drglenndoyle

Mile One is not Mile 26– but it counts.

The fact that we’re not where we want to be, in trauma recovery or in life, does not negate how far we’ve come. 

And by the way, even if “how far you’ve come” is having gone one day without harming yourself or otherwise relapsing, you have the right to be proud. 

Every long term recovery starts with twenty four hours— and every twenty four hours starts with one hour. 

If you’re reading this, chances are you’re at least sort of, kind of, maybe, considering trauma or addiction recovery, or you’re looking for things worth thinking about when it comes to making your trauma or addiction recovery realistic. 

That’s not nothing. That’s progress. 

So— even if you’re at the very beginning of the process, you’re not at Square One. Truly. 

And but also, you’re almost assuredly not where you want to be. 

No shame. I’m not where I want to be in my own trauma and addiction recovery. 

I’m not where I was, either— and both of those things are true and meaningful. 

The fact that we still have changes to make, doesn’t mean we’ve done nothing. 

Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, is going to try really hard to get you to think these overgeneralized, back and white terms. You know what I’m talking about. 

Trauma Brain is going to try, hard, to convince you that because you’re not where you want to be, because your life kind of (or really) sucks on multiple levels, then you’re “nowhere” in this recovery thing. 

Or that what you have done in recovery— up to and including reading these words— “doesn’t count.” 

My ass, it doesn’t count. 

Sustainable trauma recovery asks us to think not in black and white terms, but in realistic shades of grey. 

Sure, we’re not where we want to be, where we think we “should” be. 

But that doesn’t mean we’re nowhere. 

That doesn’t mean what we HAVE done in our recovery— up to and including these words— “doesn’t count.” 

I run marathons. And I can tell you that after running Mile One, every marathon runner is acutely aware that we have 25 miles left to go. 

But that doesn’t mean Mile One “didn’t count.” 

If I have to run 26.2 miles, I’d rather have run one mile than not. 

The fact that we’re not at the finish line, not where we want to be, not where we think we “should” be, means that we still have work to do, still have goals to focus on. 

But it does not mean we’re still at the start line. 

Radically accept where you are in this “trauma recovery” marathon— not because you want to stay where you are, but explicitly because you DON’T want to stay there. 


Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Sacrificing self harm, so we don’t become the “sacrifice.”

Trauma recovery is going to ask us to do some hard things— no all of which have to do with confronting trauma memories & feelings. 

Some of the hardest things trauma recovery asks us to do, are the things it asks us to not do. 

For example: trauma recovery is going to ask us to not harm ourselves. 

That’s harder than it seems for a lot of survivors. 

For a lot of survivors, harming ourselves is what we’ve been trained to do. It’s what we’re used to doing. 

For some survivors, harming ourselves is the only way we’ve found— yet— to change how we feel. 

For many survivors, self-harm is what we’ve been conditioned to believe we “deserve.” 

Yet: trauma recovery is going to ask us to not do that. 

Why? Not because we’re “bad” for doing it. 

It’s because trauma recovery is fundamentally about reshaping our relationship with ourselves to be safe and sustainable— and it’s hard to build a safe, sustainable relationship with someone you’re harming. 

It’s also because, as we get deeper into trauma recovery, we start to understand that we’re still carrying around younger versions of who we once were — “parts” of us— in our head and heart, and it very frequently scares and hurts them if we harm ourselves, even as a self regulatory strategy. 

I know better than most that not harming ourselves is sometimes not so simple or easy, any more than giving up other addictions are simple or easy. 

Self harm can be a deeply ingrained behavior pattern that we’ve come to rely on. I’ve known people who have considered self harm their only “friend,” in exactly the way I once considered my substances and behaviors of addiction as “friendly” and familiar. 

But self harm is something we just cannot take with us into recovery. Not if we want it to be realistic, not if we want it to be sustainable. 

Trust me, I know what Trauma Brain is saying to you right now. 

“He just doesn’t get it.” 

“He’s just saying that because it’s what therapists are supposed to say.” 

