t experienced trauma never even have to think about. 

What can we do to make grocery shopping less fraught for us in trauma recovery? 

I’m a big believer in tag teaming this particular task— having a buddy, either there with you in person or in your earbuds on the phone, with you as you shop. 

If a buddy isn’t available for you, I’m big believer in having a playlist or an audiobook in your ears as you shop— so you have an auditory anchor that you can focus on while you do your shopping. 

I’m a big believer in planning out as much of a shopping trip as possible beforehand, so you’re making as few on-the-spot decisions as possible when you’re actually in the store. To that end, I’m a big believer in shopping lists— ideally a list you add to throughout the week as you discover you need things, so you’re not left scrambling to think of stuff right before you go. 

(I’m a big believer in lists and time management generally as trauma recovery tools— but more on that later.) 

If anti-anxiety medication is part of your trauma recovery program, there is zero shame in taking a touch of it before you go grocery shopping— its very purpose is to help you tolerate anxiety and function while stressed. 

And absolutely do not be ashamed to have to take a break— or even a nap— after you go grocery shopping. Remember, for as “normal” an activity as everyone seems to think grocery shopping “should” be, for trauma survivors it is putting our nervous system through the wringer. There is no reason why, when you get home and put away all your stuff, you shouldn’t take a bit to recover. 

The most important part of managing grocery shopping for trauma survivors is to resist the urge to blame and shame yourself for struggling with it. 

You did not ask for a trauma history; you did not ask for trauma symptoms; and you did not ask for something as supposedly “simple” as grocery shopping to be so complicated. 

We are never gonna blame, shame, or bully our way to grocery shopping, or any other activity of daily living, being simple or easy when we are struggling with trauma responses. 

You know the drill: radical acceptance; radical compassion; breathe, blink, focus. 

Trauma survivors tend to get a lot of pressure to “tell our story” as part of the “healing” process. 

Survivors are very often told that to tell our story is “brave”— and, yes, telling our story can take extraordinary courage. 

We’re often told that we “need” to tell our story in order to help other survivors— and, yes, telling our story can often help other survivors feel not so alone, not so broken, not so weird or gross. 

In some settings, we’re told that we “have” to tell our story in order for a person or institution to be held accountable for their actions— and, yes, it is often difficult, if not impossible, for some people or institutions to be held accountable without the first hand stories of survivors in the mix. 

However, as with almost everything in trauma recovery telling our story can be complicated. It’s almost never as simple as “telling your story is a good, brave, necessary thing to do.” 

The essence of trauma, especially complex trauma, is that we have had our agency— our ability to choose and act— stripped from us. 

We’ve been conditioned to believe that we have little or not autonomy— that our choices simply don’t mater, because we don’t matter. That’s what our trauma conditioning tries to tell us. 

In trauma recovery, it is overwhelmingly important that we repair and restore our sense of agency, autonomy, and choice— and it is overwhelmingly important that our agency, autonomy, and choices are respected by the people we choose to let in to our recovery. 

There is no “have to” about whether, when, where, and to whom you tell your story. 

There are lots of valid reasons why you might choose not to tell your story at a particular time, in a particular place, or to a particular person. 

Those who tell us that we “have to” tell our story are not respecting our agency and autonomy. Because telling our story is a choice— a choice anyone truly invested in our recovery is going to leave up to us and respect. 

Many complex trauma survivors have lived our entire lives bing told where and when it was acceptable to speak. We’ve had hundreds of decisions about whether we were going to speak or not speak made for us. 

Our trauma recovery cannot include others telling us whether and when to speak or not speak— and that includes telling our story. 

It is not trauma informed practice for a therapist, or anyone else, to start out a relationship with a trauma survivor expecting them to tell you their story. 

Some survivors may not be in a place, safety- and stability-wise, where they CAN tell their story. 

Some survivors ma not want to make telling their story, especially publicly, part of their healing. 

Most importantly, however, no part of trauma recovery can or should be imposed ON a survivor. 

Trauma recovery is all about restoring agency and dignity to survivors— and that means extending them the opportunity and support necessary to tell their story if they choose…but respecting their wishes and their timeline when it comes to whether and when to tell their story. 

There is a cultural narrative about the power of breaking silence to heal— and, yes, many survivors can find telling their story a healing experience. 

But many trauma survivors feel pressured to tell their story before they’re ready or in settings in which they’re not truly comfortable— and that is antithetical to sustainable trauma recovery. 

