No trauma survivor “likes” chaos.

I’ve never met a trauma survivor who “liked” chaos. 

But I’ve met plenty who are USED to chaos. 

Plenty who get anxious when they’re NOT immersed in chaos. 

Plenty who have returned to chaotic situations after initially escaping them— but that’s not about “liking” them. 

Trauma survivors have very often learned to function in chaos. 

Not just function— to handle it effectively. To be “good” at functioning in chaos, whatever that means. 

We’re good in a pinch. Good in a crisis. 

When things calm down, though, we don’t quite know what to do. 

The adrenaline and sympathetic nervous system responses that feel our decisions in crisis are missing. 

Chaotic situations ask trauma survivors to focus on short term survival, which we know how to do— but less chaotic situations ask us to focus on long term plans and goals, which can be unfamiliar, confusing, or off-putting to us. 

Thinking about or planning for the future is often not a priority for trauma survivors who didn’t even expect to live this long— or who were conditioned to believe that positive long term outcomes never happen anyway. 

So we might retreat back into chaos. 

Chaotic relationships. Chaotic living situations. 

Then we might get sh*t for what looks to other people like a “choice”— but what, in reality, is a trauma-driven retreat into our comfort zone. 

Trauma recovery is going to ask us to confront our addiction to (not our “liking of”) chaos. 

It’s going to ask us to realistically develop the skillset of functioning in NON-chaotic environments, which is a novel concept for many of us. 

Recovery is going to ask us to forgive ourselves for supposed “choices” that landed us back in chaos in the past. 

And trauma recovery is going to ask us to accept the fact that, while we survivors may be good in a crisis, we should never have had to develop that skillset. We should have had safety and support growing up— not to be left on our own to MacGuyver our way through. 

Chaos may be all you know. That’s not your fault. 

But you’re not in recovery to handle more chaos. 

You’re in recovery to realistically learn how to tolerate peace. 

CPTSD and DID do not exist for the hell of it.

You need to know you didn’t develop these CPTSD patterns or DID patterns for the hell of it. 

That’s what CPTSD and DID are: patterns. Conditioned patterns of attention, experience, and reflexive behavior. 

CPTSD and DID are NOT “incurable diseases.” 

CPTSD and DID are NOT who you are or your “personality.” 

CPTSD and DID are NOT “choices.” 

They are patterns that have been conditioned in you, likely for years or even decades— meaning you may not even remember a time when those patterns didn’t define your life experience. 

Patterns that have been conditioned, can be unconditioned and reconditioned. 

That doesn’t mean it’s “easy.” That means it’s possible— with consistency and commitment and support and strategy. 

The patterns of thinking, believing, feeling, and behaving that add up to CPTSD and DID developed for reasons— most often, to keep us safe on some level. 

What many people don’t understand is, the overwhelming majority of trauma “symptoms” have their roots in self-protection. 

What WE need to understand is that giving up those “symptoms”— up to and including self-harm and suicidal ideation— is probably going to feel UNSAFE on some level, especially at first. 

We do not develop CPTSD or DID to be “difficult.” 

Nobody reading this “chose” CPTSD or DID. (Given the actual “choice,” literally everyone who struggles with either would absolutely choose differently 10 times out of 10.)

The most painful, frustrating trauma “symptoms” we experience are purposeful. 

And if we’re going to realistically reduce our vulnerability to them, we need to understand and respect what they’re all about. 

We have to give them their due. 

All of this is part of a larger project of steadfastly refusing to hate or reject “parts” of ourselves or our experience. 

For as ashamed or confused as we are by aspects of what we’re experiencing, realistic recovery is going to ask us to deal with our “parts” and our experiences with respect, patience, and openness. 

CPTSD and DID do not exist, either in general or in us, “for no reason.” 

And if we’re going to ask our nervous system to run new, different unfamiliar patterns, instead of the patterns we’ve been running for years, we’d better be prepared to demonstrate that we understand what a significant “ask” that is. 

CPTSD is overwhelming. No need to deny it.

CPTSD can be overwhelming. No need to deny it. No need to minimize it. 

The fact that we can meaningfully recover from CPTSD and create a life worth living doesn’t take away from the fact that trauma absolutely sucks— nor is it to say that it’s our fault if we haven’t yet recovered. 

