drglenndoyle

About that “safe relationships heal trauma” thing…

You’re going to hear it said again and again that you need to experience safe relationships in order to heal trauma— and, yes, safe relationships can sure help heal trauma. 

But I wouldn’t go so far as to say safe relationships are “the” thing that heals trauma. 

There isn’t really one universal thing that does heal trauma, unfortunately. 

But specifically when it comes to safe relationships: you can have all the safe relationships in the world, but they won’t help heal trauma unless you can internalize that safety. 

That is to say: unless you can use those relationships as a model for how to relate to yourself. 

The essence of CPTSD is that we don’t feel safe in our own skin. 

Yes, that lack of safety inside does mirror the lack of safety outside, especially in the past— but it’s the lack of internal safety that we’re carrying around, into every situation, into every relationship. 

It’s the lack of INTERNAL safety that drives our trauma responses, irrespective of how much safety does or does not exist around us. 

(Mind you, I’m NOT saying that external safety “doesn’t matter.” It’s just not what I’m talking about here.) 

If we’re going to realistically recover from our CPTSD, we have to find a way to internalize a feeling of safety— and that can only be generated by how we talk to ourselves, how we consistently leverage our mental focus, and how we use our physiology, notably our breathing. 

Safe relationships can HELP us develop self talk, mental focus, and physiology that support us feeling safe in our own skin— but I get real annoyed whenever I see someone pretending that “safe relationships” in themselves “heal” trauma. 

Why does this matter? It matters because if we try to put all our recovery eggs in the basket of “safe relationships,” we’re misunderstanding the task in front of us— and we’re setting ourselves up for potentially unhealthy dependence on others. 

I used to have a therapist to whom I felt very positively attached. He offered a great deal of modeling when it came to consistency, honesty, and kindness. But for a long time, even with this experienced, skilled therapist, I stayed stuck— because I had this idea that it was something about him that would somehow “heal” me. 

I now understand that that therapy relationship, like any healing relationship, was a tool— useful, but not in itself what was going to complete the project. 

The project is a DIY project— a Do It Yourself one. 

Many people don’t love hearing that, but it’s the f*ckin’ truth. 

I want everybody to have safe relationships. Everybody reading this DESERVES safe relationships. There is no denying the power of safe relationships to support us in learning and practicing new ways of relating to ourselves. 

But we need to be crystal clear on the fact that it’s the “relating to ourselves” part that does the heavy lifting. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

You are not “lazy.” That’s Trauma Brain f*cking with you.

You are not “lazy.” That’s Trauma Brain f*cking with you. 

Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, is real good at giving us pat explanations for our behavior like that— “you’re just lazy”— that chalks what we do up to who or what we ARE. 

Oh, and it usually gets us feeling like garbage. 

Here’s the thing: Trauma Brain is not interested in reality. 

It’s not interested in helping you live a productive, happy life. 

Trauma Brain is mostly interested in you feeling exactly like you did when you were being abused: small. Helpless. Hopeless. 

It’s true that many trauma survivors struggle with motivation— but that has zero to do with “laziness.” 

Often, our struggles with motivation have to do with a “freeze” response. 

When we’re triggered, our nervous system might reflexively default to standing still— which, from the outside, might LOOK like a “choice.” 

But believe me when I tell you: trauma responses are not choices. 

When we’re stuck in a “freeze” response, the very idea of taking action might seem overwhelming— and it’s almost impossible to “think” or “will” our way out. 

Trauma survivors can get sh*t for lacking motivation, procrastination, missing deadlines— when the fact is, we’re “frozen” in a state of sympathetic nervous system activation. 

And we’re not going to bully ourselves out of it. 

Here’s the other thing about Trauma Brain calling us “lazy:” it’s not just sh*tty because it makes us feel like garbage. 

It’s also sh*tty because calling ourselves “lazy” doesn’t actually help us solve the problem. 

Say we accept Trauma Brain’s label of “lazy.” Okay, what then? What’s the solution? “Quit being lazy?” 

That’s about as effective as a therapist responding to a patient’s pain with, “have you considered just not feeling that way?” 

Trauma Brain— or anyone else— calling us “lazy” doesn’t help us design a solution. 

Considering whether we’re in a functional “freeze” state— perhaps exacerbated by what I call Post Traumatic Exhaustion— actually helps us understand both what’s actually going on and what we actually need to do about it. 

Trauma responses only diminish when we feel safer— specifically when we take realistic steps to help our inner child and “parts” feel safe. 

