Trauma survivors and “good natured” teasing.

Trauma survivors often struggle with teasing that is supposed to be “good natured.” 

That’s what the people doing the teasing think (or say), anyway. That it’s “good natured.” “Just teasing.” “Just kidding.” “Just jokes.” 

Many survivors find ourselves getting sensitive, hurt, and, yes, triggered by “good natured” teasing. 

And then, many survivors find ourselves embarrassed for being sensitive, hurt, or triggered by supposedly “good natured” teasing. 

Why? 

Many of us have had supposedly “good natured” interactions used to shame, control, or coerce us. 

Many of us grew up in families or peer groups that communicated through teasing and mocking and pranking— and we weren’t into it. 

Many survivors are nursing wounds and scars left by old, painful relationships— and we’re not really great at instinctively separating “good natured” teasing from mean spirited teasing. 

Many of us have been shamed to the tune of, “Oh, lighten up.” 

“It was just a joke.” 

“Get thicker skin.” 

Here’s the thing: when our closest relationships, the ones in which we “should” have been able to let our guard down, turned out to be not so emotionally safe, we adjust to that lack of safety. 

We get used to being on guard. And why wouldn’t we? 

That’s what growing up or existing in unsafe relationships for years does to our nervous system. 

For many of us it wasn’t a “fine line” between “good natured” and abusive teasing— because that line didn’t exist at all. 

You do not struggle with “good natured” teasing because you have “thin skin.” 

You struggle with it because you did not have the chance to establish a safe, secure foundation of self-esteem growing up. Which is neither your fault nor a “choice.” 

We can get better at tolerating these kinds of interactions as we work on realistically shoring up our self esteem in trauma recovery— but it takes time. And patience. And the willingness to forgive ourselves for struggling with any of it at all. 

There is no shame in getting triggered by “good natured” teasing. It doesn’t mean you’re a social or emotional “failure.” 

It means what it means: you have work to do creating safety inside your head and heart. 

Which, welcome to trauma recovery. We all have that work to do. 

You can do this. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

“Victim” is not a bad word.

You don’t have to choose between being a victim of trauma, and a strong, autonomous, authentic human being. 

You are both. 

“Victim” is not a bad word. It just states a fact. 

There is this bullsh*t cultural narrative that happens around the word “victim.” People are going to tell you “victimhood” is “just a mindset.” 

I wish that were true. 

I wish we could opt out of being victims by sheer force of will. 

But we can’t. And that has nothing to do with what most people mean when they refer to “victim mentality.” 

Most people, when they say “victim mindset,” are referred to a mix of helplessness and entitlement that they assume victims are “choosing.” 

Survivors of trauma should know this is bullsh*t— but we’re so used to blaming and shaming ourselves for everything that sometimes this bullsh*t is, well, sticky. 

Nobody “chooses” to be a victim. 

And empowerment— real empowerment, authentic empowerment, the kind of empowerment we nurture in realistic trauma recovery— has nothing to do with rejecting the “label” of victim. 

We were victimized. 

It does not define or defile us, but it is a fact. 

There is nothing shameful about having been victimized. We did not choose it. 

And it is not a “mentality.” 

I guarantee there will be someone down in the comments sputtering about how some people DO “choose” a victim mindset of helplessness and entitlement— and, to be fair, I suppose there are some who do. 

But they aren’t those who identify as survivors working a trauma recovery plan. 

Most of the time the whiny “victim mindset” types are abusers themselves, trying to pull of a DARVO (Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender) move. 

I’ve met and worked with many more trauma survivors than most people. And I can tell you without a doubt, “helpless” and “entitled” does not describe them. 

The culture can take its “victim mindset” head games and stuff them. 

Victimhood is not a “mentality” or a cause for shame. 

I’m a victim. And I am an empowered, skillful, realistic, authentic human being working to heal the patterns and wounds caused by my victimization. 

So are you. 

Why recovery supporting self talk is hard.

