Trauma recovery is earthy work.

Here’s the thing about affirmations: if they feel fake, they can make us worse. 

That’s a tough truth, but we can’t afford to be unrealistic about it. 

I like affirmations. I think what we repeat to ourselves really matters in how we feel and function. 

But when an affirmation clashes too sharply with what we feel and believe now, our nervous system isn’t going to just accept it. 

No, what our traumatized nervous system is going to do is reject both the message and the messenger. 

Toxic positivity is more than annoying to CPTSD survivors. 

Toxic positivity can be actually triggering to CPTSD survivors. 

It triggers our bullsh*t radar. 

And our bullsh*t radar is finely tuned after years of interpersonal trauma and emotional neglect and mental abuse. 

Some people don’t love the language I use on this page— and I get it. 

They are 100% entitled to not love the language I use in discussing trauma and recovery, up to and including setting boundaries with me or my page because of it. 

Of course I understand why profanity and colloquial language trigger some survivors. No shame, no shade. 

But one of the reasons I use the language and idioms I do on this page is explicitly to avoid toxic positivity bullsh*t. 

There are some people who think ANY discussion of recovery that accompanies the discussion of trauma is “toxic positivity”— but I don’t believe that. 

I believe trauma recovery is both possible and realistically achievable for every survivor (yes, I said “every,” deal with it) reading this— IF we manage our expectations and are deliberate about our focus and language. 

That is to say: if we don’t sugar coat this sh*t. 

I’m actually not all that “profane” a person in everyday life. If anything I probably use relatively less profanity than many people. 

But when it comes to discussing both trauma and recovery, I don’t believe in candy coating. 

 I think it’s super important we avoid fluffy pop psychology tropes and fantasies. 

That’s why I keep coming back, again and again, to some unglamorous truths about recovery, such as: 

Therapy and therapists are not the be all, end all of trauma recovery. 

Most of the important trauma recovery work we’ll ever do, we do alone. 

EVERY effective trauma recovery tool is a version or combination of self talk, mental focus, and physiology— including the most appealingly branded tools, like EMDR. 

And the connections between trauma and addiction are undeniable and MUST be accounted for, in EVERY survivor’s recovery blueprint. 

I guarantee, there are survivors reading this who profoundly disagree with some or all of those points— and they’re likely piping up in the comments right now (as is is their right— God bless!). 

My thoughts on trauma recovery aren’t for everyone. 

But those who do resonate with and benefit from what I write, know that toxic positivity— including bullsh*t affirmations— don’t get us where we need to know. 

I believe in affirmations. 

But I believe in making them realistic and grounded. Gritty, if you will. 

I like my affirmations earthy because I believe trauma recovery is earthy work. 

Your mileage may vary. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

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. 

Trauma recovery is not about “just getting by.”

Yes, I want you getting by every day. Surviving every day. 

But I want you doing more than that. 

Trauma recovery, to me, is about more than just getting by. 

It’s about realistically creating a life we don’t hate waking up to. 

Realistically creating relationships we don’t resent, with people who feel safe and who are interesting to us. 

What I think CPTSD recovery REALLY is all about is developing life skills many humans are just never taught. 

Most humans are never taught the basics of happiness. Of life satisfaction. Of realistic emotional management and goal achievement. 

Now, many humans pick these up— sort of— throughout life…if they’re not busy, you know, just f*cking surviving. 

We were busy just surviving. 

So we’re a little behind the 8 Ball. 

Our life management skills are good for, say, combat, either literal or metaphorical. 

They’re less good for, say, working a job or relating to a romantic partner. 

So— we trauma survivors have to explicitly focus on and learn things about life and self management that many other people take for granted or pick up by osmosis over time. 

There’s no denying that this sucks— but, in my view, there’s also no denying that the skills and tools we trauma survivors need to develop to claw our way out of CPTSD hell, also set us up to create and live purposeful, pleasurable lives that many other people don’t know how to create.

Put another way: what we have to do to stay alive, ultimately equips us to create a life worth staying alive for. 

A life that is more than “just getting by.” 

Why say any of this at all? 

Because I believe it’s super important to realistic trauma recovery to begin with the end in mind. 

I believe it’s important to our focus and motivation to remind ourselves that there’s more to this “recovery” thing than just staying alive. 

That promise of a better life isn’t just a fantasy. 

