drglenndoyle

Slow down. You’re doin’ fine.

I want your CPTSD recovery to be realistic and sustainable. 

Not dramatic. Not cinematic. 

And not stupid fast. 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want any survivor to suffer for a second longer than they have to. 

But I have seen trauma recovery go up in smoke because survivors pressured themselves to do it fast. 

Part of that is an artifact of how many of us were raised. 

Many of us were conditioned to believe that fast is good and slow is bad. That if we’re “good” at something, we can do it fast, and ideally more or less perfectly the first time. 

Many trauma survivors (and many humans!) very much HATE feeling like we’re not good at a thing we’re trying to do. 

We feel embarrassed. We feel humiliated. 

We feel like we want to quit this thing we’re trying, because we believe we’re “failing” at it— and we want to not try at it anymore, because who needs to feel like a “failure,” am I right? 

The truth about trauma recovery is, we tend to be better at it the slower we take it. 

And the real truth about trauma recovery that many survivors don’t want to hear is, we only ever get REALLY good at it by embracing the fact that we are, every day, beginners at it. 

That might sound weird. Isn’t the goal of this whole thing to achieve mastery? 

You bet it is— but we only ever achieve anything approaching mastery at trauma recovery by approaching it every day as a beginner. 

Whenever a survivor starts making noises about how “good” they are at trauma recovery, that sends up a flag for me— a flag that there’s something off about their recovery. 

Trauma recovery is too delicately balanced for us to get a big head about any of it. 

True masters, of recovery or anything else, approach EVERYTHING as a learning opportunity. 

I approach every day in my own trauma and addiction recovery as a student. A beginner, who has things to learn from this day. 

Not only does that take off some of the pressure of having to “perform” recovery, it reminds me that I am never, ever, so strong or so skilled that I have nothing to learn from this day. 

Part of being an eternal beginner, an eternal student, is going slow. 

After all, if we go too fast, we can’t really learn things— we’re too busy keeping up and plowing ahead. 

Mind you: I’m a big believer in self-improvement and goal setting. 

Yes, I want to improve constantly. A core principle of my life is CANI— Constant And Never-ending Improvement. 

But to realistically achieve CANI, I have to slow down. 

To really look and really see. 

To really take in what this day in recovery has to teach me. 

To really internalize and reinforce the skills, tools, and philosophies that will keep me safe and stable today. 

Wanna go fast in trauma recovery? Me too. 

So go slow. 

Slow is steady. 

Steady is fast.

And beginner mind is mastery. 

drglenndoyle

“Control” is a bogus concept.

Trauma survivors very often feel “out of control.” 

We know we’re not in control of many of the events of our lives. The events of our lives have demonstrated that to us, again and again. 

But also we very often feel like we have next to zero control over our reactions and feelings. 

It’s true that having endured certain things in our life mean we are particularly vulnerable to overwhelming feelings and behavioral reflexes that are often confusing or even self destructive. 

But thinking in terms of “controlling” those “problems” is only going to make the situation worse. 

“Control” is kind of a bogus concept. 

We don’t, actually, “control” our feelings, even under the best or circumstances. 

We don’t even “control” our behavioral reflexes, even under the best or circumstances. 

If someone important to us is cruel or dismissive toward us, we’re going to feel bad. There’s no “controlling” that.

If we touch a hot stove, we’re going to recoil— and thereafter, we’ll probably recoil from anything that our nervous system suspects MIGHT be a “hot stove.” There’s no “controlling” that. 

CPTSD survivors tend to get way up in our had about all the things we can’t “control”— which, it turns out, is a hell of a lot. Almost everything, in fact. 

Sustainable trauma recovery asks us to surrender our focus on “control”— and instead shift to developing realistic INFLUENCE over what we can. 

The “Serenity Prayer” in the Twelve Step recovery tradition frames it in terms of having the “serenity” to accept the things we can’t change, the “courage” to change the things we can— and the “wisdom” to know the difference. 

There is SO MUCH we can’t control out there, we will drive ourselves absolutely crazy if we persevere on it. 

Trying desperately to have “control” over things we cannot control is an absolute recipe for depression and burnout. And nobody reading this needs to set themselves up for MORE depression and burnout than they’ve already experienced. 

I recommend making the shift in your self talk from a focus on “control,” to a focus on realistic INFLUENCE. 

Don’t ask, “how can I CONTROL my mood;” ask “how can I INFLUENCE my mood 1% today?” 

Instead of asking “how can I CONTROL my trauma responses,” ask, “how can I INFLUENCE my VULNERABILITY to trauma responses by 1% today?” 