When we fist start paying attention to our self-talk in trauma recovery, it can be kind of shocking. 

We can be really f*cking mean to ourselves. 

We can be really f*cking mean to ourselves, without intending or trying to. 

Very few trauma survivors wake up in the morning and say to ourselves, “I’m going to beat the sh*t out of myself today.” 

Most of the time, that’s just how things work out— because we, like most of humanity, navigate most of our days on autopilot. 

We let our old programming run how we talk to and behave toward ourselves— and guess how our old programming has us talking to and behaving toward ourselves? 

Most of the time our old programming has us talking to and behaving toward ourselves like our bullies and abusers did. 

Mind you: this isn’t because we WANT to be like our bullies and abusers. 

Most of the survivors reading this would actually do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING to NOT be like our bullies and abusers. 

But many of us learned how to relate to ourselves through the example our bullies and abusers set. 

We internalized it. Unwittingly “downloaded” it into our nervous system. 

That’s why it’s so easy to be so hard on ourselves: we have lots of practice at it. 

We experienced it for so long, it kind of sunk in. Became part of our operating system. 

Then kicking the sh*t out of ourselves became so second nature, we stopped noticing when we were doing it. 

Years and years of that sh*t— is it any wonder that our “parts” and inner child don’t feel safe?

That conditioning is also why it’s so hard to STOP kicking the sh*t out of ourselves— because when we start intentionally trying to talk and relate to ourselves with compassion and kindness, it feels…weird. Wrong. Awkward. 

What that feeling ACTUALLY  is is, “unfamiliar.” 

CPTSD recovery is going to ask us, over and over again, to scramble old patters. Scratch old records. 

That starts with our self-talk. 

It’s real important we get OUT of the habit of talking to ourselves like our bullies and abusers did— even (especially!) if we’re deep in that habit. 

Yeah. Easier said than done. 

But real important to do, if we want our trauma recovery to be realistic and sustainable. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus. 

Just start by paying attention to your inner monologue. 

On a rough night.

Some nights you’re going to be in a terrible mood. 

Some nights words won’t even seem to make sense. 

Some nights your motivation is going to be garbage. 

And, let me spoil the suspense: Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, is going to use how we struggle on some nights to try to tell us WE’RE garbage. 

Mind you, that doesn’t mean we’re garbage. It means we’ve been CONDITIONED to feel like garbage when we struggle. 

It means we’ve been CONDITIONED to attribute the fact that we struggle to some inherent quality of our being— or the supposed “fact” that we’re just “failing” at life. 

I don’t care if you feel like garbage tonight, if you feel scattered tonight, if you’re in a terrible mood tonight, or if your motivation is dog sh*t tonight— none of that means you’re “failing,” at trauma recovery or life. 

It means what it means. It’s a rough night. They happen. 

What we say to ourselves really, really matters— ESPECIALLY on a rough night. 

It’s when we struggle, when we’re triggered, that our trauma conditioning really kicks in. 

Trauma Brain can do a reasonable job of quietly lurking in the background much of the time, only to rear right up when we’re having a tough night. 

Know why that is? Because rough nights make us vulnerable. 

We tend to go on autopilot when we’re having a rough night. 

And guess who and what experiences programmed our autopilot? That’s right— our abusers and bullies. 

Trauma Brain, in other words, does exactly what abusers and bullies always do: attacks us when we’re the most vulnerable. 

We need to remember that on our rough nights. 

We need to remember how we’re feeling on a a rough night is not the same as how we’re DOING, overall, in our recovery. 

(An old mentor named Andy taught me that: “don’t confuse how you’re FEELING with how you’re DOING.”)

On a rough night we need to remember that there is no rule that says we MUST feel good or better. We’re not going to be in trouble for having a rough night. 

On a rough night we need to remember that our biochemistry and psychological functioning fluctuates throughout the day and night— and the fact that we happen to be feeling like crap right now is part of that fluctuation.

On a rough night we need to remember that there is nothing in the world wrong with just getting by, leveraging the recovery tools of distraction and containment. 