It follows from he fact that we have to develop certain skills, step by step, in order to do this at all— and those skills will put us ahead of others who didn’t have to learn them step by step to stay alive. 

You can believe that or not. I wouldn’t have believed it at certain points in my recovery. 

But it’s the truth. 

Don’t set the bar at “just staying alive.” 

This isn’t about survival. You’ve already survived. 

This is about realistic joy. 

What a concept. 

Tonight’s emotional flashback.

I got sucked into an emotional flashback tonight. 

I’m packing up my apartment, preparing for a cross country move. And in doing so, I’ve been going through documents in my personal files, shredding ones that are no longer useful to keep. 

I found a bunch of documents related to one of my first jobs as a therapist, even before I was licensed, working in the private practice of my then-mentor. 

In the years since that professional relationship ended, I’ve come to believe that many aspects of it were toxic— to the point that, in retrospect, I wish I’d not chosen to work for her. 

For all she introduced me to in trauma work (she didn’t really “teach” me much, but she did provide opportunities to work with complex trauma and dissociation that few early career psychologists get), she also impeded my professional growth in multiple ways— and I’ve come to believe our dynamic on a personal level was ultimately destructive to my own trauma and addiction recovery.

That said: the relationship ended, I built my own career, and we’ve not spoken in fifteen years. Neither she, nor that early career experience, has much of anything to do with what I do now. 

Anyway, in clearing out my files tonight, I came across multiple documents that triggered not just memories of working for her— but brought my nervous system right back to patterns of feeling and responding exactly like it was 2011. 

I’ve worked hard to develop tools that help me stay out of headspace I associate with growing up— but as it turns out, it took me a minute to realize I was actually in an emotional flashback, not just experiencing memories. 

As I went through my files, I was feeling incompetent. 

I was feeling “in trouble.” 

I was feeling insecure. 

And I wanted, very very much, to salve those feelings by using substances. 

Mind you: there was no “rational” reason for why I was feeling these things. There was nothing in those files that “should” have made me feel incompetent, in trouble, insecure, or at risk of relapse. 

That’s how we know it’s a flashback, not just a memory. 

I wasn’t REMEMBERING feeling those ways. I was feeling them viscerally, here, now. 

Emotional flashbacks are real good at making us forget who we are and where we are in our recovery arc. 

It’s only when we realize what’s going on— as I finally did— that we can actually use our trauma recovery tools to reassert ourselves in the here and now. 

I used the tools we all have, the tools that I believe comprise the basics of recovery— self talk, mental focus, and physiology— to remind myself of who I am and what my life is all about. 

I sought support from people— and a cat— who know me now, who know of my life’s passion and priorities, and who could help me feel like myself again. 

I asked Recovery Supporting Questions (RSQ’s) and reviewed my Recovery Mission Statement to manage the risk of relapse in particular. 

That’s how we do this, gang. 

When we get freaked out, when a trigger hits us, we back up, we name what’s happening, and we don’t try to just “white knuckle” our way through it— we use the tools we’ve developed in working our recovery. 

Flashbacks of any kind are not fun. 

But we don’t have to just let them run their course. 

We can interrupt them, as surely as we can scratch a record or CD so it doesn’t play the same way. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

And bring it back to improving this minute by .01%. 

Your future has f*ck all to do with your past. 

Remember who the f*ck you are. 

CPTSD almost always involves relationship f*ckery.

Betrayal is almost always a part of the CPTSD wound. 

Almost always there is an element of “this person/institution/community should have taken care of me…but didn’t.” 

Many people understand that CPTSD results from trauma that was prolonged and inescapable— but, in addition to those, CPTSD almost always involves relationship f*ckery. 

Betrayal. 

Someone who should have been there…not being there. 

Someone who should have listened…not listening. 

Someone who should have put our needs ahead of theirs…choosing themselves over us. 

Trauma spiked with betrayal hits differently. 

It’s not just painful— it’s disillusioning. 

It makes us question our worth. 

It makes us question the very existence of “love.” 

(I guarantee there are survivors reading this, who are nodding their heads.) 

It’s one thing to be hurt. 

It’s something else to be hurt by someone who was supposed to have your back. 

And it’s something else as well to be hurt by someone who claimed— maybe STILL claims— to “love” you. 

Betrayal takes trauma from painful to mind f*ck. 

That’s why exposure therapy will never be enough to heal CPTSD. 

The damage wasn’t just done by a thing that happened that hurt us, that we need to “get over” being afraid of. 