People so want to to think about CPTSD and the suffering it causes in black and white terms— but it’s just not that simple. 

Many of us feel ashamed for feeling overwhelmed by CPTSD. We blame ourselves for “letting” it get the better of us, especially if we grew up believing we had to be “tough.” 

The problem with that whole mindset is that it’s not just that CPTSD “feels” overwhelming— CPTSD IS overwhelming. Literally. It overwhelms our capacity to cope and function. 

That’s not our fault— but Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, will try to tell us it is. 

Many of us feel ashamed for not having gotten our lives back on track yet, especially if we were raised to believe that feeling or functioning poorly is both our fault and our responsibility. 

The problem with THAT whole mindset is that we can’t “get our lives back on track” until we have the tools and support to do so— and we’re actually READY to do so. 

We’re not ready for trauma recovery until we are. 

And there’s no forcing it if we’re not yet at that point. 

The temptation to deny and disown how overwhelming CPTSD is can be very strong in survivors, especially if we’ve been shamed and punished for struggling in the past. 

After all, we’re not supposed to “let” anyone see our weaknesses, are we? 

We’re not supposed to “let” anyone know we’re struggling or hurting. 

We hear terms like “self compassion” and “validation,” and part of us might assume it’s a trick— a trap to get us to cop to vulnerability, only then to be mocked or taken advantage of. 

No, it’s not easy to admit how overwhelming CPTSD can be, let alone how overwhelmed we feel trying to manage it. 

Recovery is going to ask us to consider the fact that maybe we’re NOT overwhelmed by CPTSD because we’re “weak.” 

Maybe we’re overwhelmed by it because it is overwhelming. 

Maybe feeling overwhelmed is not a character flaw— maybe it’s something that human beings experience when our resources are exhausted, or when we’re pitted against stressors that we were not designed to face. 

Bones get broken when they are subjected to pressure that they were not designed to withstand. Brains are no different. 

When we turn toward recovery, and realize there are realistic things we CAN do to feel and function differently, the temptation is often to blame ourselves for not doing those things earlier, or more consistently, or not having figured out those things on our own. 

The realty is, CPTSD recovery asks us to forgive ourselves— over, and over, and over again. 

Forgive ourselves for what? For not getting into recovery earlier. For not knowing what the hell recovery— or trauma, for that matter— was before we did. 

For not being ready until we were. 

For trying to white knuckle our way through experiences that were never going to be managed in the long term by “white knuckling.” 

Yes, CPTSD can be overwhelming. 

But neither you nor I owe anyone an apology for being overwhelmed. 

Nor do we owe anyone an apology for when or how we discovered recovery. 

We’re here now. 

That, and the next decision we make, is what matters. 

Realistic self-talk in CPTSD recovery.

We’re not going to get anywhere in trauma recovery with superficial, feel good bullsh*t self talk. 

It’s true that trauma survivors are in the position of having to drastically overhaul our self talk to make trauma recovery work— because most of us were conditioned to beat the sh*t out of ourselves in our own head. 

Our old, familiar self talk isn’t going to work if our goal is to feel and function differently. 

But— as we experiment with new self talk, we need to be realistic about what will and won’t work for us. 

Our new self talk is going to feel a little bullsh*tty, at least at first. 

That dose’t mean it IS bullsh*t— it means it’s unfamiliar. No more; no less.

We have LOTS of experience with self talk that minimizes and belittles our feelings and needs— so self talk that actually respects and values our experiences and needs is going to feel unnatural in the first place. 

Trauma Brain is probably going to give you sh*t for trying out self talk that feels “fake.” Expect that. It’s what Trauma Brain does. 

So our new self talk is going to feel awkward enough just by virtue of the fact that it’s new— which makes it particularly important that, as we develop our new self talk “voice,” that we not try to go the route of superficial feel good bullsh*t. 

It’s real important we create a new style of self-talk that acknowledges the sh*t, instead of avoiding or minimizing it. 

It’s real important we create a style of self talk that cannot be confused or conflated with “toxic positivity.” 

It’s real important our new self talk be unflinchingly realistic about what we’re up against— and that it holds us accountable in compassionate, supportive ways. 

One of the biggest mistakes many CPTSD survivors make in trying to craft our new self-talk “voice” is not paying attention to what we do and don’t, will and won’t, find credible to listen to. 