“He doesn’t know you, maybe you’re the exception, the one survivor who can recover while hiding your self harm. F*ck that guy.” 

(Believe me: you’re not going to be the one survivor who figures out how to drag their self harm habit into recovery. You’re not The Exception, any more than I am.)

Trauma recovery is about thinking, believing, feeing, and doing unfamiliar stuff— and also giving up some stuff that is familiar, but which communicates to our “parts” and inner child that we are “deserving” of pain. 

Ultimately, self harm imitates our bullies and abusers. 

And we’re done with that noise. 

We need to sacrifice self harm— so our recovery does not become the sacrifice. 

drglenndoyle

Nope. Not “stupid.”

That thing you think or feel, that you keep telling yourself is “stupid?” Is not stupid. 

There is nothing you can think or feel that is “stupid.” 

What we think and feel is just what we think and feel. No more; no less; no shame. 

Why do we hurl those labels at ourselves? “Stupid?” “Childish?” “Pointless?” 

Mostly because we’ve had those labels hurled at us. Sometimes over a long period of time; sometimes by people who claimed to “love” us.

We’re doing what we saw modeled. 

It’s true that we can, and often do, think and feel things that get in the way of our goals. 

Sometimes we think and feel things that make us feel not so great. 

Even those things aren’t “stupid.” Or “childish” or “pointless,” for that matter. 

If we’re serious about trauma recovery, we’re going to have to get out of the habit of mocking or dismissing or disparaging what we think and feel. 

Even when we don’t understand it. Even when we don’t love it. 

Here’s the thing: we don’t think or feel the things we think or feel on accident. 

They all make sense. 

They’re all tied to something important. 

Even the ones that seem “stupid” or “childish” or “pointless”— they’re important. They’re hooked into “parts” of us that are important. 

I don’t love everything I think or feel. There’s actually a lot that I think and feel that seems to work against my goals, that gets me behaving in ways that almost sabotage myself. 

It took a long time to get out of the habit of attacking myself when that happened. 

Our nervous system, our “parts,” our inner child— they’re not trying to sabotage us with the thought and feelings they throw our way. 

They’re just experiencing what they’re experiencing. They didn’t ask for those thoughts or feelings any more than we did. 

Meet thoughts and feelings you don’t love with acceptance and patience and realism. 

For that matter, meet the “parts” of yourself you don’t understand or love with acceptance and patience and realism. 

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

And good relationships are not built by hating on the things the person we’re trying to have a relationship with thinks or feels. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery and the zen of checking in.

One of the hardest parts of trauma recovery for many people is the check-ins. 

Trauma recovery thrives on self-check ins. 

So many of us were taught to deny, disown and ignore what was going on with us when we were growing up— physically, emotionally, spiritually. 

It’s really hard to meaningfully recover from trauma without reversing that habit of self-avoidance. 

That is to say: we need to check in. Take our own temperature. 

We need to ask good questions of ourselves— all day, every day. 

If we leave ourselves on CPTSD autopilot, we’re going to fall back into old patterns of self-neglect. Not because we want to, but because that’s our conditioning. 

Realistic trauma recovery means taking care of ourselves— and we can’t realistically take care of ourselves if we’re not paying attention to ourselves. 

Thing is: that’s hard. Checking in with ourselves is a hassle. 

Frequently we’ve gotten into the habit of not checking in with ourselves, because we don’t love what we see when we do. 

We avoid our sh*t for a reason. 

So those self-check ins, that are so important to meaningful trauma recovery, are harder than maybe they “should” be. 

You’re not alone in being reluctant to do it. 

You’re not alone in finding it hard. 

The key to the self check-ins is to not make them harder than they have to be. 

A self check-in doesn’t have to be comprehensive. You don’t need to go down a checklist. 

The main purpose of the self check-in is to communicate to yourself, to your nervous system and “parts.” 

We’re communicating to ourselves that our feelings matter. 

That our needs matter. 

The self-check in communicates to ourselves that, even if we were neglected for years by the people who were supposed to love us the most and pay the most attention to us, we’re no longer invisible. 