If there is anything that is universal to EVERY survivor’s experience of trauma recovery, it’s that we are GOING to have rough nights. Not “maybe;” we absolutely will. 

It doesn’t mean what Trauma Brain wants you to think it means. 

So you’re feeling like sh*t. It happens. 

Don’t overreact. Don’t make long term decisions. Don’t make short term choices that will leave you feeling sh*tty tomorrow. You know the kind of decisions I’m talking about. Play the tape forward. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; and focus. 

Get through tonight. 

Then push the “reset” button tomorrow. 

Pain sucks.

You’re not wrong or crazy to try to escape pain. 

Trying to escape pain does not make you “weak” or “cowardly.” 

The vast majority of us try to escape pain whenever practical. Of course we do. 

You can let yourself off the hook for trying to escape pain. It’s okay. It’s normal. 

Why am I bothering to say this? Because you’re going to get a lot of sh*t for trying to escape pain from various sources.

You’re going to get Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, calling us “weak.” 

You might even get therapists telling you that trying to avoid pain will only ever create more pain. 

It’s true that making avoidance our go-to reflex is going to create more problems than it solves in the long term— but the way these conversations are often framed can leave trauma survivors feeling shamed and child like for trying to escape pain. 

It’s not true that “trying to avoid pain only ever creates more pain.” 

There’s a huge difference between pain that can be productively faced, processed, integrated, and transformed— and pain that just sucks. 

CPTSD is full of the pain that just sucks. 

Not all pain is meaningful. Not all pain leads to growth. 

Some people in our culture absolutely fetishize pain as an “opportunity for growth.” 

Your milage may vary, but I’ve never “grown” as the result of having a headache. 

Trauma survivors often have a complicated relationship with pain. 

Some of us get conditioned to believe we “deserve” it. 

Some of us get convinced we’ll never be able to avoid or reduce our pain, so we stop trying. 

Some of us develop an oddly codependent relationship with pain, and come to believe we can’t function or exist without it. 

Here’s the thing: you don’t have to apologize or feel shame for wanting less pain in your life, or doing what you can to escape pain. 

Nobody is handing out medals for enduring pain without flinching. 

Nobody expects you to love pain or embrace all pain as a “growth opportunity.” 

CPTSD survivors have to approach pain with gentleness and compassion and patience— like we approach all our struggles and symptoms in recovery— but it’s real important we not get in our head about what pain does or doesn’t “mean.” 

In my experience, most pain doesn’t actually have an existential “meaning.” 

You’re not “weak” for experiencing pain. 

You’re not “childish” or “whiny” for wanting less pain in your life. 

You are not under no obligation to cheerfully endure pain just to prove you can take it. 

Nobody is questioning your resilience or toughness. Nobody who matters, anyway. 

Pain sucks. 

And it’s okay to to just stay that flat out. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

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. 

Regret, amends, and trauma recovery.

You don’t have to love who you were or what you did, in order to forgive yourself. 

I say this as someone who has struggled with enormous regret for years. 

Regret is literally the biggest challenge in my own trauma and addiction recovery. 

I don’t love who I was or patterns of behavior that defined my life for…decades, actually. 

I look back and I cringe. Maybe you can relate. 

In my trauma recovery, I’ve come to understand that some, maybe many, of the situations that I hate thinking about now, weren’t actually my fault or my “choice.” 

But that doesn’t always help, does it? 

I still don’t love who I was or how I responded to those situations. 

I wish I’d have been cooler. 

Smarter. 

More skilled. 

I wish I’d had more integrity, been truer to myself. 

What many people don’t understand about trauma recovery is, it’s not just about what happened to us. 

It’s also about how we responded at the time— and how we respond now to memories and feelings associated with what happened. 

There were times when I was not a nice person. Not a reliable person. Not a person of integrity. 

Yes, I can have some compassion for and extend some grace to who I was then— he was, after all, working with the tools he had at the time. 

But I still don’t love it. 