If we try to talk to ourselves in touchy-feely language that tries to pretend the sharp edges of recovery don’t exist, we’re not gong to believe or trust it. 

I will be the first to admit that developing a self talk “voice” that supports us but avoids the toxic negativity and distortion of our old Trauma Bran programming is not easy. It requires that we pay a LOT of attention to what we’re saying to ourselves, and how we’re saying it. 

I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t deeply believe it was a nonnegotiable, front line trauma recovery task. 

We are simply not recovering from CPTSD while continuing to talk to ourselves like our bullies and abusers talked to us. 

And we’re definitely not recovering from CPTSD if the only alternative to that toxic self talk we can manage is happy talk nonsense. 

Be real with your new self talk— AND compassionate, AND patient, AND validating. 

I promise you: there is absolutely no contradiction between realism and self-compassion. None. 

CPTSD and decision making.

Ever make a less than perfect choice? Yes, you have. So have I. 

Humans make less than perfect choices. 

And CPTSD makes us particularly vulnerable to making choices that are not aligned with our values or our goals. 

Why do we make the choices we do? 

We make our choices because of what we understand to be our options in the moment, and the potential consequences of our choices. 

Making “good” choices supposes both that we have an accurate understanding of those options and consequences— and that there are, in fact, “good” choices available to us. 

Trauma f*cks up both of those assumptions. 

CPTSD is really good at poisoning our understanding of our options in the moment. 

CPTSD is good at getting in our head and convincing us we “can’t” or “shouldn’t” do things we actually can do. 

CPTSD is also really good at getting in our head and clouding our perception of the stakes or the consequences of certain choices. 

Put more simply: we do not think straight when CPTSD is in our ear, telling us what’s what. 

That’s not an “excuse;” that’s reality. CPTSD hijacks our attention, our perceptions, and our beliefs— i.e., our primary decision making tools. 

Is it any wonder that, when we’re under the influence of CPTSD, we make decisions that do not align with our values and our goals? 

Most often, when CPTSD is f*cking with us, we make decisions out of fear, despair, and artificially low self-esteem. 

We make decisions we would NOT make if we had a clear understanding of our resources, our worth, and the reality of the situation on the ground. 

Humans are not known for making perfect decisions anyway— but when CPTSD is factored in, it’s a miracle we can make “good enough “ decisions to brush our teeth and put our shoes on correctly. 

Extend yourself grace when it comes to imperfect decisions you’ve made while CPTSD is f*ckng with you. 

Trauma conditioning brainwashes us in the most classic sense: it gets us to believe things that are not true and do things that are not authentic to us. 

Yes, we are accountable for decisions we made before getting into trauma recovery. No, we don’t get a “free pass.” 

But true accountability actually “accounts” for the duress we were under when we made certain choices. 

And true accountability is ultimately changed behavior— which only happens when we’ve met our past imperfections with compassion and realism. 

So you’ve made imperfect decisions in the past. Welcome to the human species. 

So you’re committed to making decisions from here on out that are consistent with your identity, goals, and values. Welcome to trauma recovery. 

Every day in trauma recovery– and every survivor– is a mixed bag.

Every day in trauma recovery, including today, is going to be a mixed bag. 

What that means for you is that if you happen to be having a garbage day today, that’s okay. 

It’s not preferable, we don’t love it— but it’s okay. 

It’s not evidence you’re “failing.” 

It’s not evidence you’re screwed. 

Why does this matter? Because you, like me and every other trauma survivor, are likely super vulnerable to perfectionism. 

We truly believe that if today doesn’t go exactly to plan, we’re in trouble. 

We’ve been CONDITIONED to think in very black and white terms about things like “success” and “failure.” 

Just today I worked with multiple survivors who thought that because their sessions weren’t picture perfect, they “must” have “failed” me, or themselves, or their recovery. 

What BS. (Belief Systems— but also, you know, bullsh*t.)

The truth is, some of the most ultimately productive therapy sessions are wildly unpredictable and imperfect. 

The broader truth is that some of the most productive recovery days are wildly unpredictable and imperfect. 

It’s okay. 

What I want to communicate to every trauma survivor reading these words is, you are working a real world recovery. We want it to be realistic and sustainable— and that means we have to give up these fantasies about having “perfect” recovery days. 