We’re no longer expendable or forgettable. 

Something I say to my patients a lot is, “recovery dies in silence.” 

What I mean by that is, we need self-communication in trauma recovery. We need to rewire and recondition how we talk to ourselves, how we direct our mental focus. 

We need to reshape our BS— our Belief Systems. 

All that requires constant, intentional communication inside. 

And that starts with the self check-in. 

“How’s everybody doing in there?” 

Don’t make it any more complicated than that. 

And don’t get discouraged if you don’t get anything back at first. 

Like every relationship, your relationship with yourself is going to take time to develop. 

Easy does it. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

And check in. 

(Now’s a good moment to start.) 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery and the zen of not overreacting.

If you’re reading this, you know that one of the hardest parts of trauma recovery is not overreacting. 

We don’t “choose” to overreact— we’re conditioned into it. 

We’re conditioned to believe we “have” to massively respond to many thoughts, feelings, and sensations. 

We’re conditioned to believe we “have” to punish ourselves for failures. 

We’re conditioned to believe we “have” to give up when we hit certain speed bumps or pot holes. 

The truth is, we don’t “have” to do nearly as much as our nervous system is convinced we “have” to— but we struggle to believe that, because so many of our reactions feel so urgent and unmanageable. 

Learning to not overreact, to not panic, takes a minute. 

And it also takes a steadfast willingness to not shame ourselves for the overreactions we’ve been conditioned into in the past. 

We didn’t ask for this conditioning. We don’t want it. 

The fact that we were conditioned to overreact to body sensations, thoughts, memories, or stimuli out there in the world— triggers— doesn’t make us “dramatic.” 

It makes us vulnerable to conditioning— just like every other human. 

So much of early trauma recovery especially is meeting our overreactions with acceptance, compassion, patience— and reminding ourselves that while there is no shame in this reaction, we can sit with it, breathe into it, manage it, and not amplify it. 

We don’t choose our reflexes. 

But we have some choices when we clock what’s going on. 

We don’t often have the choice to simply shut the reaction down— but we can choose how we talk to ourselves about it, how we explain it to ourselves, how we meet it, and what we do with our body and breathing in response to it. 

“Easy does it. Don’t overreact,” is one of my go-to self-talk statements. 

Putting some time and space between trigger, reflex, and reaction is a game changer for many trauma survivors. 

It all starts with acknowledging our vulnerability to overreaction— and getting curious about how we can reel it in, without getting judgmental or aggressive with ourselves.

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

This is your brain on CPTSD. Any questions?

Trauma responses literally scramble our brains. 

Well, “scramble” may not be exactly right. But trauma responses really do hijack specific areas of our brain— specifically the hippocampus (memory central) and the prefrontal cortex (decision making central). 

Most brain functions and areas aren’t quite as well understood as many sources seem to advertise— but we do know a few things about how fight, fight, freeze, fawn, and flop seem to impact our brain. 

For example, we know that when triggers slam into us, the hippocampus doesn’t process, consolidate, or retrieve memories particularly effectively. 

It’s one reason why post traumatic memory seems to “behave” so much differently than other memories— it’s being “regulated” and filtered by a brain structure that is on the fritz after being triggered. 

We also know that, when the sympathetic nervous system— the branch of our nervous system that throws the switch on trauma responses— is active, the prefrontal cortex seems to go largely offline. 

That is to say: we literally can’t think straight when we’re gripped by fight, fight, freeze, fawn, or flop. 

I’m not, actually, a believer that neurobiology can explain everything we need to know about trauma or recovery— but I do think a baseline knowledge of what CPTSD physically, chemically does to our brain can be helpful in easing off the self blame. 

How we feel and behave in the midst of trauma responses really are not “choices.” 

They’re the product of cortisol and adrenaline and dopamine surging through our most sensitive tissues, and knee-caping the organ that creates and consolidates our integrated experience of identity. 

Nobody’s “choosing” their way out of that neurochemical onslaught. 

Give yourself a break. 