Thinking and talking to ourselves in terms of influence, rather than “control,” and adding realistic frames around our self talk (1% today), shift how our nervous system processes and responds to our self talk and expectations. 

It’s the difference between a coach who only says broad, abstract things like “DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO WIN!” versus the coach who instructs you to “work on improving this specific skill by this specific amount, right now.” 

Our self talk around “control” is often one of our biggest vulnerabilities in trauma recovery, and we often don’t even realize it, simply because it’s so “natural” to think and talk in terms of “control.” 

Realistic trauma recovery is not about “control.” It never was. 

“Control” is really kind of a myth. 

I will bet on the survivor who gets serous about realistically INFLUENCING their patterns every time. 

drglenndoyle

CPTSD and systems of meaning.

At the core of CPTSD suffering is what psychologists call “systems of meaning.” 

It’s not just what happened to us. Though what happened to us may have been painful enough. 

It’s what we believe those things mean. 

We were abused. We were neglected. Those are facts. 

But Trauma Brain is absolutely going to try sell us on what those facts mean. 

It will try to convince us the fact of our abuse means, we “deserved” it. Or “asked” for it. Or maybe even “liked” it on some level. 

It will try to convince us the fact of our abuse means, we will always walk though this world damaged and dangerous. 

It will try to convince us the fact of our abuse means, we “have to” do self harmful things to regulate our emotions. 

None of those things are true. But Trauma Brain is going to try effortfully to make those narratives the backbone of our systems of meaning. 

The truth is, we get to decide what things do and don’t mean to us. 

We cannot change the fact of our trauma— but we can absolutely shape our understanding of what those facts mean. 

We do not have to accept anyone else’s systems of meaning. 

If someone else thinks we’re “broken” or “damaged goods” because we’ve been abused, that’s a drag— but we do not have to decide that’s what having been abused means to us. 

If someone else thinks abuse survivors “ask” for it, that’s a serious drag— but we do not have to buy into that system of meaning, either. 

Trauma Brain wants us to believe that the systems of meaning attached to certain facts are or should be “obvious”— but that’s just our trauma conditioning trying to get us to not question it’s bullsh*t. 

Our systems of meaning are ours. We get to choose them. 

We don’t have to just download and operate on someone else’s systems of meaning— including the systems of meaning embraced by our family or faith. 

Facts are facts. 

But meanings can be molded to support our recovery. 

drglenndoyle

CPTSD recovery and deconstruction.

It is very likely that your trauma recovery is going to invite you to deconstruct who you were taught to be. 

After all, CPTSD is about more than what happened to us. It’s about what we came to believe about ourselves. 

How we came to understand and interact with the world, at a time when we were being subjected to pain we could not escape, pain that entwined itself with our daily life so intricately that many CPTSD survivors even wonder “was it really trauma?” 

We “coped” and “functioned” by constructing a certain identity. Usually one “endorsed” on some level by the people or institutions who were abusing us. 

For some of us it was the identity of a religious faith. 

For others it was a particular gender identity or sexuality. 

For still others it was a political identity. 

In this process of trauma recovery, however, we are faced with the task of rebuilding ourselves from the ground up— and in that process becoming more authentic than we’ve ever been. 

More authentic than we’ve ever been allowed to be. Than we were ever safe to be. 

This is why you see so many trauma survivors in recovery suddenly realizing or publicly expressing things about themselves that they never would have in the past. 

Deconstructing an old, hand-me-down (or impose-upon-me-by-force) identity in trauma recovery can be exhilarating— but it can also be painful. 

After all, losing a version of ourselves that somehow, some way, got us by, is a loss. 

Deconstructing a religious worldview in particular can leave survivors feeling adrift spiritually, unsure what really matters in the grand, existential scheme of things. 

(Many CPTSD survivors who also have DID may also be aware of a “part” that resolutely hangs on to their old beliefs, even after their system has expressed a desire to move on.)

I want you to be aware that the pain and confusion of identity deconstruction is normal for survivors in recovery, especially if we’re recovering from coercive or high control relationships or groups. 

I also want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with this part of the journey being bittersweet. 

I also want you to know that many mental health resources may not quite know what to make of your deconstruction experiences and needs— but that there are many, many resources out there that speak to them. Many survivors who have shared their stories. 

This is not new. 

I strongly recommend, whatever else you’re doing on your recover journey, seek out memoirs and podcasts and other places where those who have been through complex trauma have shared their deconstruction stories. 