It’s real important, as we recover from trauma, to not get swept up in any narrative that yanks our agency away from us. 

It’s real important, as we recover from trauma, to feel that we have meaningfully regained control of our lives— including our story. 

It’s real important, as we recover from trauma, that we feel we are making choices— real choices, consequential choices, choices that could be made differently if we wanted to make them differently. 

Tell your story if telling your story is what you need to do— but just as importantly, what you WANT to do. 

What you want and need matters. 

This is the bedrock of realistic, sustainable trauma recovery. 

Confrontation, of any kind, can be really hard for trauma survivors. 

There’s no need to deny it. Confrontation can really trigger us. It really triggers me, anyway. 

For a long time, i was very ashamed to admit that. 

After all, boys and men in our culture aren’t supposed to be “triggered” by confrontation. We’re supposed to love it. 

Our myths and legends often revolve around confrontation. Our movies invariably revolve around confrontation— on land, on sea, in space. 

For a very long time I figured the reason I was averse to confrontation was because I was inadequate. 

That’s the story we’re fed, right? If we’re “tough” enough, if we’re “strong” enough, if we’re adequate enough, we don’t fear confrontation— we CONQUER confrontation! Right? 

But there I was. I did not like confrontation. It made me sick to my stomach. It kind of still does. 

So I bought into the narrative that I had been fed— I was inadequate. I mean, I already thought I was inadequate for many other reasons, thanks to my trauma conditioning— what’s one more? 

What I didn’t know then, and what I want you to know now, is that getting queasy about confrontation is something many trauma survivors experience. 

It’s not just because we fear pain or effort. Hell, pain and effort are daily features of most trauma survivors’ lives. 

For many survivors, it’s more that confrontation pushes a specific button: we’re “in trouble.” 

After all, why would we be involved in any confrontation, if we weren’t “in trouble?” 

Confrontation means we might get yelled at. 

Confrontation means we might be mocked or shamed. 

Confrontation means we might get humiliated— maybe in front of an audience. 

All of those are very specific triggers for many complex trauma survivors— and, strangely, for many of us, those experiences might actually be more aversive than getting roughed up in some sort of physical battle. 

Confrontations happen in many ways and forms in everyday life. 

It could be your boss wanting to talk to you. 

It could be a romantic partner leaving the message on your voicemail, “we need to talk.” 

It could even be a social media dustup (which is actually what made me think to write about this tonight). 

Whatever the context of the confrontation, you need to know that you’re not weird, broken, or alone if you struggle with the very idea of it. 

Some trauma survivors can be so triggered by the idea of confrontation that we even avoid having conversations we know we need to have, with people we like and trust. 

That’s not you being “crazy.” That’s your nervous system responding to things that actually happened to you once upon a time. 

It’s also not you being “weak,” “cowardly,” or “dramatic.” Our triggers are our triggers. This anxiety we survivors feel about confrontation isn’t a reflection of your character or courage. 

When we get triggered by the idea or occurrence of confrontation, we need to remember to return to the basics of anxiety management: breathe, blink, focus. Watch your self-talk. Talk yourself through the unhelpful beliefs and thoughts that are kicking your ass. Be there for yourself. Have your own back. 

You know— all that trauma recovery stuff we’re doing on the daily anyway. 

Because this is your trauma recovery— and no anxiety about confrontation is going to derail it. 

When we have abuse, neglect, or other trauma in our history, we’re going to feel lots of things that just aren’t true. 

We might feel worthless. Not true. 

We might feel at fault. Not true. 

We might feel gross. Not true. 

We might feel inadequate. Not true. 

Trauma conditioning enables this thing called “emotional reasoning,” where we assume that if we FEEL something strongly enough, it’s obviously true. 

The problem with that is, trauma conditioning very often lies to us, about us. 

Then it will jack up the emotional intensity of what we’re feeling to obscure and distract from the fact that what it’s told us is a total pile of horsesh*t. 

All that intensity can be confusing, though. After all— why would we so strongly FEEL something to be true, if it wasn’t true? 

For that matter, how could something NOT be true, when every fiber in our nervous system is screaming that it’s OBVIOUSLY true? 

This is just what trauma does. This is why conditioning is conditioning— why they call it “brainwashing” and “programming.” 

Remember: every zealot, every fanatic, that has ever believed something that you consider to be absolutely erroneous, absolutely “crazy,” has had that same sense of certainty in their bones. 

