drglenndoyle

Notice.

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how their behavior, is your fault. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how you’re “only” suffering because you are “weak.” Or “stupid.” Or, or, or. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how you don’t “deserve” better than you’re experiencing now. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how you’re The Exception to the fact that human brains and nervous systems can change with experience and guidance and support. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how because certain things happened to you, you “must” be “destined” for pain and misery for the rest of your life. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how none of the recovery tools that work for other survivors, will work for you. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how you “should” be further along in you recovery by now. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how you “should” be fairer or kinder or give another chance to people or institutions that hurt you. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how recovery is too complicated for you to wrap your head around. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how you don’t have the “willpower” or patience or focus to meaningfully recover from trauma. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how you “can’t” let on to anyone, under any circumstances, how much you’re struggling.

Notice when you’re telling ourself a story about how the “memory holes” in your past “must” mean that there’s nothing there. 

Notice when you’re telling yourself a story about how what happened to you wasn’t “bad enough” to result in your current symptoms and struggles. 

Just notice. 

Notice, and remind yourself: this is BS. Belief Systems. 

They’re Belief Systems so common to trauma survivors that I can list example after example just now, and know that it will resonate with most of the survivors reading my page. 

None of those are true. 

Some of them start out with kernels of truth, but Trauma Brain— what I call the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, that play in our head on repeat for years— effortfully, very effectively, warps them into self-defeating assertions that we buy hook, line, and sinker. 

Why do we swallow Trauma Brain BS? Not because we’re “stupid.” 


Because we’ve been brainwashed. Conditioned. Programmed. 

Realistic trauma recovery is about scratching the record. Waking up. 

Seeing the stories for what they are. 

And creating new stories for ourselves that are more reflective of reality and more relevant to who we are and what we’re all about. 

drglenndoyle

Love was never something you should have had to “earn.”

It’s not our fault that we came to believe we had to “earn” love. 

We should have been loved in such a way that we truly believe we deserve it. 

But— what happened, happened. 

Our brain loves to make what happened about us— but the truth is, we couldn’t have done our parents’ jobs for them if we’d wanted to. 

It wasn’t our job to teach ourselves about love. 

It wasn’t our job to teach ourselves we are worthy. 

We don’t know what any of that is or means when we’re kids. 

All we know is what we feel— and we believe what we feel. 

Neither you nor I were abused or neglected because we were “unworthy” or “unlovable.” 

There was nothing we did, or could have done, to “deserve” what happened to us. 

It’s pretty f*cked up, how many people com through childhood believing we have to “earn” love— but believing that we somehow effortlessly “caused” our abuse or neglect. 

Nether you nor I “caused” or “allowed” our pain. 

Recovery means accepting that— which is harder than it sounds. 

Accepting that we got enormously unlucky is very, very unsatisfying. 

But— that’s what happened. 

We didn’t choose our parents, and we didn’t choose the environment we grew up in. 

And because of our conditioning, many of our choices since them weren’t exactly “free,” either. 

None of this is easy to wrap our head around. 

But that’s okay. It doesn’t all need to happen today. Acceptance is a process, more than a “choice.” 

Today just start with: it was not on you to “earn” love. 

It’s not your fault that you still feel you have to “earn” love. 

Tell your “parts” and your inner child that they are lovable and loved (even if you don’t quite feel that self-love yet). 

We can’t change the past, or how the past shaped our nervous system up to this point. 

We can change our nervous system going forward— with what we say to ourselves, how we direct our mental focus, and how we leverage our breathing and physiology, today. 

So: breathe; blink; and focus. 

Repeat as needed. 

drglenndoyle

CPTSD, self trust, and conditioning.

CPTSD is going to have you not trusting yourself. 

CPTSD is going to have you telling yourself stories about how you’re struggling because you’re “lazy” or “stupid”— and minimizing the obstacles that have been thrown in your path. 

Remember what CPTSD is: in contrast to PTSD, which revolves largely (but not only) around intrusive memories and reactions to our trauma itself, CPTSD is largely (but not only ) about what happened to us has conditioned us to believe about ourselves and the world. 

Most of the time our CPTSD conditioning hones in on how much we suck. 

We can often trace that conditioning back to messages we received— sometimes explicitly, sometimes implicitly— growing up. 