Because you’re not alone. You’re not the first, last, or only survivor to be up against what you’re up against in starting from scratch— spiritually, sexually, politically, or otherwise. 

This is part of the price of waking up. And it’s rough. 

Worth it— but rough. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Here’s the thing about exposure treatments for trauma…

If you’re working through your trauma wounds with the help of psychotherapy, there’s a chance you’re going to be told at some point that “exposure” is part of the process. 

For a long time, various exposure-based treatments were a centerpiece of working with PTSD. 

The reason for that is, PTSD was originally thought of as primarily a “disorder” of avoidance: we were hurt or terrified by a thing, so our nervous system got in the habit of avoiding that thing. 

The solution, it was thought, was to teach trauma survivors how to re-engage with the thing they were so hurt by, the thing they learned to avoid. That is to say: to expose them to it. 

To this day, “prolonged exposure” is a centerpiece of the Veterans Administration PTSD treatment protocol. 

Here’s the thing about “exposure” as a tool for working with trauma: it relies, in my opinion, on a very one dimensional view of how trauma impacts survivors. 

And exposure based treatments definitely were not designed with COMPLEX trauma or dissociation in mind— in fact, in my experience “exposure” can make CPTSD or dissociative disorders exponentially worse. 

Yes, it’s true that one of the common symptoms of PTSD is avoidance. 

But the trauma responses associated with CPTSD go much deeper than old-school formulations of PTSD acknowledge. 

Whereas PTSD tends to evoke reactions to what traumatized us, CPTSD tends to f*ck with our thoughts, feelings, and beliefs— about the world, about other people, but most notably, about ourselves. 

One of the most frustrating things ABOUT CPTSD is the fact that many of our trauma responses may not seem to have ANYTHING to do with what traumatized us— which, by the way, we may not even remember, due to how CPTSD tends to “Swiss cheese” our memory. 

You don’t change important beliefs through exposure. 

And if a survivor is dissociative— as almost all CPTSD survivors are, either a little or a lot— exposure based treatments are highly likely to just kick on those dissociative defenses. 

Oh, you may get a “part” out front that can pretend the exposure therapy was a great success. 

But what’s actually happened is, the complex trauma wound has been deepened. 

I’ve told you all that to tell you this: there IS no one-size-fits-all, “gold standard” treatment for trauma, especially CPTSD. 

Your trauma recovery blueprint has to be integrative and individualized. 

And before you proceed with ANY modality of treatment from ANY provider, look it up. Know the assumptions that modality makes, the theory of change that modality embraces— and the risks associated with that modality. 

I want the telltale sign that a trauma survivor has read my blog or page to be the fact that they are HELLA informed about their options and tools.


Even if that annoys some providers. (Sorry, not sorry.)

drglenndoyle

You do not need to “fix” yourself for anybody’s “love.”

You do not need to “fix” yourself for anybody else. 

Nobody’s love— in any healthy version of “love”— is dependent upon you “fixing” yourself. 

Don’t get me wrong, I understand why we trauma survivors think we need to “fix” ourselves to be “lovable.” 

It’s because we were conditioned to believe this toxic story about what “love” is and means. 

CPTSD survivors were very often “loved”— that is, given attention and afforded relative “safety”— when we were doing the “right things.” 

You know— basically behaving as the big people in our environment preferred. 

When we weren’t doing those things, we very often didn’t get that attention and relative “safety”— again, what we had come to understand as “love.” 

So, we developed this hard wired connection in our nervous system: we have to DO and BE very specific things in order to be “loved” and “lovable.” 

Now: it turns out all of that is bullsh*t. 

But it’s bullsh*t that gets reinforced, over and over again, in our culture. 

If you haven’t noticed, we are a culture absolutely OBSESSED with “earning” “love.” 

We are also a culture that deeply conflates love with attraction and stimulation, which doesn’t help. 

All of this makes it very easy for us trauma survivors to believe that our “only” shot at being “loved” is to “fix ourselves”— that is, conquer our symptoms and struggles, ideally through sheer “willpower,” ideally immediately. 

We came to understand “fixing” ourselves as the ultimate expression of our “love” for someone else— the ultimate “glow up” that might “make” somebody love us. 

I wish love and life and healing were all that straightforward. 

But they’re not. 

Nobody worth loving is going to make you “fixing” your CPTSD a precondition of their own love. 

Nobody who understands CPTSD will assume or assert that “fixing” your CPTSD has anything whatsoever to do with “willpower.” 

And love, real love, has nothing to do with superficial extensions of attention or feelings of stimulation. (Not that there’s anything wrong with attention or stimulation— but they’re not love.)