The damage in CPTSD was done to our beliefs and our sense of self. 

The damage was done to our feeling of emotional and relational safety in the world— not just our sense of physical safety. 

We don’t heal hose wounds by “exposure.” 

We heal those wounds by being there for our “parts” and inner child the way we needed our parents and clergy and others to be there for us once upon a time. 

The thing that makes CPTSD particularly complicated is, we need to be for ourselves what we never saw, what we never experienced. 

We need to nurture a relationship with our own nervous system that is unlike anything we actually experienced: we need to create safety inside our head and heart. 

Tall order. 

And also, doable— if we’re willing to risk extending compassion and patience toward ourselves, one day, one hour, one minute at a time. 

To me, the backbone of realistic CPTSD recovery really is the relationship we reestablish— or maybe establish for the first time— with ourselves. 

Without that relationship, none of the tools or skills will do any good. 

We need to be on our own side in this project. 

That’s what begins healing the betrayal wound almost all of us bear. 

About that “emotional regulation” thing.

Reality check: sustainable trauma recovery does not require us to have our emotions perfectly regulated at all times. 

For all the talk about emotional regulation and dysregulation that gets thrown around in trauma treatment and recovery, you’d think the project is entirely about keeping our sh*t together emotionally. 

But the truth is, people who very much have their sh*t together when it comes to trauma recovery, can easily lose their sh*t at the right (or wrong) trigger. 

NOBODY reading this is perfectly emotionally regulated— and the person writing this is DEFINITELY not perfect when it comes to his emotional regulation. 

Realistically, we’re all going to have ebbs and flows when it comes to our emotional regulation. 

Some survivors are even under the misconception that “emotional regulation” means an utter LACK of emotional experience or expressiveness.

What we’re actually going for when we talk about emotional regulation is, we don’t want whatever we’re feeling to hijack us and drag us away from what matters in our life. 

It’s true that trauma survivors tend to be particularly sensitive overall— but many survivors actually have a whole lot of practice coping with and containing our strong feelings. 

Our problems with emotional regulation are often less about emotions themselves, and more about our attention span and skillset when it comes to functioning THROUGH strong emotions. 

Speaking for myself, I love powerful, passionate feelings. 

I think they’re the “juice” of life. I believe the only reason we do anything in life is to experience certain feelings that we like and value. 

Personally, I don’t WANT to be perfectly or robotically “regulated” emotionally. 

But I also don’t want those “juicy” emotions that I experience to bludgeon me and drag me off course when it comes to my values and goals. 

THAT is what emotional regulation in trauma recovery is actually all about: finding realistic ways to stay present and focused on our projects, no matter what we’re feeling in the moment. 

The way we do that is getting clear about how our patterns of self talk, mental focus, and physiology either do or don’t support us in functioning through strong feelings and reactions. 

There is no “magic bullet” to emotional regulation. EVERY effective emotional regulation philosophy or tool, from Dialectical Behavior Therapy to EFT tapping to Neurolinguistic Programming to mindfulness to contemplative prayer, leverages those thee basic tools: self talk, mental focus, and physiology. 

It takes patience and experimentation to figure out how specifically to use those tools inside your head and body to realistically manage what you’re feeling and stay On Purpose. 

But emotional regulation is a skill we can learn. 

We should have been safe and supported enough to learn it when we were kids— but that ship has sailed. 

No shame; not our fault. 

And also not something we’re going to let ourselves be held prisoner by for one more minute. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

The “frozen” “fawn.”

“You must have liked that relationship on some level, or else why didn’t you leave?” 

CPTSD survivors get versions of this question all the goddamn time. 

Survivors don’t stay in certain painful relationships— personal or professional— because we “like” them. 

We often stay because our fawn and freeze trauma responses have us rooted to the spot. 

Trauma responses are not “choices.” They are reflexive patterns that our nervous system has overrehearsed, because on some level we truly believe they allowed us to survive. 

“Fawn” has us agreeing with or seeming to go along with an abuser. 

“Freeze” has us doing just that— stopping any kind of motion, hoping to be not noticed or left alone. 

When we find ourselves in a painful relationship, the option of “just leave” may not even exist for us on a nervous system level. We may WANT to leave; we may even TRY to leave. 

But if our nervous system and “parts” truly don’t believe leaving is a safe or realistic option, they will simply short circuit that route— without a “decision” having been made by the front our brain at all. 