Many CPTSD survivors describe being told that the main or only reason people struggle or suffer is because they are “weak.” 

Many CPTSD survivors remember parents and other adults in their world who convinced them to accept “no excuses” for struggling— who conditioned them to believe that everything was their fault, and everything was their responsibility. 

That BS (Belief System— but also the other kind of “BS”)— “everything is my fault, and everything is my responsibility— is maybe the most common mindset to be found among CPTSD survivors. 

Even if we back up and try to look at it “objectively,” we have Trauma Brain, what I call the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, “helpfully” telling us that it doesn’t matter what we would tell anybody else in our situation: we are CLEARLY at fault for our own pain. 

Moving past that “everything and everything” BS, as I call it, is a core task of trauma recovery. 

And maybe a little surprisingly, it begins with confronting fear. 

Fear of what it would mean for us to stop believing everything was our fault, and everything is our responsibility. 

Fear of what others might think or say if we gave ourselves a break, cut ourselves a little slack. 

Fear of what those adults who taught us to think that way would think if they knew we were letting go of what they tried so hard to drill into our head. 

My point is: it’s not a one time decision to “let go” of CPTSD BS. 

We don’t believe those things for the hell of it. They were conditioned into us. Change is going to require reconditioning ourselves. Rewiring ourselves. Reformatting our hard drive. 

That is to say, it’s a process. 

And, like most processes that ask us to reconsider things we’ve thought, felt, believed, or done for a long time, it’s going to take time and feel awkward or painful at points. 

That’s why we keep repeating “one day at a time” over and over again in recovery— and why I frequently take that down to one hour or one minute at a time. 

Or, even more simply: breathe, blink, focus. 

You can learn to trust yourself again— or, maybe, for the first time. 

CPTSD isn’t going to make it easy. 

But then again, if you’re reading this, you’re probably used to doing hard things. 

You’re up to this. 

drglenndoyle

Don’t take CPTSD’s lies at face value.

Spoiler: your trauma conditioning will find every possible way to label every halfway positive thought you ever have about yourself as bullsh*t. 

Trauma Brain, what I call the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers that we play on repeat for years and years, has absolutely no interest in what’s actually true. 

But it’s very good at telling us we suck. 

Trauma Brain is so skilled, so gifted, at telling us we suck, that it will find new and creative ways to inform us we suck, almost daily. 

There isn’t a positive or gentle thought about ourself we can think, without CPTSD stepping in and telling us how none of that “positive” stuff is true— but every negative thing we think about ourself is “obviously” the “real” truth. 

You need to know that has nothing to do with reality. 

You need to know that has everything to do with conditioning. 

I talk a lot about how trauma conditions us— what it conditions us to think, to believe, to feel, and to do. I do this because I believe conditioning is at the heart of our CPTSD wounds. 

I don’t believe CPTSD is entirely about what happened to us. I believe it’s about what the things that happened to us, did to our nervous system going forward. 

People think CPTSD is about “the past.” It’s not. It’s about what’s going on in our nervous system, inside our head and our heart, right here, right now. 

It’s about how all that conditioning makes it hard to live life. To hold down a job. To manage relationships. To manage money. To manage feelings. 

Nobody reading this is “stuck in the past.” Not the way people think we are, anyway. 

We are stuck in patterns of thinking, believing, feeling, and behaving that were powerfully shaped by the past— and that sh*t doesn’t change overnight. It doesn’t change with a one time decision. 

That’s what I wish people understood. 

That’s what I need you to understand. 

Trauma Brain is going to try to tell you you can’t do anything right— but that has nothing to do with whether you can or can’t do anything right. 

Trauma Brain is going to try to tell you you can’t make a relationship work— but that has nothing to do with whether you can or can’t make a relationship work. 

Trauma Brain is going to tell you there is no hope for you. But that has nothing— nothing— to do with whether there actually is hope for you. 

Trauma Brain is an unreliable narrator. 

Remember that. 

No matter how convincing or vivid or familiar CPTSD’s lies are, they are still lies. 

Lying to us about us is what trauma does best. 

Don’t take CPTSD’s lies at face value. 

drglenndoyle

Trapped, controlled, in trouble.