Why does any of this matter to your trauma recovery? Because if we think we’re working a recovery to “fix” ourselves, particularly for someone else, we’re starting from the wrong place. 

I’m not one to tell someone what language they can or can’t use in their own recovery— but I’ll tell you that every time I’ve seen a survivor start out from a place of “I need to ‘accomplish’ recovery to ‘earn’ love,” it hasn’t gone well. 

Trauma recovery is a long term project, a lifestyle. It’s not a series of “hacks” that become obsolete once we’re reached a level of “fixed” we find acceptable. 

And if we play along with this idea we have in our head, of “love” as something we can or have to “earn” (even by improving ourselves), we’re reinforcing a road map that has only led to pain in the past and can only lead to pain in the future. 

You are working a realistic recovery with the expectation of realistic change. 

This is not an exercise in “fixing” anything. This is about rebuilding your body, mind, and soul for the next several decades. 

drglenndoyle

What is trauma bonding?

When we are forced to be dependent upon people or institutions that have abused us or caused us pain, our nervous system has to figure out what to do with that. 

This is what we call a “trauma bond.” 

The most well known type of trauma bond occurs between abusive or neglectful parents and the children who have to cope with and process being dependent upon them— but that’s not the only situation in which trauma bonds occur. 

Remember that there are multiple kinds of dependency— and that our dependency needs don’t suddenly disappear when we’re no longer children. 

It’s very common for survivors to be trauma bonded to a church or religious identity— most notably when they believe that that faith provides something important for their eternal salvation. 

Survivors can be trauma bonded to people, organizations, or communities they believe are integral to their functioning— including multi-level marketing organizations, and/or gurus ad the communities that surround them. 

The key to understanding trauma bonding is that we are wired to survive above all else. 

If that means “bonding” with a person or other entity that is causing us pain, that’s what it means— and then our nervous system goes to work “reconciling” the fact that we’ve “bonded” with an abuser, usually by compartmentalizing knowledge and feelings via dissociation. 

It’s why you get some survivors vociferously defending their abuser in public. 

It’s why you get some survivors of religious trauma continuing to be “faithful” adherents to their church. 

What is important to know about trauma bonding is, it isn’t a “choice.” 

It’s a mind f*ck. 

Because you are or were trauma bonded to an abuser doesn’t mean you “liked” it. 

Because you are or were trauma bonded to an abuser doesn’t mean you can’t demand accountability. 

One of the reasons CPTSD is “complex” is specifically because trauma that occurs over time, is functionally inescapable, and entwined in our relationships, tends to f*ck with our attachment style and our beliefs. 

Talk about trauma bonding in a nutshell. 

You’re allowed to have complicated feelings about the people or institutions that hurt you. 

You’re allowed to have relationships with people or institutions that hurt you, if you choose. 

The point of understanding trauma bonding is to affirm that you also have the option of ending or limiting those relationships, if you choose— you don’t “have” to maintain them to survive. 

Not anymore. Not ever again. 

drglenndoyle

Why trauma conditioning’s bullsh*t sounds so convincing.

It can be hard, during the course of the day, to remember that what our trauma conditioning tells us is not reality. 

It sure FEELS like reality. 


Especially the stuff about how we suck and deserve to suffer and are destined to suffer. 

That stuff all tends to FEEL true— not because it is true, but because it’s consistent with what we were told growing up, often by the very people who were supposed to love and support us the most. 

When the people who share your name and DNA spent years effortfully sh*ttng on you, it’s hard to believe you “deserve” anything better. 

When the people whose job it literally was to raise you to understand who you are fill your head with doubt and fear, it’s hard to believe that you’ll EVER feel or function better. 

What we’re exposed to growing up, implicitly and explicitly, becomes our baseline. 

It becomes our programming, our operating system— and it runs so quietly and pervasively in the background, we barely register it’s a thing. 

Fast forward to now— is it any wonder we meet ideas about how maybe we’re not the worst, maybe we have something to offer, maybe we can do better, with skepticism? 

We’ve been programmed to doubt ourselves. To distrust ourselves. To believe that, given enough time, we’ll “obviously” f*ck up this job, this relationship, this opportunity, just like we “f*ck everything up.” 

It’s not real. It’s programming. Conditioning. Propaganda. 

And, like all propaganda, Trauma Brain’s bullsh*t has a specific goal: to make you and me feel like trash. 

That’s it. 

But you and I need to remember, Trauma Brain’s bullsh*t will FEEL real— because it is consistent with our past conditioning. 