You’re up against alterations in brain chemistry, structure, and function that ANY human, regardless of intelligence or “character,” would have trouble managing. 

The situation is not hopeless— but we need to be realistic where we actually have choices, and where we really, really don’t. 

Focus on the moments right AFTER you realize a trauma response has kicked in— when you start to regain some meaningful influence over your self-talk, mental focus, and physiology. 

That’s where your wiggle room is. 

That’s where we can start hacking back into our brain. Not before. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Your pain matters, too– not just your trauma.

There are going to be things that cause us pain, that aren’t directly related to what we consider our “trauma.” 

Those things can be easy to overlook or minimize. 

We can fall into the trap of believing that, because these pain points aren’t the ones we’re “working on” in our trauma recovery, that they don’t “count.” That they can wait. 

I’m going to tell you that all of your pain points, matter. 

I’m also going to tell you that a significant part of this trauma recovery process is about respecting your pain and your needs, regardless of their origin. 

Yes, recovery from trauma often involves processing the specific pain from identifiable moments in our past. 

But just as often, it is about healing and developing our relationship with ourselves, day to day, minute to minute— and that task often doesn’t directly involve engaging our past. Not consciously, anyway. 

Part of developing our relationship with ourselves is taking our pain seriously. 

That can be hard, when we don’t even understand or pain, or have trouble putting words to our pain. 

We survivors like to feel in “control.” We like being able to draw nice, straight lines between our past trauma and our current pain and needs. 

When we can’t do that, we get squirrely. And when we get squirrely, we get avoidant. 

And when we get avoidant, trauma recovery stalls. Every time. 

For my money, self-care is the backbone of realistic trauma recovery. 

I know, I know, a lot of people think the term “self care,” alongside the term “trigger,” is overused— but whether or not the term “self care” is actually overused, I can tell you it is definitely under-PRACTICED. 

The kind of self care that is the foundation of realstic trauma recovery means doing what we need to do every day to minimize and resolve pain points in our life— that is, attending to and developing our actual quality of life. 

Put another way: pain in your life that is not directly related to the events and relationships that evoked your CPTSD is STILL valid, still deserves attention and care and self-compassion.

You are not taking away from your trauma recovery by attending to those pain points. 

To the contrary: every time you take care of yourself, every time you do something concrete to feel less pain and more lasting, authentic pleasure in your life, you are working your recovery. 

I’ve said it before: so much of real world trauma recovery doesn’t even involve engaging with our trauma feelings or memories. 

But it ALWAYS involves treating our relationship with ourselves as the most important bond we have— and a relationship that absolutely must be nurtured and protected at every opportunity. 

drglenndoyle

CPTSD is a lying liar that lies.

CPTSD will straight up lie to us. 

Thats’ what CPTSD does best, actually. Lie. 

It lies to us about who we are. 

It lies to us about what we deserve. 

It lies to us about what we can do. 

Survivors know this, but everyone needs to know this. 

CPTSD specifically gets in our head and f*cks with our beliefs. 

People have this idea that PTSD is about what happened to us, and it is— but CPTSD is mostly defined by what it gets us to believe. The lies it gets us to believe. 

That’s why it ruins our relationships. Or threatens to, anyway. 

That’s why CPTSD f*cks with our ability to work. 

It’s why CPTSD has us self harming and self sabotaging all day. 

Because of the BS (Belief Systems) that inescapable, long term, relationship-flavored trauma installs in our head and in our heart. 

CPTSD is about more than flashbacks. 

It’s about more than hypervigilance, although CPTSD survivors can experience both flashbacks and hypervigilance. 

It’s about our self concept. The lies CPTSD gets us to believe about our very essence. 

This is what so many people don’t understand. 

Exposure therapy doesn’t undo this. 

Superficial cognitive therapy doesn’t undo this. Not entirely, not deeply. 

CPTSD and DID start to heal when we understand that this is overwhelmingly about our relationship with ourselves— and that the key to our healing is creating realistic safety inside our head and heart. 

CPTSD lies. 