The three most common triggers I encounter working with trauma survivors are feeling trapped; feeling controlled; and feeling “in trouble.” 

Almost every trigger many trauma survivors experience can be traced back to one or a combination of those. 

A useful recovery supporting question is often, “how is this making me feel trapped, controlled, or in trouble?” 

If you can think to ask that question, if you can get in the habit of asking it, the answer usually becomes apparent— and you can start realistically planning how to unwind that activated state. 

As it turns out, there are many more things that make us feel trapped, controlled, or in trouble than we might realize. 

That “in trouble” one, for me, is a real struggle session. 

For me, it can be triggered by a look, a tone of voice, or something shifting in someone’s energy toward me. 

I’ve literally asked relationship partners if they’re mad at me “out of nowhere,” because my hypervigilant nervous system has detected a subtle shift in their vibe toward me. 

Sound familiar? 

Similarly, it’s real easy for us survivors to feel trapped or controlled by attempts to help or support us— if we feel those resources are somehow trying to “make” us do something, or we feel we have “no choice” but to do it. 

It doesn’t particularly matter if whoever or whatever is making us feel trapped, controlled, or in trouble, actually WANTS us to feel trapped, controlled, or in trouble— if our nervous system is going down that rabbit hole, it’s going down that rabbit hole. 

We may not have a lot of say about whether or not our nervous system goes down the trapped, controlled, or in trouble rabbit hole— but if we understand those are our most common triggers, we can start to pay attention to and understand what’s happening. 

When we understand which triggers or combination of triggers is contributing to our activated state, we can make some intelligent choices about which tools we need to unwind ourselves. 

As with all effective trauma recovery, the key is paying attention, saying present, and knowing what to look and listen for. 

Easy does it. None of this is fun and none of this is a “choice.” 

The “choice” we have is whether to be realistic about our vulnerabilities, or nah. 

drglenndoyle

Recovery requires reality based relationships.

One of the main things that makes safe people safe, is that they won’t lose their sh*t when we try to take care of ourselves. 

When we set boundaries. 

When we confront them about an aspect of their behavior. 

Unsafe people tend to weaponize the fact that we trauma survivors can get triggered by anger and other reactivity. 

They tend to use that fact to, literally, scare us into not standing up for ourselves, sometimes in the most basic ways. 

Contrary to what you may have been conditioned to believe, every safe relationship involves boundaries. Including the most warm, loving, communicative relationships. 

Contrary to what you may have been conditioned to believe, every safe relationship at some point involves confrontation— which, contrary to what you may have been conditioned to believe, doesn’t have to be aggressive or relationship damaging. 

Safe people get all that. 

A certain amount of anxiety when we’re standing up for ourselves is normal, especially if we’ve had experiences in the past when standing up for ourselves didn’t go so well.

But if someone is safe, really safe, they won’t weaponize that anxiety to get us to back down. 

One of the staggering realizations many survivors make when we finally start seriously working our recovery is the fact that many of us haven’t experienced much safety, at all, in our relationships growing up. 

That realization sucks. 

And, as we get further into recovery, that realization is increasingly undeniable. 

The fact that we had to make do with unsafe relationships is actually part of what makes complex trauma complex. 

That’s where trauma bonds become a way of life. 

That’s where we get into blaming ourselves for the fact that we never feel truly safe. 

It’s not your fault if all you had growing up was unsafe relationships. It’s not your fault if most of your relationships now are unsafe. 

(Another staggering realization many of us make in recovery is the fact that many of the “choices” we thought we were making along the way actually weren’t all that “free”— but that’s a topic for another time.) 

Recovery asks us to be unflinchingly real about the safety, or lack thereof, of our relationships with others. 

Recovery also asks us to reshape our relationship with ourselves to make it safer— and that means no trying to control our own behavior through shame or punishment.

Broadly, recovery asks us to give up lots of illusions that we thought were reality. 

That may be the toughest ask it makes of us. 

Easy does it. Breathe, blink, focus. 

You can figure this out— one day at at a time. 

drglenndoyle

Welcome to the sh*t show.

If you haven’t noticed, many moments in trauma recovery are what we sophisticated clinicians call a “sh*t show.” 

We get hit with triggers we didn’t anticipate— or didn’t even know were triggers. 