There are many ways to approach that, but they all involve self talk, mental focus, and physiology, especially breathing. 

Do not accept Trauma Brain’s blithe assertion that you’re “lazy.” You’re not. 

Most trauma survivors are among the hardest working humans on the planet. We have to be, just to exist in our skin. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

You’re not a “failure.” You’re a work in progress.

You’re working on stuff. That’s all. 

You’re a work in progress. No more, no less. 

You’re not “terrible” at emotional regulation. You’re working on it. 

You don’t “fail” at making decisions. You’re working on it. 

You’re not “bad” at relationships. You’re working on it. 

Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, tries to tell us, over and over again, that we’re terrible, we fail, we’re bad at all sorts of things. 

The truth is, we may not be great at those things— but in recovery, we’re working on them. 

Reminding ourselves of this matters. 

We’re not terribly motivated to try at things we think we just suck at.

Telling ourselves we just suck at certain things is a pretty reliable way to get us to avoid those things. 

Telling ourselves we just suck at certain things tends to reinforce the belief that we are stuck with how we feel and function right here, right now. 

The reality is, we are not stuck. 

If we continue working our recovery, almost every important aspect of our lives is going to look significantly different in a year. Let alone five years, let alone ten years. 

But all that supposes we don’t give up because we’re demoralized or exhausted. 

Trauma Brain wants us to believe that we “have” to get better at these things all at once. That we “do better.” 

Realistic trauma recovery is about doing better, sure— but more importantly, it’s about consistently GETTING better. 

We GET better in increments. 

We GET better in these teeny, tiny fits and starts that are sometimes so small or irregular that thy don’t FEEL like progress at all. 

We GET better by focusing on our trajectory— not our speed. 

(This is one of my core tools of trauma recovery: trajectory matters way more than speed.)

I understand you’re not where you want to be today. Neither am I. 

But we’re not screwed. We’re not hopeless. We’re nowhere near done with our journey, our process, our project. 

We’re working on it. 

Use the tool of self-talk to regularly remind yourself: you’re not a “failure.” You’re a work in progress. 

That’s not toxic positivity bullsh*t— it’s the f*ckin’ truth. 

drglenndoyle

By the way: most “shoulds” are bullsh*t.

“Should” is a trap. 

It’s also one of Trauma Brain’s most reliable tools to make us feel like garbage— so Trauma Brain goes to it a lot. 

We think “should” should— ha!— be useful for us. 

We think “should” should help us live a good life. 

It seems simple enough, right? In order to live a life we like, we “should” do certain things, and we “should” avoid certain things. That’s reality. 

But that’s not really how Trauma Brain weilds the word “should.” 

Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers that we unwittingly play on a loop for decades, wields the word “should” like a weapon. 

Most trauma survivors’ self talk is absolutely RIDDLED with “shoulds”— and many of those shoulds are not demonstrably attached to a realistic, desired outcome. 

Many of us are so used to thinking in “shoulds” that we can’t even imagine the alternative— as in, how would we ever get stuff done if we reeled in the “shoulds?” 

It’s a fair question, but let me ask you: does thinking in “shoulds” tend to motivate you or discourage you? 

For most of us, “should” does far more to exhaust and discourage us than it does to motivate or focus us. 

A lot of this comes down to how trauma survivors have been conditioned to think about our goals, values, and the future. 

If you haven’t noticed, CPTSD does a serious number on our ability and willingness to even think about any of these. 


CPTSD tends to be VERY good at convincing us that it’s pointless to set goals; that we’re incapable of meaningfully living congruently with our values; and that the future is only going to be the same kind of sh*t show our past has been. 

Consequently, using “should” as a way to guide us toward goal directed, values congruent, or future oriented choices, goes out the window— because we’ve been conned by CPTSD to not think of or invest in those things. 

So we’re left with “shoulds” that just kick the sh*t out of us for no reason. 

“Shoulds” that just remind us that we’re falling short. 

Realistic trauma recovery requires us to use the tool of self-talk to really reel in the role “should” plays in our emotional life and decision making. 

That said, it’s real important we not turn “reeling in the shoulds” into another f*cking “should.” 

What I want you to do is just notice. Just notice the role “shoulds” are playing in your self talk. 

Then, inject what I call the “should buster” question: “Why?” 

If a “should” is legitimate, it will have a coherent answer to WHY you “should” do or not do something— an answer that is demonstrably linked to your goals, values, or future. 