Trauma recovery does not have perfect days because life does not have perfect days. 

If you or I happen to have a “perfect” recovery day in terms of choosing and using our tools and skills, that’s completely accidental, insofar as humans almost NEVER have “perfect” days. 

(No, you are not The Exception.”) 

Acknowledging that nearly 100% of our recovery days will be a mixed bag is not “making excuses” for underperforming. 

It’s acknowledging reality— which we survivors can struggle with, when reality isn’t great. 

When reality isn’t great, our default is often shame and self-blame— which makes perfect sense, insofar as we were often shamed and blamed growing up for…well, a lot of things, very few of which we actually our fault or responsibility. 

Trauma recovery asks us to scramble that pattern of reflexively shaming or blaming ourselves when our day or our choices are imperfect. 

Trauma recovery is a mixed bag. You and I are mixed bags. 

And that’s okay. 

The task in font of us is still the same: baby steps that are congruent with our recovery goals and values. 

Just do the next right thing— and forgive yourself. 

Again ,and again, and again. 

Did you say “the future,” Conan?

CPTSD does a real number on our ability to believe in a future that is anything but sh*tty. 

For that matter, CPTSD does a real number on our ability to think about the future at all. 

Part of is is depression— we just have zero motivation or focus to think about the future. 

Part of is is learned helplessness (which isn’t our fault, despite it being “learned”)— we’ve been conditioned by CPTSD do believe there’s nothing we can do to positively affect the future, so why bother? 

Yet another part of it is the cognitive distortion of “fortune telling”— that is, CPTSD has convinced us that we “know” what all is coming, and it’s all “obviously” sh*tty, so why think about any of it at all? 

Here’s the thing: when we’ve been kneecapped by CPTSD in our ability to think about the future, we’re also not that interested in doing anything right here, right now, to feel or function better. 

That is to say: we feel profoundly stuck. 

I don’t actually need you to believe that the future is going to be awesome. After all, how would I know? I don’t have any knowledge about the future that any other human lacks. 

I’ll tell you what I do know, though: CPTSD lies. 

CPTSD lies about fault and responsibility. 

CPTSD lies about how capable we are. 

And CPTSD lies about what we deserve. 

I don’t know what the future holds— but I do know that CPTSD’s insistence that it’s nothing but sh*t is probably not true, simply because of how full of sh*t CPTSD tends to be. 

Look, I’m not some raging, unrealistic optimist. I don’t believe in toxic positivity. 

But I also don’t believe in making sweeping judgments about what a situation will or won’t be based on the feelings and fears of this moment. 

I believe in planing. 

I believe in consistency and incremental change. 

I believe in trajectory over speed. 

I believe in habits. 

All of which is to say: I believe in creating the future, not waiting for it to happen or dreading it. 

Maybe we can or can’t impact the future— but if we can’t, we’ve lost nothing by choosing to believe we can. 

And if we can actually impact the future? Then approaching it decision by decision, with clarity and certainty about our goals and values, will realistically create a quality of life that CPTSD doesn’t want us to believe exists. 

I’m willing to make that bet. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

CPTSD hijacks our attention & dysregulates our emotions.

I think of CPSTD as a hijacker of attention. 

That’s mostly what CPTSD does. Yank our attention toward things and people that do not deserve it and that do not serve us. 

I think of CPTSD recovery as the process of relearning— or, in many cases, learning in the first place— how to retake effective control of our attention. 

Trauma yanks our attention toward memories, thoughts, and beliefs that make us feel like garbage. 

Trauma evokes self-talk that scares and demoralizes us. 

Trauma coerces our attention toward emotional regulation strategies, like substance use and self-harm, that create more problems than they solve. 

Effective trauma recovery is almost entirely about effective attention management. 

Being able to shift our attention away from things that scare and sabotage us, and toward things that support us in dealing with reality. 

Every effective trauma recovery strategy supports us in retaking control of our attention. 

One of the things that makes CPTSD recovery so hard in the fist place is the fact that most of us were not taught how to direct our attention growing up. 

Many of us assume we’re at the mercy of our attention and our emotions— that the only way we can get “over” trauma is by something magical happening, such that our attention is no long drawn toward things that make us feel like sh*t. 