We have reactions we don’t understand, and we can’t shake out of for hours or days (or longer). 

And then we very often blame ourselves for getting triggered and having reactions— because we’ve been conditioned to believe that everything is our fault, and everything is our responsibility. 

It’s no fun. Anyone who thinks that survivors are out here trying to “opt in” to trauma survivorship because trauma is “trendy” or they want “attention” really doesn’t get how much it sucks to be in this club. 

I wish I could tell you that trauma recovery was a smooth, clockwork like process once you get the hang of it— but it often isn’t. 

Sh*t shows gonna sh*t show— again, as we sophisticated clinicians say. 

The name of the game when we’re down the rabbit hole of the trauma sh*t show is doing what we can, with the tools we have, to be as safe and stable as we can manage in this moment. 

It rarely goes perfectly. It’s rarely cinematic. 

And we trauma survivors can very easily get all up in our head about “failing” in this process, when we don’t apply our recovery tools or coping skills immediately or perfectly. 

Listen to me: f*ck “perfect.” 

This recovery thing is not about “perfection.” Ever. 

It is about getting through, and getting .01% better day by day. 

I know: our trauma conditioning tries to get us doubting and second guessing and hating ourselves with every move. And Trauma Brain’s voice in our head can sound INCREDIBLY convincing. 

But you are not “failing.” 

You are developing. You are learning. 

You and I are works in progress in this whole “recovery” thing. 

Years into my own recovery, I am a work in progress. Me, whose personal and professional identity is wrapped up in recovery— I am still, still, STILL a work in progress, muddling though one day at a time. 

It’s okay. 

Recovery is a sh*t show for everyone, not just you. 

You just work it one day at a time. 

You just pay attention to you self talk, your mental focus, and your physiology. 

You just focus on asking Recovery Supporting Questions and developing Recovery Supporting Rituals. 

You just breathe, blink, and focus. 

The sh*t show’s gonna sh*t show. 

But you just do the next right thing. 

drglenndoyle

Gratitude.

You’re going to meet people in this trauma recovery process who will try to convince you that “gratitude” is kind of a “cheat code” to recovery. 

I’ve never believed that. 

Especially on days like today, you’re going to hear a lot about gratitude. 

On days like today, the culture is not particularly sensitive to people whose life experiences, especially their family experiences, have been painful or complicated. 

You may or may not feel like you have a lot to be “thankful” for today— and that’s okay. 

Acknowledging how painful or complicated your life has been does not make you “ungrateful.” 

My father, a narcissistic addict, frequently weaponized the word “gratitude” against me. 

To this day my trauma conditioning comes at me, telling me that I am not sufficiently “grateful.” 

I’ll tell you right now that I am overwhelming grateful— but maybe not for the things the culture tells me I “should” be. 

I am grateful I survived— though I wasn’t always. 

Some days I was quite ambivalent about the fact that I was still alive. 

Today I am grateful for recovery— but that has nothing to do with my family of origin. 

I am overwhelmingly grateful for some of the books and music I stumbled across that saved my life. 

I am overwhelmingly grateful for the Siamese cat that overwhelmingly enhanced my life for thirteen years— and that her passing last April was as peaceful as I could have asked for. 

I am overwhelmingly grateful for a little orange kitten who has held my grieving heart as tenderly as I could ever hope for, and for the life saving songwriters who are his namesake. 

I am overwhelmingly grateful for the humans whose voices I am listening to as I am writing this. A writer and an artist and a dancer and an adventurer who allow me the privilege of being in their lives. 

I am grateful to be sober today. 

I am grateful I did not believe trauma’s lies about whether I deserve to live. 

I am grateful I can write. That I have this platform. That my words reach even one person, let alone as many as they do. 

Believe me, I’m plenty grateful. 

But I don’t tell anyone the “have” to be grateful— or anything else, for that matter. 

Gratitude might be a tool in your recovery— or it might not. You get to decide that. 

No one gets to tell you you “have’ to be grateful, or anything else, to “deserve” recovery. 

Your mileage will vary when it comes to how useful a tool gratitude is or isn’t in your recovery. 

Don’t get up in your head about it. Really. 

Today is a day in recovery. No more; no less. 

If you are reading this, I am grateful for you. 