If a “should” is Trauma Brain bullsh*t, it’ll probably try to shame you for even asking. 

Notice that. 

And start seeing Trauma Brain BS (Belief Systems) for what they are— propaganda tools. Not instruments of reality or recovery. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Why naming our emotions can be a useful trauma recovery tool.

Naming our emotions can be a powerful, underused CPTSD recovery tool. 

Naming our emotions as we experience them helps pry us out from feeling overwhelmed by them, immersed in them. 

It shifts us, at least a little, to an observer of our emotions, not just who experiences them. 

Naming our emotions communicates to our nervous system and “parts” that our emotions are important, and worth identifying. That we respect and value them enough to be specific. 

Naming emotions can help reduce their intensity. There’s a difference between feeling “sadness” or “fear,” for example, and “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” 

Naming our emotions enlists the left hemisphere of the brain. Anything that gets us using words when we’re overwhelmed hooks into that left hemisphere— which is the “coolant” to the “nuclear reactor” that is our overheated right cerebral hemisphere. 

(This is one reason talking in therapy or to a friend when we’re emotional often calms us down— using words and giving structure to what we’re experiencing taps into that “cooling” left hemisphere, instead of leaving us stranded with a right hemisphere that is melting down.)

Naming our emotions gives us a chance to actually devise a realistic strategy for processing and responding to them. Sadness requires a different strategy than fear, requires a different strategy than anger. 

What we’re experiencing matters when it comes to realistic strategy and tool selection. 

Naming our emotions can be a step toward validating them— and validation needs to be worked into any and every effective CPTSD recovery tool and strategy. 

Naming our emotions might take practice and patience, especially if we’ve been conditioned to deny and disown our emotional life— as most CPTSD survivors have been. 

So— don’t pressure yourself. 

Maybe even start with an emotion chart or wheel. Think of getting to know your emotional world like learning a language— you might need some vocabulary “flash cards” at first. 

But people learn languages. 

Just like survivors can get good at naming our emotions. 

It’s a straightforward, free recovery tool that we have nothing to lose, and potentially a lot to gain, by trying. 

drglenndoyle

No trauma survivor “likes” chaos.

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

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

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

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

Trauma survivors have very often learned to function in chaos. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

So we might retreat back into chaos. 

Chaotic relationships. Chaotic living situations. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

drglenndoyle

CPTSD anxiety is not “normal” anxiety.

CPTSD anxiety is not “normal” anxiety— and if we try to manage it like “normal” anxiety, we’re going to end up exhausted and demoralized. 

That said: lots of people in our life will assume CPTSD anxiety is “normal” anxiety. 

And those people will suggest all sorts of “normal” ideas for handling it. 

It’s not so much that the ideas for handling “normal” anxiety are bad, in and of themselves— it’s that people who assume our CPTSD anxiety “should” be more responsive to those ideas can get frustrated and judgmental when they don’t work. 

Everybody experiences anxiety at times. 

But it’s not the kind of crushing, consuming anxiety that accompanies CPTSD. 

CPTSD anxiety very often feels like we are going to literally die. 

It very often revolves around things we “know” we are avoiding or that we need to face— but we don’t at all feel equipped to face head on. 

Many CPTSD survivors describe their anxiety as being in an impossible bind: we cannot imagine continuing to exist this way, but we also cannot imagine NOT avoiding what every cell in our body is insisting we “have” to avoid. 

CPTSD anxiety feels like we’re simultaneously paralyzed and being pulled apart. 

That’s not “normal.” That’s not “pop a Xanax and think of Christmas” anxiety. 

CPTSD survivors are very often encouraged by the people around us to minimize or belittle our symptoms, including anxiety. 

“You’re making too big a deal of it.” 

“You’re only looking at the negative, of course you’re anxious.” 

“Everybody experiences anxiety, why are you making such a production out of it?” 

Of the things CPTSD survivors need when we’re trying to navigate post traumatic anxiety, judgment and shame are overwhelmingly unhelpful. 

Nobody is “choosing” CPTSD anxiety. 

Realistically managing CPTSD anxiety starts with meeting it with enormous validation and self-compassion. 

Use the tool of self-talk to affirm that this symptom is not “crazy”— it makes sense someway, somehow, to some part of us— and we are going to treat it with the attention and care it deserves. 

Get curious about the “part” of yourself that might be driving the anxiety— what does that “part” hold? What does it want? What does it need? 