They, too, cannot IMAGINE how something they believe SO STRONGLY, something that FEELS so true, could possibly NOT be true. 

And yet— they’re frequently wrong. Impressively, breathtakingly wrong, even. 

We need to remember that the damage trauma does to us is not just in the shock and pain caused by any one traumatic stressor— it is in the conditioning, the programming, that we endure around and after the traumatic stressor. 

Complex trauma s complex because it doesn’t happen in an instant— complex trauma is a collection of beliefs, reactions, and behaviors that are conditioned in us over time and in relationships. 

What does conditioning do? It skews how we view the world. It shapes what we think are appropriate, or even possible responses. 

Conditioning makes us overemphasize certain things and deemphasize, or even disregard, other things. 

Over time, we become so CONDITIONED to believe certain things— and to believe other things are “impossible”— that it all just FEELS very real. 

Those feelings are not facts. Those feelings are the byproducts of conditioning. 

How do we know if we’re doing bullsh*t trauma-conditioned emotional reasoning? Well, if you’re making global assertions about your value— or, usually, your lack of value— you might be doing bullsh*t trauma-conditioned emotional reasoning. 

If you’re kicking the sh*t out of yourself for nebulous reasons, you might be doing bullsh*t trauma-conditioned emotional reasoning. 

If you’re finding ways things that happened TO you were “actually” your fault, you might be doing bullsh*t trauma-conditioned emotional reasoning. 

Mind you: our feelings matter. It’s not that our feelings themselves are always bullsh*t. We should pay attention to our feelings, value our feelings, use our feelings to ask good questions. 

But feelings are not reliable guides to reality— especially when they’ve been conditioned by traumatic stressors and relationships. 

I know, it’s hard to push back against things that FEEL very real and very overwhelming. 

But sometimes, to realistically recover from trauma, the name of the game is sitting with a feeling— instead of assuming it’s accurate and acting accordingly. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus. 

For many survivors, the hardest trauma recovery tasks revolve around giving ourselves things. 

Giving ourselves permission to feel what we feel. 

Giving ourselves space to feel what we feel. 

Giving ourselves forgiveness for not knowing what we didn’t know, and not being able to do what we couldn’t do at the time. 

Giving ourselves time. Time to heal, time to grow, time to not know, time to rest. 

Why is it so hard to give ourselves things, when we’ve been through trauma? 

Trauma conditioning often convinces us we don’t “deserve” things— and we can’t give ourselves things we don’t “deserve.” 

After all, what did we do to “earn” any of this “recovery” stuff? 

The thing about that is, the very statement reveals it’s flaw: why should we have to “earn” recovery? 

So man of us grew up believing that our worth was based on our performance. 

So many of us grew up believing that we had to “earn” the very oxygen we breathed, the very physical space our body consumed. 

Many of us, right now, feel guilty for existing— because we haven’t “earned” the “right” to exist. 

We judge our lives to be “failures”— therefore we don’t deserve to continue living. 

The truth is, we don’t have to “earn” the right to exist— or the right to recover from trauma. 

If we exist, we have a right to exist. 

If we are human, we have the right to try to feel and function better. 

We have the right to try for a better life. 

You DO “deserve” to exist— you don’t have to “earn” the “right” to the oxygen you breathe or the physical space you take up. 

You do not have to “justify” your existence by creating and living a life that “they” would approve of. 

But all that sounds not-real to us, doesn’t it? 

I can say all that— and in our heads, we can still hear the voices of our bullies and abusers, notably parents and teachers, telling us that that all may SOUND nice…but the reality is, of course we have to work had to not be a “disappointment.” 

So many of us feel like a disappointment, a failure, before our feet even hit the floor in the morning. 

You need to know that that’s not reality. That’s programming. That’s the sum of our trauma conditioning, the attitudes and beliefs and conditioned reflexes I call “Trauma Brain.” 

Trauma Brain does not tell you the truth about who you are and what you deserve. 

Trauma Brain exists to reinforce the messages you got from bullies and abusers once upon a time. 

We can struggle to wrap our head around this, because goddamn, do those messages feel real. It feels very REAL that we’re a “failure.” It feels very REAL that we’ve “wasted our life.” 

Listen to me: struggling is not “failing.” 

Being in pain does not make you a “failure.” 

So you’re at a point where you’re struggling. That has exactly zero bearing on your worthiness. Or your value. Or you “right” to live or recover. 

