drglenndoyle

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. 

drglenndoyle

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. 

drglenndoyle

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. 

drglenndoyle

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. 

drglenndoyle

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. 

drglenndoyle

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. 

drglenndoyle

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. 

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.