We can manage CPTSD anxiety, but not from a place of judgment. 

CPTSD anxiety is no fun, and it is not a “choice”— and it can be exceedingly difficult when the people around us, often the people who should be on our side and have our back, lead off with invalidation. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus; and start off with validation and self-compassion. 

Just like with very CPTSD symptom we want to realistically manage and reduce. 

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

Let ’em moo.

As we work our trauma recovery, we’re going to get sh*t from people. 

Not “maybe.’ We will. 

Some of those people may be well intentioned, some of them won’t be— but all of it is going to be annoying. 

Here we are, just trying to make micro choices that support our safety and stability, and here they are, well intentioned or not, giving us sh*t. 

Let me assure you that no trauma survivor or addict in recovery is struggling because they haven’t gotten enough sh*t. 

Giving them more sh*t probably isn’t the move that will finally nudge them into a better place. 

But also, here’s the thing about many of the “helpful” people who are so willing and eager to give us sh*t as we work our recovery: their values, goals, or worldview may not have anything to do with ours. 

When people give us input or feedback, they make this huge assumption that we want what they want. That we value what they value. That we can do what they can do. 

But it’s very often not true. 

You need to know that the vast majority of sh*t you’re going to get in your recovery journey will be from people you don’t want to approve of you, anyway. 

Everybody’s going to have an opinion about how everybody else “should” be living their life— but that opinion may or may not be valid when it comes to you. 

But we may not always have a lot of perspective on that, thanks to the “fawn” trauma response at work. 

“Fawn” will try, hard, to convince us we “have” to take the sh*t other people give us. 

We don’t. 

It actually doesn’t matter if they approve of you. I don’t even care who “they” are, in this context. 

Anyone giving you sh*t for how you’re working your recovery is kvetching from the cheap seats. 

You’re the one in the arena. 

I’ve said it before: their opinions are a moo point. 

You know, it’s like a cow’s opinion. It just doesn’t matter. 

It’s “moo.” 

So they’ll give you sh*t. So they may not approve of how you’re working your recovery. So they’ll judge and they’ll b*tch and they’ll find all sorts of ways to try to make you feel like you’re doing it wrong. 

So? 

Let ‘em moo. 

You stay focused on YOUR recovery micro goals today, this hour. 

drglenndoyle

F*ck judging our thoughts and feelings.

Judging the sh*t out of ourselves is going to make every “sticky” thought or feeling we have, “stickier.” 

Trauma survivors are very often conditioned to show ourselves no mercy when it comes to what we “should” and “shouldn’t” think or feel. 

Barely a thought crosses our mind without us passing a harsh judgment on it. 

Barely a feeling touches our heart without us excoriating ourselves for feeing things, or feeling things more intensely, than we “should.” 

The truth is, there are no “shoulds” when it comes to thoughts or feelings— we think what we think and we feel what we feel. We like some thoughts and feelings more than others— but none of them are “evidence” that we’re doing this whole “being a human” thing “wrong.” 

But that’s not what Trauma Brain is going to tell us. 

Trauma Brain, what I call the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers that we play on repeat for decades, will tell us we “have” to judge and obsess over what we think and feel. 

Trauma Brain especially likes to tell us that we’re feeling “too much.” That we’re “too sensitive.” That the intensity with which we feel things is evidence we’re “weak” or “broken.” 

That is straight Trauma Brain BS (Belief Systems— but also, you know, the other kind of “BS”). 

Here’s the thing: those thoughts and feelings that we don’t love? Judging ourselves for them is going to make them hang out in our brain and body for much longer than they otherwise would. 

Judgment makes “sticky” thoughts and feelings much “stickier.” 

Nobody reading this judges their thoughts and feelings for the hell of it. We are responding to conditioning. We were programmed to relate to ourselves harshly. 

We do need to decide that we’re tong to change how we relate to ourselves— but changing that pattern requires more than a “decision.” 

It requires us to catch ourselves when we’re doing it, push pause, and choose to talk to ourselves differently. 

To scratch that old record— again, and again, and again. 

Not easy. Worth the effort— but not easy. 

Remember, when you’re tempted to beat the sh*t out of yourself for something you’re thinking or feeling, “this is only going to prolong my relationship with this thought or feeling I hate.” 

Then I recommend inserting this well-validated, very clinical turn of phrase into your self-talk: “F*ck that.” 

Because f*ck judging your thoughts and feelings, you know?