See through it. 

Look past it. 

Return to the certainty, the absolute certainty, that you and I are as valuable as any human being has ever been. 

You have a right to live. 

You have the right to create a life you like. 

You have the right to not be defined by things that have happened TO you, or things people have said TO you. 

You have the right to recover. 

Yes, you. You reading this. I don’t mean hypothetically or in the abstract. You, as a person, as a survivor, as a human being reading these words right now. 

You have the right to recover. 

And you can. 

And you will. 

I’ve seen the future— and this all works out. 

Self-compassion doesn’t mean minimizing or ignoring the mistakes we’ve made. 

Trust me, you and I aren’t gonna do everything perfectly on this journey. 

We’re going to miscalculate how resilient we are on some days. We’re going to take risks that we would probably be better off not taking. 

Some days we’re going to treat people poorly— and we might not have any particular “excuse” for it. We’re just going to be a jerk some days. 

If you’re like me, you can look back upon your past— including your very recent past— and not be thrilled with certain decisions you’ve made. 

I’ve said over and over again that self-compassion is absolutely essential to trauma recovery, and I mean that— but many people assume I’m only talking about being compassionate to ourselves when whatever has happened isn’t our fault. 

It is true that many trauma survivors struggle to be compassionate toward ourselves when it comes to situations that aren’t our fault— but I’m going to tell you that we ALSO need to be compassionate toward ourselves when something’s gone haywire, and it’s TOTALLY our fault. 

I’ve never really understood the criticism of trauma informed care that it “enables” survivors to “avoid responsibility.” Literally nothing could be further from the truth. 

Realistic, sustainable trauma recovery is all about TAKING responsibility. 

Here’s the thing, though: some people equate “taking responsibility” with “self cruelty.” 

They seem to think that the only way we can “take responsibility” for poor decisions we’ve made is to beat the snot out of ourselves indefinitely. 

Again— nothing could be further from the truth. 

We can make responsibly for he poor decisions we’ve made and the mean moments we’ve had— and also refuse to be cruel or unfair to ourselves. 

I don’t like many of the decisions I’ve made, either in the distant or recent past. Hell, I’m still kicking myself over one of the first decisions I made in 2024. 

Bad decisions and mean moments happen. We can own them. In fact, in trauma recovery, we really NEED to own them, if we’re serious about not wanting them to happen again. 

But owning them doesn’t mean torturing ourselves over them. 

Likewise: forgiving ourselves for our poor decisions and mean moments doesn’t mean “letting ourselves off the hook.” It’s kind of the exact opposite: in order to realistically change our behavior, we need to get past the self-loathing and self-punishment thing. 

So you miscalculated. It happens. 

So you were in a bad mood. It happens. 

So you were feeling like sh*t, and you said things you wish you could take back. It happens. 

So you were focused on the “wrong” thing in the moment. It happens. 

We can acknowledge not-so-great moments of judgment, without kicking ourselves in the stomach every time we think about it. 

Part of what makes complex trauma survivors so vulnerable to self-punishment is, we never quite know what to do with shame. And we tend to experience LOTS of shame. 

To us, a mistake is never “just” a mistake— because shame throws pretty much any negative thought or feeling about ourselves into overdrive. 

We do not need to be ashamed for making a mistake. 

We can experience guilt for our mean moments— Lord knows I feel plenty of that, even as I’m writing this. But we don’t need to let shame chase us down the rabbit hole. 

If we want to take REAL responsibility for our mistakes, we need to stay present with them— instead of letting shame wash over and overwhelm us. 

I know. It’s hard. It’s hard for me, too. Staying present when we want to die of cringe is a tall emotional order. 

But you can do it. 

And so can I. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

Your mileage may vary— but for my money, trauma recovery isn’t about eternal “coping.” 

I remember the first time a therapist said the word “coping” to me, as an adolescent. I hated it. 

I still kind of hate it. Not as much as I did then, and not for the same reasons— but still. 

“Coping,” to me, sounded like just keeping your head above water. The word had this sense of desperation about it. 

I knew I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life desperately trying to keep my head above water. I didn’t want to “just get by.” 

I wanted to live. To thrive. 

So— for a long time I rejected “coping skills.” Didn’t want to learn about them. Didn’t want to hear about them. 

Fast forward to now— I still don’t envision trauma recovery as just desperately keeping our head above water or just barely getting by. 

But I’ve learned to appreciate coping skills for what they are. 