Yes, you. Person reading this who thinks I’m not talking about you. 

I am. 

drglenndoyle

Talk to your (past) self.

A trauma recovery tool I get a lot of mileage out of is having conversations, almost every day, with my past self. 

That past version of myself that I still carry around in my head and my heart. 

For a long time I didn’t realize I was still carrying him around with me. 

I didn’t realize his pain was impacting how I feel and function every day. 

I thought I’d left him, the “me” whose main experience of existence was aloneness and defensiveness, behind. After all, I was no longer that age; I no longer lived there; I no longer had contact with many of the people who hurt me. 

But, as it turns out, we never quite leave the past versions of ourselves behind. 

They’re still here, with us, here and now. 

Our choice is not whether to leave the past version of us in the past. 

Our choice is how we interact with that version of ourselves, here and now. 

We can try to ignore that past version of ourselves, but if we do that, a huge chunk of our feelings and motivations are going to remain mysterious— and inaccessible— to us. 

The backbone of realistic CPTSD recovery is our relationship with ourselves. 

The damage CPTSD inflicts is on that relationship. 

CPTSD tricks and bullies us into relating to ourselves, especially our past self, with condescension and aggression. 

CPTSD tricks and bullies us into hating and blaming our past self for our own pain. 

The past version of ourselves is with us day in, day out— and we need to choose how, not if, we’re going to relate to them. How we’re going to talk to them. 

Don’t get me wrong: there are plenty of things past-me did that I don’t love. There were plenty of cringey moments. Plenty of unkind moments. Plenty of not-courageous moments. Plenty of moments where past-me lacked integrity and purpose. 

Doesn’t matter. Not anymore. 

Relating to my past self with compassion, patience, and realism has been, is, a game changer. 

Doing so explicitly in my journal gives me an opportunity not only to shape my relationship with myself, but to review how my relationship with myself has evolved since I chose recovery. 

Not every tool is for everybody. 

But talking to myself, especially my wounded past self, in written form is a tool I almost always find effective. 

It doesn’t solve all my problems— because no one tool solves all our problems. Solving all our problems is not what trauma recovery tools and strategies are for. 

But it makes many of my challenges more handle-able.

drglenndoyle

The body keeps the…well, you know.

CPTSD tends to be hell on our relationship with our body. 

Many CPTSD survivors even struggle to accurately imagine what their body looks like. 

Core to CPTSD is shame that seems to settle into every nook and cranny of every cell— and that can result in us feeling disconnected to or repulsed by our body, sometimes out of nowhere. 

There are lots of reasons why CPTSD scrambles our relationship with our physical body, bt one of the main reasons is, in order to survive complex trauma at all we had to psychologically distance ourselves from ourselves. 

CPTSD develops when traumatic stress is prolonged, functionally inescapable, and entwined in our relationships— meaning there is no actual, real world fleeing from the pain. 

So our nervous system has to invent ways we can escape, sort of— and consequently we end up floating out of or mentally rejecting our body. 

As with all CPTSD reactions, disconnection from or disgust with our body started out as a defense mechanism— a way for us to stay safe. Safer, anyway. 

But, as with all CPTSD reactions, the ultimate damage is in how our psychological defenses wormed their way into our belief systems and self-concept. 

For many CPTSD survivors, an added factor is chronic pain or complicated medical conditions. 

For some survivors it can feel as if their body, in addition to being something they hate or profoundly disidentify with, is literally trying to kill them. 

I’ve never met a CPTSD survivor who did not have at least a somewhat fraught relationship with their physical body. 

For many of us it ultimately leads back to blaming ourselves for what we endured— including subsequent trauma responses that are painful, confusing, and difficult to change. 

You need to know your body isn’t your enemy. 

You need to know that CPTSD is doing what CPTSD does— trying to turn you against yourself (and lying to you to get this to happen). 

You need to know there is nothing inherently shameful about your body— and there’s nothing that can happen or has happened to your body that YOU should be ashamed of. 

The backbone of realistic, sustainable trauma recovery is repairing our relationship with ourselves— and that includes our physical body. 

Your physical body, no matter what it looks like, no matter how it feels, does not deserve to be hated or punished. 

It deserves to be nurtured, soothed, and respected. 

Just like the rest of your person.