Unfortunately, there is no magic in trauma recovery. 

What there is, is realistic attention management and emotional regulation— which almost always reduce down to making choices about our self-talk, mental focus, and physiology, especially our breathing. 

I wish it was more profound than that— but it’s not. 

Which is not to say any of this is easy. 

Effectively working our trauma recovery means wrangling our attention— which can be a massive pain in the ass. 

Most of us would rather not invest the effort in wrangling our attention or regulating our emotions that trauma recovery requires— and, to be clear, none of this is f*cking fair. 

Neither you nor I should have to even think about any of this sh*t. 

But— we don’t have the option of not having lived the life we lived. We don’t have the option of not having to wake up every morning and staring CPTSD in the face. 

So: wringing our attention and regulating our emotions it is. 

Step by step, day by day. 

You can do this. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

So what do we actually DO with these “feelings,” anyway?

So what do we do with all these feelings we’re experiencing with all this intensity? 

CPTSD does a real number on our emotional regulation— meaning if we feel anything at all, we feel it with, you know, the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. 

We get to the point where we’d really rather not feel anything. 

We get to hate and fear our emotions. After all, they don’t seem to do much of anything but f*ck us up. 

Then we get into trauma recovery, and we’re told that it’s not a solution to deny or disown or dissociate our emotions anymore— but that begs the question: what the hell are we supposed to DO with these “feeling” things, huh? 

Often, the very best thing we can do with those “feeling” things is to hang out with them. 

Sit with them. 

Let them exist. 

Most importantly: do not deny them, disown them, or demand that they not exist. 

CPTSD survivors have had our feelings invalidated, attacked, ignored, and disrespected for most of our lives. 

The key to CPTSD recovery is scrambling all those old patterns. 

That means we can’t treat our feelings like the people in our lives treated them— or us. 

Even if we don’t yet quite know how to regulate or understand our emotions, we can’t be in the business of abusing them. 

Abusing our emotions is abusing ourselves. 

Neglecting our emotions is neglecting ourselves. 

Sit with them. 

Be with them. 

Treat your emotions like the “parts” of yourself that they are— maybe difficult to understand, maybe difficult to contain, maybe difficult to cope with…but important. Valuable. 

In my experience, if we sit with our feelings long enough, without overreacting, without demanding anything of them, without insisting they not exist or go away, without judging them— our feelings will tell us what they’re all about. 

They’ll tell us what they need from us. 

But it all starts with the willingness to sit with them. To hang out with them. 

To validate them. 

What a concept, huh? 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

You get to decide.

You have the right to determine what your life looks and feels like. 

This is a revolutionary concept to many survivors of trauma. 

Many of us have been conditioned to believe that we don’t get any say in the shape or feel of our life. 

Many of us have only ever felt NOT in control of our life. 

Many of us have lost any kind of faith in our ability to affect the direction of our life. 

It’s a thing called “learned helplessness”— which doesn’t mean it’s our fault, even though it’s “learned.” What it means is that we’ve had the experience, again and again, of trying to affect or change things in our life, and we haven’t been able to. 

So of course we lose confidence in our ability to change things. 

That’s not our fault. 

Trauma recovery is going to ask us to believe in our ability to actually shape and choose our experience of life— and, no doubt, that can feel like a risk. 

Letting ourselves experience hope absolutely feels risky. 

It’s okay to be anxious about feeling hope. 

It’s okay to be reluctant to let ourselves feel hope. 

But we can be open to it. 

As you and I work our trauma recovery, we slowly start to believe in our ability to realistically, meaningfully change things in our life— bit by bit, choice by choice. Not all at once. 

Don’t think of this “recovery” thing as requiring huge leaps of faith or belief. 

Just focus on the .01%. 

Just focus on making one teeny, tiny choice today that can help your life feel better, more comfortable, more authentic, more livable. 

How your life looks and feels is truly up to you. 

It won’t transform overnight, and that’s okay. That’s better, actually. 

We want change to stick. 

We want your new life to be realistic and sustainable. 

You get to choose what it looks like. 

You get to choose what it feels like. 

You get to choose who does and doesn’t have access to your new life. 

You get to choose what your new life is all about. 

You have the right and you have the ability. 

Don’t let anyone tell you different.