drglenndoyle

Trauma is about “control.” Recovery is about influence.

So much of trauma recovery is about control. 

Turns out: we do not “control” sh*t.

But Trauma Brain is going to tell us we “have” to “control”…like, everything, basically. 

It’ll tell us we “have” to “control” our feelings. 

It’ll tell us we “have” to “control” our environment. 

It’ll tell us we “have” to “control” other people’s perceptions of us. 

Turns out: there is no “controlling” any of that. 

And we, being smart, eventually figure that out— and it freaks us out. 

After all: if you’re reading this, chances are very good you’ve been hurt by uncontrollable situations and/or uncontrolled people. 

It makes sense we’d freak out when we get a taste of truly how powerless we are over certain things. 

It’s that sense of powerless that can drive depression, overwhelming anxiety— and, not infrequently, the urge to hurt or even kill ourslves. 

Lack of control is no small thing to trauma survivors. 

And, lack of control is something we have to wrap our head around if we’re going to meaningfully recover from trauma. 

Turns out: because we can’t “control” something, doesn’t mean we can’t influence it. 

I’m not a fan of trying to “control” our feelings. That’s a recipe for frustration and shame. 

But I do believe in doing what we can to influence our feelings. 

Our self talk does not control our feelings— but you’d better believe how we talk to ourselves influences how we feel. 

Our mental focus does not control our feelings (and we don’t even “control” 100% of our mental focus)— but what we choose to mental turn toward or turn away from absolutely influences our feelings. 

How we breathe and use our body does not control our feelings— but it absolutely influences what feeling states are relatively easier or harder to access. 

The same is true for how other people perceive us. The same is true for our environment. We cannot directly “control” any of it— but we can influence them. 

Some days that influence is going to be a little, some days it’ll be a little more— but, even though influence is not “control,” it’s also not nothing. 

Our trauma conditioning is going to try, hard to get us up in our head about control. It’s going to tell us that if we can’t “control” something, then we’re completely powerless, completely at its mercy, and there’s no point trying to change it. 

That’s a thinking distortion we psychologist types call “black and white thinking”— and it’s one of Trauma Brain’s favorite, most effective tools to f*ck us up. 

Realistic trauma recovery acknowledges that “control” is an illusion and a trap. And that preoccupation with “control” will keep us sick. 

One of the first, most important, philosophical tools you can use to move your trauma recovery forward is replacing “control” in your vocabulary with “influence.” 

It’s a baby step and it may seem like semantics— but try it out. 

drglenndoyle

Start with internal safety.

Yes: it would be better if everybody reading this was physically, externally safe. 

But they’re not. 

And for a subset of the people reading this, perfect external physical safety is not possible right now. 

That’s not the way it should be. Everybody should have realistic safety available to them. We should create a world where realistic physical safety is available to everyone. 

But, since that is not the world we live in, we trauma survivors have to adapt. 

It’s not fair, it’s not right, and we should aspire to create and live in a different world—  but in this current version of reality, we have to adapt. 

One of the most important adaptations we can make is focusing on internal safety. 

We may not be able to stop or control attacks that come from the outside. 

But we can decrease and protect against attacks we launch against ourselves. 

We can commit to using our self talk, mental focus, and physiology to soothe and support ourselves, instead of tearing ourselves down. 

Every survivor reading this needs to know that Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, is out to make us miserable. That’s its job, its mission statement. 

And Trauma Brain very often tries to get us to collude with it— to repeat and amplify its attacks on us. 

That’s what we have to stop. 

That’s what we have to recognize and say “no” to. 

Only we can create internal safety. Only we can choose to use our self talk in constructive, affirming, realistic ways— not the cruel, distorted ways Trauma Brain tries to get us to use. 

I’ve said it before: the quality of our trauma recovery is the quality of our relationship with ourselves. 

If we relate to ourselves primarily as a prosecutor or a punisher, we’re committing to basically doing our bullies’ and abusers’ dirty work for them— in our own goddamn head, in our own voice. 

F*ck that, you know? 

I’m not talking about sophisticated trauma processing theory here. 

I’m talking about basic verbal and emotional first aid and self care. 

For all the people asking me again and again about the “how” of trauma recovery: it starts right here. By shifting how we talk to ourselves, leverage our mental focus, and use our physiology. 

Do we talk to ourselves, focus, and behave toward ourselves in ways our bullies and abusers would prefer? 

Or do we talk to ourselves, focus, and behave toward ourselves— today, right here, right now— in was that communicate self-love (even if we’re not necessarily FEELING loving toward ourselves just now)? 

I want everybody reading this to be safe in the outside world. I hope to contribute to a world in which external physical safety is is a realty for everyone. 

But, barring that: start with internal safety. Start with self talk, mental focus, and physiology. 

That is to say: start basic. 

I love basic. Basic is friend. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Not every “helper” will be able to help.

There are people and institutions that will say they want to be part of our trauma recovery— but who just aren’t up to it. 