People like to point out that we could have protected ourselves far more effectively had we removed ourselves from an abusive or painful situation— but that assumes we even registered that option. 

Many survivors reading this have had the experience of “knowing” that we “should” get out of a situation— but literally not being able to execute an exit strategy, due to dissociation, depersonalization, derealization, and good old fashioned brain fog. 

(Those are the tools our nervous system and “parts” often use to keep us from doing things they have decided are too dangerous to follow through on.) 

Understand: acknowledging the “freeze” and “fawn” responses for what they are is not an “excuse.” 

Trauma responses provide EXPLANATIONS— not “excuses.” 

Every survivor reading this is quite aware that, if a pattern of trauma responding is leading us to behaviors that are inconsistent with our goals and values, it’s on us to change it. 

No trauma survivor reading this is looking for an “easy way out,” or an excuse to stay “stuck.” 

The reality is, we can’t realistically change the pattern of staying in personal or professional relationships longer than we should, if we’re unwilling to see and understand the “fawn” and “freeze” responses for what they are. 

There are was to decrease our vulnerability to “freeze” and “fawn”— and they all start with creating realistic safety inside our head and heart.

That means: no shaming or punishing ourselves for being vulnerable. 

No matter how much it frustrates us. No matter how embarrassing it is. 

Start with the premise that what you’re experiencing makes total sense— and actually thank your nervous system and “parts” for doing what they do to keep you safe. 

I know— radical idea, thanking your system for behaviors that are frustrating or counterintuitive. 

But if we want to see radical changes in our life, we need to do radically different things. 

If nothing changes, nothing changes. 

So: start out with validation. 

Help the “frozen” “fawn” within start to feel safe. 

That’s where you’ll start to see some movement. 

Don’t neglect work or finances in your trauma recovery blueprint.

CPTSD or DID can be hell on our ability to make a living and support ourselves. 

And that’s more than an inconvenience. 

Anything that compromises our ability to support ourselves the way CPSTD and DID do threaten our autonomy— and that’s no small thing for complex trauma survivors. 

Feeling dependent can be overwhelmingly triggering for us. 

We know first hand how dangerous it can be to not be able to escape a situation because we’re economically dependent. 

The three major triggers of all complex trauma survivors— feeling controlled, feeling trapped, and feeling “in trouble”— ALL come into play when we feel economically dependent on something or someone. 

Financial insecurity makes walking away from painful situations difficult or impossible— and that in turn triggers us into deeper and deeper levels of resistance or paralysis. 

It’s a vicious, vicious cycle. 

One of the things I get most frustrated with about trauma “treatment” is, it rarely addresses the problems our symptoms and struggles cause at work. 

Trauma “treatment” tends to focus on the struggles we experience with with self harm, suicidal ideation, and relationships— and, of course, those are important struggles that need to be understood and addressed. 

But figuring out to function at work and manage our money is its own super important thing that absolutely NEEDS to be addressed in any realistic trauma recovery blueprint. 

Work and finances have their unique triggers. 

The behaviors working and managing our finances require of us go beyond trauma treatment tropes like self-care and self-love. We’re not going to “care” or “love” ourselves into showing up on time, focusing on our tasks, and keeping track of our account balance. 

When designing your trauma recovery blueprint, get realistic and specific about what triggers and challenges crop up regarding work and managing your money. 

The good news is, the basic tools of trauma recovery— self talk, mental focus, and physiology— are all relevant to managing our symptoms, reactions, and needs around work, finances, and realistic economic independence. 

(That goes beyond trauma recovery, by the way: EVERYONE in history who has mastered their finances has used those tools of self talk, mental focus, and physiology to do so.)

I know, it’s triggering as hell, but we need to roll work and finances into our recovery blueprint. 

Turns out: we don’t suddenly become not-trauma-survivors when we clock in. 

“Do they like me? Do they? DO THEY??”

One of the most frustrating symptoms of CPTSD for many survivors is, we often cannot stop obsessing about what others are thinking about us and whether they approve of us. 

It’s so frustrating because, intellectually, we may understand that what anybody else is thinking about us doesn’t matter. 

But our nervous system didn’t seem to get that memo. 

We still get anxiety spikes when we think someone doesn’t like us. 

That spike can almost become panic if we think someone doesn’t approve of us. 

It may not particularly matter who that person is, either. They could be a complete rando. 


But when we get a whiff of someone not liking us or disapproving of us? It can consume us. 