CPTSD is probably lying to you right now, as you read this, actually. 

It’s probably telling you, “this doesn’t apply to you.”

It might be telling you, “you’re the exception.” 

It’ll tell you all sorts of things to get you to not think about things that matter to your recovery. 

Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies is nothing if not persistent. 

But remember: it lies. 

It lies, and it’s happy to use its lies to make you feel like garbage. Maybe even to get you suicidal. 

But once you understand how full of sh*t Trauma Brain is, you can’t un-know it. 

Nor do you want to. 

CPTSD is a lying liar that lies. 

Don’t mistake it for anything resembling your gut instinct. It’s not. 

Though it will do an amazing impression of it sometimes. 

drglenndoyle

Just notice.

As we work our trauma recovery, we get less attached to who we’ve had to be and what we’ve had to do to survive. And that can be bittersweet. 

It’s not that we necessarily “like” those patterns and coping mechanisms. Some of them we very much dislike, actually. 

But we feel somehow…loyal to them. 

After all, those patterns and coping mechanisms got us through some gnarly sh*t. 

It’s one reason why we can get more than a little defensive when people get on our case about our habits— it’s not that we necessarily like those habits either, but those people don’t understand how important those habits have been to us. 

Nor do those people often understand how afraid we are to give those patterns and coping mechanisms up.

You’re going to run into plenty of people who will try to tell you that giving up old patters that no longer serve us “should” be easy, or at last straightforward. 

After all, if it’s not serving us anymore, if it’s creating more problems than it solves, why are we hanging on to it? 

 Because loyalty. And more than a little bit of fear. 

The reality is, shifting away from old patterns and tools and habits is complicated. And we have to let it be complicated. 

It’s not going to work to try to shame or pressure ourselves out of those old patterns. 

What we can do is just notice as we start to be less attached to them. 

What we can do is meet our own complicated and bittersweet feelings with compassion and patience. Which, I know, isn’t always the biggest strength of us trauma survivors. 

Go easy on yourself. 

None of this “recovery” thing is particularly easy or obvious. And that very much applies to how we surrender old patterns. 

Just pay attention. Just notice. 

Just notice as those old patterns and coping mechanisms and habits feel less like you— day by day, hour by hour. 

No pressure. No rush. 

It’s a long walk back to Eden. Don’t sweat the small stuff. 

drglenndoyle

Reality check.

The reality is: the feelings and memories aren’t suddenly going away. 

No matter how much we wish they would. No matter what we do. 

We can do things to make ourselves less vulnerable to them and we can do things to diminish their intensity— and, yes, we can process them so they don’t affect us the same way anymore. 

But they won’t suddenly go away because we want them to. 

So: we need to find a way to be with them. To coexist with them. 

We need to find a way to sit with and tolerate those feelings and memories, at last temporarily. 

That requires patience. That requires realism and compassion and the willingness to allow those feelings and memories to exist— to not demand they go away or not exist. 

It requires our willingness to not beat the sh*t out of ourselves for having those feelings and memories. Not that anybody reading this— or the person writing this— ever does that, right? 

Right? 

Among the things we want and need our trauma recovery to be, is realistic. And realistic trauma recovery does not indulge fantasies about sudden transformation. 

The changes we make in our nervous and endocrine systems in trauma recovery will take time. That’s the reality. 

No, we don’t love those feelings and reactions and memories. And we don’t have to love them. 

But we do have to accept that they exist. We do have to let them exist. 

And we do have to commit to not attacking, shaming, rejecting, or abandoning the “parts” of ourselves that hold those feelings and memories. 

I know— tall order. 

But welcome to trauma recovery. 

It always, always starts with acceptance. Accepting reality. Accepting what happened, happened. 

Accepting that we do not have a choice about whether or not we’re trauma survivors— but we do have a choice whether to work our trauma recovery with patience, self compassion, and realism. 

Those feelings and memories are not suddenly going away. 

But we can work with them— if we’re not too busy denying and disowning them, or punishing the “parts” of ourselves that hold them.