They may want to be. They may even try to be. But they just aren’t. 

The fact of the matter is, our culture is not great at compassion. 

It’s not great at empathy. 

It’s not great at acknowledging the realistic limitations of personal responsibility. 

To the contrary: our culture really, really loves this fantasy of every human being wholly responsible for how they feel and function— no exceptions, no excuses. 

I say it’s a fantasy because there are few, if any, situations in the real world that actually work like that. 

As a rule, when someone tries to frame something to you in stark black and white terms like that, they’re missing something— intentionally or unintentionally. 

In any case, victims are not responsible for our abuse or neglect, and trauma responses are not “choices.” 

Survivors do have responsibility in how we choose to manage our self talk, mental focus, and physiology to increase our odds of making it through the day safe and stable — but that’s not the same as saying “we are responsible for every aspect of how we feel and function.” 

But our culture loves that fantasy. 

It makes people feel better, to think that they can be responsible for “everything” they think and feel. 

After all, that means if they ever think or feel something they don’t like, they can just, you know, bootstrap their way on out of it. 

Great fantasy, right? 

Well…it’s great right up until you run up agains a feeling, memory, or habit that you didn’t choose and you can’t readily change. 

You know, like CPTSD survivors experience every goddamn day. 

But the world out there doesn’t like the existence of CPTSD or trauma survivors f*cking up their little fantasy world, so they often choose to overlook the actual lived experience of survivors. 

Which brings us back to, many people and institutions that buy into the cultural trope of “complete responsibility” and “rejecting victim mindset” will just not be serious supports in our trauma recovery— even if they want or try to be. 

Who WILL be realistically supportive of our recovery? 

People and institutions that can acknowledge our feelings and needs, without talking over us. 

People and institutions that can accept not every survivors’ experience is identical or fits into a preconceived mold of what “trauma” is or is’t. 

People and institutions that do not get defensive when confronted with their own potential role in our pain. 

Mind you: people and institutions that actually fit those criteria are pretty few and far between. Which is why so many attempts to “support” survivors of complex trauma fall so impressively flat. 

In fairness: many who would otherwise wish to support us are working against cultural narrative that they just have no idea how to take on. 

But what we need to know is, not everyone who says they want to help, will be a realistic helper. It sucks, but it’s the truth. 

It doesn’t mean we don’t deserve help. 

It doesn’t mean our pain or our needs are not real or valid. 

It does mean we are more alone out here than we might otherwise be— but honestly, most of us CPTSD survivors have felt and functioned like loners from a very early age anyway. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

And lock in on the next recovery supporting micro choice. 

drglenndoyle

When trauma doesn’t look like trauma.

Most people who don’t struggle with trauma fail to understand: the damage CPTSD does to us is not confined to thoughts or feelings or memories of the trauma. 

One of the reasons why complex trauma is, well, complex, is because that CPTSD wound can masquerade as struggles that look wholly unrelated to trauma. 

For example: CPTSD f*cks with our ability to manage time. I consider chronic procrastination a not-unreliable indicator that trauma might be lurking.

It f*cks with our ability to manage money. Because of course it does— money being deeply entwined with pressure and shame and anxiety in our nervous system. 

It f*cks with our ability to perform sexually. Because, again: pressure, shame, anxiety, and add to that the eating and body image issues many trauma survivors experience. 

Oh, speaking of: it f*cks with our ability and inclination to eat. 

Notice how one of those necessarily hooks directly on to trauma feelings and memories. 

In fact, many trauma survivors who don’t have clear, or any, memories of their trauma, do struggle with these, often along with the emotional dysregulation and sh*tty self esteem that most CPTSD survivors know all too well. 

The problem out there in the world is, if you struggle with these things that don’t overtly or “obviously” connect to your trauma— that is, they aren’t straightforward trauma memories or feelings— few people will acknowledge you as a survivor in need of support. 

What they are likely to call you is a loser who needs to get their life together. 

Which is sh*tty enough— but that harsh, unfair judgment tends to dovetail perfectly with the damaged self esteem experienced by many survivors…meaning it reinforces our bad habit of blaming and kicking the sh*t out of ourselves. 

It’s not that “every problem encountered by humans is probably a trauma symptom.” 

It’s that trauma symptoms can cosplay as many unrelated problems that our culture tends to judge and punish. 

I don’t believe in “blaming” struggles and symptoms on trauma. 

I believe in realistically considering the role trauma may play in struggles and symptoms, so survivors can formulate realistic strategies and develop realistic tools to manage and resolve them. 

Ever try to resolve a procrastination issue that is actually trauma based, through the lens of “you just have to get more organized?” 

I have. It doesn’t work. 

The other thing I want people to understand about this subject is that you struggling with life stuff, “adulting,” isn’t you being a “loser”— and you’re definitely not alone in those struggles. 