What’s important to understand about this symptom is, it’s not a “choice.” 

It’s not even necessarily that we value what that other person thinks or feels about us. 

What’s happening is a nervous system reflex associated with the “fawn” trauma response. 

Many CPTSD survivors grew up in situations where we had to closely monitor the moods, reactions, and needs of the adults around us. 

We had to pay attention to the nuances of what those adults thoughts, particularly about us, because we learned from experience that if we DIDN’T pay attention, that could come back on us in painful ways. 

Many survivors reading this grew up having to manage the adults around them in order to stay safe. 

After years of that, our nervous system gets into a groove. It strongly associates safety with monitoring whether others seem to like or dislike, approve or disapprove, of them. 

When we’re kids, we don’t have the luxury of gauging who is and isn’t a threat— because EVERY adult is a threat to a kid if they want to be. 

Fast forward to adulthood: we’re still walking around with a nervous system that prioritizes safety over connection— and that is still vigilantly monitoring the expressions, body language, and energy of everyone they encounter for potential threat cues. 

This symptom goes beyond just anxiety and people pleasing. 

It’s a deeply wired, heavily conditioned, nervous system deep pattern. 

It’s not our fault, it’s not a “choice,” and it’s not “crazy.” 

We CAN rewire that pattern— but not by trying to shame or pressure ourselves to just “quit it.” 

We can remind ourselves all day that it “doesn’t matter” if others like or approve of us— but that will only make us feel stupid for still having this reaction. 

What we actually NEED to do is create safety inside. 

We NEED to find ways to support our “parts” and inner child in feeling safe— even IF others dislike or disapprove of us. 

We do that by developing a relationship with ourselves that we can trust, using the tools of self talk, mental focus, and physiology. 

Our relationship with ourselves develops— or deteriorates— based on how we talk to ourselves, what we choose to focus on, and how we use our body, particularly our breathing. 

Creating safety inside or head and heart isn’t easy, when we grew up with so much UN-safety. NONE of this is easy— and kicking the “fawn” habit can be particularly hard for survivors of abuse and neglect specifically. 

But it can be done. 

You are not the one CPTSD survivor in the history of CPTSD survivors whose brain won’t change. 

I promise. 

CPTSD paralysis.

Something many CPTSD survivors experience is this feeling of paralysis. 

I don’t mean paralysis as in, a limb doesn’t work. Although that kind of thing happens as well. 

Rather, I’m talking about life paralysis. 

We get into this place where it feels difficult or impossible to take action. 

Oh, we might be able to go through the motions and “function” every day. 

But meaningful progress on important life goals grinds to a halt. 

Meaningful intellectual or spiritual development seems to grind to a halt. 

Deepening of our important relationships, both personal and professional, seems to grind to a halt. 

And when we’re asked to explain it, we often just…can’t. 

Why aren’t we moving forward? We don’t know. 

All we know is, we feel stuck. 

And it feels like it would take we-don’t-know-what kind of dynamite to get us moving again. 

Part of what’s often going on when we feel paralyzed like this is a “freeze” trauma response. 

Our nervous system has decided that it’s just safer to stay put, instead of risk moving forward with anything. 

After all, forward is unpredictable, and unpredictable is dangerous, right? 

That’s what our past has taught us, anyway. 

Another part of that “stuck” phenomenon is just sheer exhaustion. 

CPTSD tends to exhaust us in ways that go beyond the physical— CPTSD survivors often feel just bone weary on intellectual, emotional, and spiritual levels as well. 

Yet other thing that’s can be happening in that “paralyzed” state is different “parts” of us can’t get on the same page when it comes to priorities and goals. 

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to function with multiple people pulling you in diametrically opposite directions— but it’s something DID survivors have to cope with every day. 

There isn’t a one stop solution for this feeling of paralysis. It has multiple causes, so it needs multiple levels of support to move past. 

What I can tell you about it is, it’s not your fault. 

It’s not you being “lazy.” 

It’s not something you need to punish yourself for or try to pressure yourself out of. 

As with every trauma based reaction, we meet it with patience and compassion— and we ask it what it’s protecting and what it needs. 

I’ve said it before: realistic CPTSD recovery is entirely about our relationship with ourselves, notably our “parts” and our inner child. 

If we’re feeling paralyzed, they’re feeling paralyzed. 

We’re not going to shame or pressure ourselves, or them, into action. 

Try softer, not harder.