I get asked a lot about the relationship between self compassion, self forgiveness, and those times when we weren’t our best selves. 

“What if I actually DID hurt someone, even if I was down the rabbit hole of a trauma response that I didn’t choose?” 

Well, what if? 

I actually agree that our trauma wounds don’t, actually, give us a “free pass” to hurt people. 

If we weren’t our best selves, if we behaved destructively, we should own up to that. 

The problem that many of us trauma survivors have with “owing up” to our past behavior, tough, is that we have a tendency, because of our trauma programming, to blow right past “accepting responsibility” and lock right in on “kicking the sh*t out of ourselves.” 

Kicking the sh*t out of ourselves is not useful, necessary, or deserved. 

“Personal responsibility” and “making amends” in the context of trauma recovery is not about self-punishment. 

It IS about accountability— and realistic accountability is about changed behavior. 

We don’t change behavior long term out of shame or punishment. 

As counterintuitive as it might be, self-forgiveness puts us in a much better  position to sustainably change how we think, feel, and behave going forward. 

“Grace over guilt” is not just a catchy slogan. 

It’s a summary of how we practically, realistically approach our role in the train wreck of our past.

Neither you nor I require “forgiveness” for things that happened TO us. 

And both you and I can realistically, self-compassionately take responsibly for how we’ve responded to the things that have happened to us without kicking the sh*t out of ourselves.

With practice, we can do that, anyway.

Trauma recovery hack: avoid loser sh*t.

Blaming victims for their own pain is such loser sh*t. 

Which shouldn’t surprise anyone who understands what Trauma Brain is: the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, which we unwittingly play on repeat (not because we “choose” to— but because those voices become part of our conditioning). 

Of course it’s loser sh*t. Our abusers and bullies were losers. 

It takes a real loser to victimize someone vulnerable. 

It takes a real loser to evade and deny responsibility the way our abusers and bullies often did. 

Many survivors get to this point in trauma recovery where our shame suddenly morphs into righteous anger about how we’ve been conned into doing our abusers’ and bullies’ dirty work for them in our own head. 

We got tricked into talking to ourselves the way they talked to us— not because we like it or even because we made a “choice” to, but because that’s how we were talked to for years. 

Our abusers’ and bullies’ voices are our models for how to talk to and otherwise treat ourselves. 

We unwittingly, unconsciously copied those losers. 

And at a certain point in our trauma recovery we realize that fact— and we’re pissed. 

And, like any point in our trauma recovery where we get angry, we can find ourselves walking this fine line between anger at our abusers and bullies— and anger at ourselves for buying into their BS (Belief Systems— but also bullsh*t). 

Let’s be clear: it is not our fault that we responded to our conditioning. 

That’s how conditioning works. It’s not a “choice.”

Trauma responses are not choices. 

The people who DID make choices were our abusers and bullies— and they made such unbelievable loser choices that they should be embarrassed for the rest of time. 

It is maybe the weakest decision possible to victimize a vulnerable person or animal.

Which is one of the huge reasons why it’s so important we develop radically different was of relating to ourselves in trauma recovery. 

We absolutely do not want to echo or reenact what they did to us. 

Our “parts” and inner child are vulnerable— and we owe it to them to be their protector, to be the one who listens to them and extends them grace and respect. 

We owe it to our “parts” and inner child to be worthy of their trust. 

All that starts with a commitment not to repeat the past, now that we know we’re vulnerable to it. 

Your and my abusers and bullies were huge losers. 

Their behavior is only useful to us as a negative model for how to talk to and behave toward ourselves. 

A fantastic place to start is: do the exact OPPOSITE of what those losers did. Especially when you’re frustrated with or otherwise feeling negatively toward yourself. 

This is how we build a realistic recovery. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

What “they” see is not the whole story of your CPTSD recovery.

What people see of our CPTSD recovery in public is only going to be a teeny, tiny percentage of the real story. 

The real story of trauma recovery happens in private. 

Private moments of doubt. 