Coping is important. Getting through a long, dark night is necessary if we’re going to build a live we love in the morning. 

If we neglect coping skills— as I did, for so long— we are setting ourselves up to be way more miserable than we have to be, for way longer than we have to be. 

Coping skills, grounding skills (the skillset that helps us stay here when Trauma Brain is trying to snd us on a spontaneous trip to Neptune), containment skills (the skillset of being able to gently, respectfully compartmentalize feelings and memories so we can function in the moment, with the commitment to return to them later)…these are the backbone of early recovery. 

Coping skills are not optional. Not by a long shot. 

That said— I still think there’s more to recovery than “coping.” 

Coping is about keeping us safe and stable while we process our memories and feelings. 

To “process” feelings and memories means to take them out, examine them, their meaning, their impact on us, our relationship with them. It’s how we integrate and eventually resolve trauma— and it requires a different skillset than just “coping” 

I don’t want to “cope” indefinitely. I want to move on. 

There is a subset of people who get turned off of trauma recovery because they think it’s just about enduring memories and feelings that suck. And sure, in trauma recovery there is plenty of endurance training. 

But the only reason we bother with any of that is because we want our life back. 

We want ourselves back. Our personalty, our values, our priorities. 

We do trauma recovery because we want our life to be about things OTHER than trauma OR recovery. 

The myth is that trauma recovery is mostly, or entirely, about coping. That’s not true. Coping just gets us in the door. 

The real work of trauma recovery is in reconditioning our nervous system. 

All survivors of trauma have been subjected to a form of brainwashing. In order to take our lives back, we essentially have to “brainwash” ourselves. 

All that trauma conditioning is gonna stick— until we recondition ourselves. 

We think, feel, and behave the ways we do because we were conditioned. We were susceptible to conditioning because our nervous system is malleable— a phenomenon was call “neural plasticity.” 

Our brains are still malleable. Still plastic. It doesn’t matter how old we are— we can still change how we think, feel, and behave. 

That’s the end goal of trauma recovery. A life that gives us way more ways to feel good, than to feel bad. 

We have to cope if we’re gonna stay alive long enough to do any of this cool trauma processing and reconditioning work. But coping is only the price of admission. 

The real show starts once we’re in. 

In trauma recovery we have to accept that we can’t do certain things, at certain times. 

It’s similar to addiction recovery in that we recovering addicts, just can’t go certain places or do certain things without significant risk of relapse. If you’re an alcoholic, you probably shouldn’t be hanging out in bars, if your goal is to avoid relapse. 

We trauma survivors need to be realistic about the fact that we have certain limitations. 

There are certain triggers that we can’t expose ourselves to— not now, not at this point in our recovery arc. 

That may change. There may come a time when we can realistically endure exposure to certain triggers, and stay grounded, not tumble into flashback or abreaction. 

But if we want our trauma recovery to be realistic and sustainable, we have to be real about the fact that at certain times, certain triggers or tasks are just going to be too much for us. 

This isn’t a matter of “weakness.” This is a matter of what I call “the juice and the squeeze.” 

After I finish running a marathon— 26.2 miles— I can assure you, I can very likely not run an additional 5K just then, let alone another marathon. The juice isn’t worth the squeeze. 

When we’ve been expending lots and lots of focus and energy on our trauma recovery, enduring certain triggers just isn’t going to be worth it. The juice isn’t worth the squeeze. 

The thing is, we trauma survivors do NOT like being told we “can’t” do things— do we? 

We very often make it our business to go out and do things that other people tell us we “can’t” do, for no other reason than to prove that we can, in fact, do it. 

I get it, I’m the same way. And it’s because I’m the same way that I can assure you, that’s a highly efficient way to f*ckin’ kneecap your recovery. 

Believe me when I tell you, I am not telling you to fear, avoid, or flee any situation that makes you uncomfortable. No trauma therapist will tell you we heal by avoiding all our triggers. 

What I am suggesting you do, when confronted with a situation that you can reasonably surmise might be triggering, is ask yourself: “at this point in my trauma recovery, is the juice worth the squeeze?” 

Nobody, after all, is handing out medals for enduring triggering situations. 

“Proving” you can “handle” a highly triggering situation may be gratifying to you— but if it comes at the price of your hard-earned safety and stability, I might suggest that juice of “satisfaction” is DEFINITELY not worth the squeeze.

Trauma survivors are among the most courageous human beings I’ve ever met— and this is why so many of us get into so much trouble with triggering situations. 

