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? 

What self-acceptance is and isn’t in trauma recovery.

Why do we emphasize self-acceptance in trauma recovery? 

It’s not because we love where we are in life. 

It’s not even because we love WHO we are at this moment. 

If we’re working a trauma recovery, we by definition want to change both where and who we are. We don’t work a trauma recovery to stay the same. 

We emphasize acceptance in trauma recovery not because we don’t want to change, but because we DO want to REALISTICALLY change— and realistic change does not start with self-rejection or self-hate. 

If self-rejection or self-hate were successful or sustainable change strategies, most trauma survivors would have zero problems changing. 

But self-rejection and self hate are not— either sustainable or successful change strategies. 

Self-acceptance is not about approving of where or who we are. It’s about acknowledging that we are starting exactly where we’re starting. 

It means being realistic about what we’re up against. 

It means being realistic about our strengths and our vulnerabilities. 

But most of all, self-acceptance means we are not going to relate to ourselves like our bullies and abusers did. 

It means we are not going to try to influence our own behavior via shame and pressure— even if that’s what we were taught or what we experienced growing up. 

Many people new to the Twelve Step recovery tradition are confused by Step One, which emphasizes not only acceptance, but powerlessness. 

How on earth are we supposed to recover, if the price of admission to recovery is “accepting” that we are “powerless” over our problem? 

That’s the thing: we are not accepting that we are “powerless” OVER our problem. 

We are accepting that we are powerless over the fact that this is exactly where we are right now. 

That things are exactly as bad as they are, right now. 

That the past happened exactly the way the past happened. We are powerless over that. 

We are NOT “powerless” over our next micro choice. 

We are not required to “accept” the lie that Trauma Brain keeps trying to tell us— that we don’t “deserve” a different life, or that it’s just “too hard” to recover from trauma. 

Self-acceptance is a starting point that, most importantly, differentiates us from our abusers and bullies. 

It’s not where we stay or where we end. 

It’s one necessary, important tool, especially in early recovery— but one tool does not a strategy make. 

The recovery STRATEGY is to accept where we are so we can maximize our chances of realistically CHANGING. 

Why are trauma survivors so hard on ourselves?

Why is it so hard for trauma survivors to give ourselves a break? 

Why is our first instinct always, always, always to beat the sh*t out of ourselves? 

It’s not because we love it. 

It’s usually because we’ve been CONDITIONED to do it— and to be afraid of what would happen if we didn’t do it. 

Our self-aggression very often happens so instinctively, so reflexively, that we don’t even know we’re doing it much of the time. 

Many of my patients tell me they don’t even realize how hard they’re being on themselves until I have them track their self talk for a day, or even a couple hours. 

But even after we realize how hard we’re being on ourselves, we get anxious when we think of NOT being so mean to ourselves. 

We get to thinking that we “need” to be hard on ourselves— or else we won’t be “motivated.” 

We get to thinking not being so hard on ourselves will result in us getting “soft.” 

We get to thinking we “have” to be so hard on ourselves, because “self-compassion” is this touchy feely concept that isn’t REALLY important— that “real” adults talk to themselves harshly. 

“That’s just the way it is,” we tell ourselves. 

We might even tell ourselves that OTHER people might “deserve” more compassionate treatment— but not us. 

We deserve the “tough love,” maybe minus the love. 

That’s what our conditioning tells us. And most CPTSD survivors have been conditioned, over and over, year after year, to talk to ourselves in very specific, very harsh ways. 

If we stay on autopilot, we don’t stand a chance against that conditioning. That programming. 

The good news is, we don’t have to stay on autopilot. 

The bad news, or mixed news, anyway, is that going off autopilot is a b*tch. 

It’s tiring. It’s annoying. It’s a distraction from the other sh*t we have to do in our life, like work, raising kids, and caring for pets. 

Our brain will keep trying to drag us back to our old conditioning, our old programming, because that’s the pattern it knows. That’s the pattern that is etched into our nervous system. That’s the path of least resistance. 

Working our recovery means turning away from that familiar path of least resistance. 

That’s why I say trauma recovery requires courage and determination and focus that most non-survivors can’t even fathom. 

We can change our habitual self talk, as surely as we can unlearn any old way of being and learn any new way of being. Humans unlearn and learn new patterns every day, every year. 

Once upon a time it was the most natural, normal pattern to go to the bathroom in our diapers. In order to learn to use the actual toilet, we had to change everything that was “natural” to us once upon a time through repeated practice. 

Changing our brain in trauma recovery is no different. 

We’re just a little older now, and saddled with more BS— Belief Systems— than we were then. 

Does recovery “have” to be the most important thing ?

Something that was, and is, hard for me to wrap my head around in my own trauma and addiction recovery is, recovery simultaneously does and does not have to be the most important thing in my life at any given time. 

Many survivors struggle with recovery because it feels like this overwhelming, all consuming project— and it surely is. 

Done right, trauma and/or addiction recovery will absolutely touch and inform everything and anything we do. 

We do not get days— or even hours— “off” from being survivors and/or addicts in recovery. 

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it hundreds of times: trauma and addiction recovery aren’t just about trauma and/or addiction: recovery is actually about succeeding in life. 

It’s about self awareness. And time management. And goal setting. And self-care. You know, those things that every truly successful human being in the history of the species has more or less figured out. 

So, yes— the tools we develop to recover from trauma and/or addiction will and do absolutely serve us in everything we do, whether or not it’s directly related to our recovery proper. 

That said: I, and probably you, have things we want to do in our lives that have nothing to do with recovery. 

We have goals that go beyond safety and stability and sobriety. 

We have, or want, relationships that do not always revolve around recovery. 

We want to create times and spaces in which we can functionally forget that this big project called “recovery” is even a thing. 

And all that is legit. 

Make no mistake: I do not recommend trying to “forget” you’re a survivor or addict in recovery. That’s not going to end well. (Ask me how I know.) 

But I understand wanting and needing projects in your life that do not center recovery. 

Here’s the thing: I believe we do recovery specifically so that we DON’T have to focus on trauma or addiction 24/7. 

We’re not doing recovery just to do recovery. 

We’re doing recovery because we want to live. 

And the irony about that is, the more we prioritize recovery, the greater our opportunities to live actually are. 

Here’s the way I’ve come to think of it: recovery does not have to be the subject of your every waking thought. 

Recovery does, however, need to become the lens through which we see the world. 

All the other stuff in our life, all our other goals, all our decisions about time and energy management— we have to see them all in the context of recovery. 

Think of recovery as a project, yes— but maybe more importantly, as a tool. 

A master key. 

A key that will allow doors to open to us that do not have to do with the key, per se— but which, without the key, would remain closed to us. 

So— do we have to think about recovery every day? Yes— but only in the way that we “have” to think about any philosophical lens through which we see the world every day.

Recovery does have to be a non-negotiable in our life. We will surely die if we kid ourselves about that. 

And also: our trauma and addiction recovery does not have to become our identity. 

It becomes the TOOL through which we can safely and authentically express and explore our identity. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.