It’s familiar. 

It goes down easy, because we’ve heard it before. Our nervous system has been “softened” to its message. 

That doesn’t mean our self-loathing, self-distrustful thoughts or beliefs are “true.” 

The real truth is, you and I are human. We’re mixed bags. Some things we do well. Some things we could stand to improve. Believe me when I tell you, trauma recovery will put us in touch with both of those categories. 

Because that harsh narrative about ourselves feels true doesn’t mean it is true. 

Yes, challenging it can feel like a risk. Like we’re setting ourselves up to get punked or punished. 

 I wouldn’t ask you to take that risk if I didn’t truly believe it was worth it. 

It is worth it. You are worth it. 

drglenndoyle

Don’t assume. Ask.

Many CPTSD survivors find it triggering— infuriating— when others assume things about us. 

When others assume they know what we’re thinking. 

Or what we need. 

Or what we can and can’t do. 

Many people in general find it annoying when others make assumptions about them— but it can really get under the skin of CPTSD survivors. 

Trauma survivors walk around feeling misunderstood about 90% of the time. 

Very often we walk around feeling as if we’re carrying these secrets— secrets about our past and or pain that aren’t safe to tell anyone. 

After all, we know what happens when we’re real about our experiences with many people: they overreact, they jump to conclusions, they push us away. 

We have LOTS of experience with others’ assumptions about us being very, very off the mark— and almost never are others’ assumptions about us complimentary. 

Many survivors have experience with people not being willing or able to meaningfully engage with us about our symptoms, struggles, or needs— and feeling alienated and shamed as a result. 

Take a look around at what the culture thinks it “understands” about trauma in general, let alone complex trauma or dissociation— then imagine those often exaggerated, inaccurate assumptions were copied and pasted on to you. 

Not great, right? 

One of the most healing things trauma survivors can experience in relationships of all kinds are people willing to ask us about our experiences and needs— and who are willing to actually listen to our answers. 

People who won’t treat us like a caricature or stereotype. 

People who are willing and able to remember that we are more than our post traumatic injuries— that our injuries actually get in the way of us communicating who we are. They don’t DEFINE who we are. 

Making assumptions about trauma survivors, what they experience, what they need and want, is condescending and unnecessary. 

Understand that “trauma survivors” aren’t even one big, homogenous block of people— there are as many different kinds of trauma survivors as there are different varieties of traumatic experiences. 

Don’t assume. Ask. 

And then, listen. Really, really listen. 

drglenndoyle

So maybe you’re stuck.

You might be reading this at a time in your life when you feel profoundly stuck. 

That might be more than a “feeling,” actually— you might, in fact, be stuck at this moment. 

Stuck in a job. 

Stuck in a relationship. 

Stuck in some sort of arrangement that is exploitative. Some sort of relationship, personal or professional, in which you are not seen or appreciated. 

Stuck in a position where healing your CPTSD feels improbable or impossible, because in this particular situation you are stressed and trapped and controlled— and you can’t imagine having the safety or support to make headway in your trauma recovery. 

Again, this may be more than a “feeling.” There are absolutely situations in which we can be objectively trapped. “Trapped” isn’t always a state of mind— and it doesn’t only happen to children. 

There are plenty of adults out there who feel trapped— and ashamed that they’re in the situation they’re in. 

If this is you, I need you to know you’re not screwed as far as recovery goes. 

Yes, it is definitely more difficult to recover from CPTSD if you’re in an exploitative relationship of any kind— let alone an abusive one. 

But there are things you can do. 

Much of the work of trauma recovery involves developing psychological strengths and skills, even before we make outward changes in our life— and you can start doing that, even if you’re stuck where you are for now. 

You can start learning about how trauma impacts the nervous and endocrine systems— and how to use the recovery tools of self-talk, mental focus, and physiology to start influencing your nervous and endocrine system responses. 

You can start developing recovery tools (things you can use), skills (things you can do), and philosophies (ways to think and process information) that will serve you when you finally ARE ready to make some external changes. 

There is no question: when we are stuck, trapped, or controlled in any situation, developing recovery tools and resources is more difficult. That’s real. You’re not imagining that. 

But I need you to remember that “difficult” is not “hopeless.” It is not “impossible.” 

If you’re reading this, you’ve likely done lots of difficult things in your life. 

Turning your focus toward developing internal recovery resources— at first, for now— is no different. 

You are not hopeless. You are not a lost cause. 

Start laying the groundwork. 

Every recovery— every escape— started inside someone’s head, as a plan.