We WANT to “conquer” them. 

We don’t WANT to feel like we’re at the mercy of our post traumatic struggles and symptoms— and I’m not telling you you are. 

I’m telling you that in trauma recovery, we have to take the juice and the squeeze seriously. 

I’m telling you that not every risk is worth taking. 

I’m telling you that Trauma Brain will absolutely lie to you about whether and how well you can handle any particular trigger. 

Do I think you have to go through life scared of triggers, ready to run away at a moment’s notice. Not at all. To the contrary, I acknowledge that triggers are going to be part of your everyday life, and part of our everyday existence is managing triggers that we never saw coming. 

I do think, though, we trauma survivors have to be at least as intelligent as the alcoholic who declines to hang out in a bar just to “prove” to himself that he can. 

Trust me: that triggering person or situation will still exist when you’re a little further along in your recovery. 

When you are safer and more stable, you can go charging into as many triggering situations as you want, if that’s what you feel called to do. 

But right here, right now, is the juice worth the squeeze? 

When in doubt, err on the side of getting the hell out of there. 

Intelligent trauma recovery has zero problem walking away when the juice isn’t worth the squeeze. 

You’re not weird, “gross,” or “immature” for wanting hugs or other physical contact. 

And, you’re not particularly weird if you really, really DON’T want physical contact— even from people you actually like, love, and/or trust. 

This is true whether or not your trauma revolves mostly around physical violation OR emotional, verbal, or other less physical kinds of harm. 

The essence of complex trauma is that it head-f*cked us about autonomy and attachment. 

Complex trauma, by definition, was trauma that was functionally inescapable— like our families and other social systems when we’re kids. 

We couldn’t just “opt out” of them. 

When we’re repeatedly exposed to pain we cannot escape, a psychological phenomenon called “learned helplessness” sets in: we lose any kind of faith in our ability to escape or meaningfully control ANY aspect of our situation. 

Also by definition, complex trauma was entwined with our important relationships. 

It wasn’t just about the fact that we were being hurt— WHO did the hurting really mattered, especially to our self-esteem and self-concept. 

Complex trauma tended to maul any kind of boundaries or limits we might have been able to set in a healthier environment. 

Survivors of complex trauma are VERY familiar with essentially ANY kind of privacy or physical safety they EVER had, being ignored. 

Fast forward to being a survivor in recovery: it would be really weird if we DIDN’T have strong feelings about and reactions to being touched. 

For all of this therapy work and self-exploration work and personal growth that we’re asked to do in trauma recovery— all of this objectively exhausting work— sometimes we really feel that all we actually want, all we actually need, is to be hugged. 

More than hugged. Held. 

Sometimes we want that safe, soothing physical touch we didn’t get in childhood. The touch of someone who we could trust to both pay attention to and respect our bodily autonomy and boundaries. 

On the flip side of that, sometimes physical touch triggers us in a very specific way. 

Even when physical touch is meant well, and even when we feel nothing negative about the person potentially touching us, our nervous system very often registers physical intimacy as a potential violation of our safe space. 

In trauma recovery it’s real important we honor what our nervous system is telling us— even if it seems “reactive” or “irrational” in the moment. 

Sometimes we’re going to be shamed— and often we might shame ourselves— for even wanting to be hugged, let alone held. 

We’ll tell ourselves that that’s the kind of thing children want. The kind of thing babies want. 

Yes, that’s true— children and babies DO frequently want to be touched and held by someone safe. 

But it’s also true that it makes perfect sense for a survivor who didn’t get that safe, reliable touch growing up to crave it, think about it…to even “miss” it, even if it’s something they never experienced in the first place. 

It also makes perfect sense for us to respect our nervous system’s insistence that physical touch just isn’t something we can tolerate right now. 

We are not going to shame or bully ourselves into any kind of successful recovery. 

We’re not going to recovery by calling our basic physical attachment needs” “stupid” or “gross” or “childish.” 

We’re not going to strong-arm ourselves into accepting physical touch if it’s just no something our nervous system can tolerate right now. 

As with everything in recovery, the key is self-compassion. 

We literally have to give ourselves, our needs, and our reactions the attention and patience they never got— that we never got— growing up. 

That means no sham. Grace over guilt. Patience with and listening to and caring for ourselves. 

Whether touch is good or bad for you right now— your job is to listen to you. 

Easy does it. 

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.