Private moments of pain. 

Private moments of really, really wanting to hurt ourselves. 

Private moments of wanting to give up. 

Navigating those hard private moments, day after day and, especially, night after night— that’s what CPTSD recovery is really all about. 

The stuff other people see— us looking better, functioning better, showing up, engaging more— that stuff is all kind of gravy. 

For that matter, many of us survivors have lots of practice doing all that public stuff, even when we’re circling the drain. 

The truth is, nobody really knows how we’re leveraging our tools. 

How we’re talking to ourselves. 

How we’re using our mental focus. What we’re visualizing. The mental safe spaces we’ve created for ourselves, our “parts,” and our inner child. 

Nobody knows how we’re relating to our body and using our breathing to stay grounded and soothe ourselves. 

Only we know the full story. 

Only we know how hard we’re working. 

Only we know the real journey we’ve been on— and what point on that journey our current state represents. 

Don’t confuse what other people see with what’s really going on. 

They won’t see it all. 

They probably won’t see the most important aspects of our CPTSD recovery. 

But those milestones really, really f*cking matter. 

Whether or not I, personally, can see them,  I want you to know I understand how much work is happening beneath the surface. 

And I want you to know how overwhelmingly proud of you I am. 

That’s true whether or not I personally know you. 

Even if I don’t know you— I know you. 

We’re all in the same fight tonight. 

Keep on keeping on. 

Breathe; blink; focus— one minute at a time.  

We need support when we’re struggling, not judgment.

When we’re triggered, we need support, not shame. 

We certainly don’t need to shame ourselves for struggling. 

But— that’s what many of us have been programmed to do. 

We’ve been conditioned to lead off with telling ourselves all the reasons why we “shouldn’t” be triggered. 

To tell ourselves all the reasons why this trigger “isn’t a big deal.” 

We’ve been programmed to invalidate our reactions, our feelings, and our needs— and for that to be our reflexive FIRST take when we get triggered. 

Many survivors are profoundly embarrassed that we even get triggered. 

We’ve been told over and over again, that we’re “safe now,” that a trigger is “from the past” ad therefore “shouldn’t” be evoking the reaction it is. 

Okay— let’s say for a moment that’s true. Maybe we’re having a reaction to something that is NOT right here, right now— what are we supposed to do with this understanding? 

The fact is, we’re still reacting. 

We’re still being flooded with feelings and memories. 

Our nervous system is still melting the f*ck down. 

Do we really think all that’s going to halt the minute we accept that we “shouldn’t” be having the reaction? 

I’ll tell you what happens far more often: we tell ourselves we “shouldn’t” behaving this reaction— and then not only do we have the ongoing trauma response to contend with, but we have an extra layer of guilt for experiencing something that we’ve decided is invalid. 

Don’t do that to yourself. 

The truth is, if we’re having a reaction, that reaction IS proportionate to SOMETHING— even if it doesn’t happen to be something right here, right now. 

Our triggers reflect our wounds, and our trauma responses reflect our needs. 

Both our wounds and needs are valid. 

Neither our wounds or needs disappear because we don’t want to deal with them or because we’re embarrassed by them. 

If we try to deny or disown our wounds and needs, guess what happens? They grow. 

Ignore a wound, it festers. It gets infected. What was a wound that was painful turns into a systemic threat, maybe even to our life. 

Ignore a need, it gets more urgent. It becomes harder to ignore. It grows to the point where it WILL commandeer our attention, whether or not we want it to. 

Remember: trauma responses are not “choices.” 

There is nothing shameful about experiencing trauma responses, any more than it’s “shameful” to experience the reflex of pulling our hand away from a hot stove. 

Our nervous system is designed to keep us alive— and if we’re fighting, fleeing, fawning, freezing, or flopping in response to a trigger, it’s because some “part” of us honestly believes that’s what we have to do to keep on keeping on. 

We need support in those moments, not judgment. 

Just like broken limbs need X-rays and a cast, not to “try harder” to flex. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus.