Use Your Damn Skills

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. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We get to feel what we feel. Full stop. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Our feelings are important because we are important. 

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

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

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

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

Think of it as practice for your nervous system. 

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

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

We kind of ALL have special needs. 

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

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

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

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

I WANT to worry about you, at least some. 

I WANT to share your pain. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it just ain’t so. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But recovery, is.