You deserve compassion and support for managing and resolving these things as much as you do for resolving painful memories and feelings overtly related to your trauma. 

Trauma recovery isn’t just about resolving straightforward trauma symptoms. 

It’s about getting your whole life realistically on track— whatever that looks like and whatever that takes. 

drglenndoyle

Validation: the least fluffy, non-bullsh*t concept in trauma recovery.

Validating our pain can be a really tough ask for CPTSD survivors. 

Pain sucks. Why on earth would we want to “validate” it? 

Many of us were actually taught to do the exact opposite: to INVALIDATE our pain at every opportunity. 

To tell ourselves our pain doesn’t count. 

To tell ourselves our pain is “crazy.” 

To call ourselves “weak,” among other things, for even experiencing pain. 

Over and over again, we were taught to communicate to ourselves that our pain should simply not exist— and maybe WE simply should not exist if we’re experiencing pain. 

We’ve often been invalidating our own pain for so long, invalidation as our default setting can feel very “right.” Very “natural.” 

Why would we want to challenge something that feels right or natural? 

Because the truth is, our pain IS valid. 

Our pain is NOT “crazy.” 

Our pain and symptoms actually make all kinds of sense, given what we’ve been through (and that’s true whether we happen to completely or coherently remember all we’ve been through or not). 

If we consistently communicate to ourselves that we “shouldn’t” be feeling or responding the way we are, that we are “crazy” or “weak” for doing so, not only are we lying to ourselves— but we’re doing our abusers’ and bullies’ dirty work for them, in our own head. 

The truth is that strong, smart people experience pain. 

There is nothing about the pain you or I are experiencing that actually means we’re “crazy” or “weak.” 

Our pain means we’re injured. Not “weak” or “crazy.” 

Why does how we talk to ourselves about or own pain matter? 

Because we are not particularly motivated to actually heal pain that we decide is “crazy” or otherwise invalid. 

Telling ourselves our pain doesn’t make sense and shouldn’t exist just leads us to try to “stuff” it, or ignore it, or maybe try to pressure or punish ourselves into not feeling it. 

I probably don’t have to tell you how well that works. 

Leading off with validation, though— telling ourselves ourselves the truth, that our pain represents an injury— gets us feeling and responding to our pain differently. 

Injuries and wounds very often heal, with the appropriate care and support. 

Validating our pain as an injury or a wound, rather than dismissing it as “crazy” or evidence of “weakness,” opens us up to realistic healing— and keeps us from needlessly, pointlessly beating ourselves up over being hurt in the first place. 

Validation is not some warm and fuzzy, pop psychology bullsh*t. 

It is a practical, essential tool in sustainable trauma recovery. 

Your pain is valid and you are valid. 

No matter how familiar or pervasive that “you suck” programming feels as you read this. 

drglenndoyle

We can’t stop people from judging us. But…

Rough truth: we will never be able to stop people from judging us. 

Human beings LOVE to judge other human beings. 

We love it so much we create reality TV shows that revolve around increasingly creative ways to judge contestants. 

Many of our conversations revolve around judgment: how good or bad we judge our pops stars, our athletes, or our internet psychology influencers to be. 

Trauma survivors are particularly sensitive to being judged. 

CPTSD survivors in particular tend to come from backgrounds where we were harshly judged in a million and one toxic ways, big and small. 

Add to that the fact that we CPTSD survivors are absolute champions and judging the sh*t out of ourselves for BEING CPTSD survivors. 

We judge our symptoms, we judge our feelings, we judge how we’re functioning. 

For many of us, harsh judgment isn’t even like a second language— it’s our native tongue. 

It’s true that we’ll never live in a culture that doesn’t love to judge, and it’s true that we’ll never be able to escape others’ judgment. 

It’s also true that others’ judgments about us will often be uninformed, unfair, and unkind.

Welcome to that category of stuff the Serenity Prayer identifies as “things we cannot change.” 

What can we do? 

We can work on that “judging the sh*t out of ourselves’ thing. 

Mind you: we judge the sh*t out of ourselves because we’ve been taught and conditioned to judge the sh*t out of ourselves. Getting OUT of that habit isn’t easy, or a one moment or one time decision. 

It takes work and time and patience and persistence to get INTO the habit of meeting our pain and past with compassion. 

Luckily, you and I and every trauma survivor reading this are hella skilled at doing things that are hard. 

Just notice when it’s happening. 

Notice when it’s happening, push pause, and leverage the tool of self-talk to affirm to yourself, “Naw. That’s the old thing. I’m going to do the new thing. The patience and acceptance and self-compassion thing.” 

Mind you: your system isn’t going to love this. Trauma Brain might literally laugh at you. 

Which is why we manage our expectations, why we don’t expect miracles, and why we remind ourselves we’re going to have to do this again and again (and again) to get into the self-kindness habit. 

Don’t demand or expect perfection. Just do your best. 

People are going to judge us. 

We don’t have to play along in our own head.