Tag: ptsd

Our feelings are not “the problem” in CPTSD.

Our feelings might be scary; or confusing; or overwhelming— but they are not the problem. 

The problem is what we have been taught to believe about our feelings. 

The problem is what we have been taught to do about our feelings. 

The problem is how we’ve been taught to deny, disown, belittle, or ignore our feelings. 

We do not have to love everything we feel. I certainly don’t love everything I feel. 

But we do have to accept what we feel— that is, we have to accept that what we’re feeling in this moment, is what we’re feeling in this moment. 

Even if our goal is to change our feelings, we have to start by accepting what we’re feeling now. 

Many of our feelings follow patterns that were laid down years ago. 

We do not ask for our feelings. 

Our feelings represent a complex interplay of things we perceive, things we believe, and things that are happening inside our nervous and endocrine systems. 

But our feelings do NOT make us a “good” or a “bad” person. 

Struggling to manage out feelings does NOT make us a “weak” or “immature” person. 

Struggling to understand our feelings does not make us an “immature” person. 

Why bother saying any of this at all? 

Because CPTSD survivors are often sold a bill of goods about what our feelings “mean.” 

CPTSD survivors often have the experience of other people misunderstanding or shaming us when we try to express our feelings. 

CPTSD survivors often have so much trouble regulating how we feel— which is also not our fault— that we get into the habit of dissociating our feelings instead of listening to them. 

Realistically recovering from CPTSD is going to ask us to take our feelings seriously. 

Realistically recovering from CPTSD is going to ask us to engage with and relate to or feelings in ways that the culture sometimes does not understand or endorse. 

The culture, if you haven’t noticed, is big on “f*ck your feelings” right now. 

Turns out: that f*ck your feelings attitude which some people are so big on glorifying, sis an excellent way to wind up dysrgulated and overwhelmed. 

Our feelings are not the problem. They never were. 

Our trauma was the problem. 

The things we “learned” from our trauma was the problem. 

And the solution, if we want CPTSD recovery to stick, is not to double down on the disdain for our feelings espoused by the culture or our abusers. 

Our feelings are valid. 

Our feelings are valuable. 

Our feelings are not harmful. 

And our feelings are realistically manageable— if we commit to accepting them first. 

Our trauma programming often pulls this maneuver where it tells us that the things we do right or well are “random”— but the things we struggle with represent the “real” us.

You know this move? 

Trauma survivors often struggle with the distortion cognitive therapists call the “mental filter,” meaning we tell ourselves that all the bad stuff about us “counts,” but the good stuff “doesn’t count.” 

It’s as if we go out of the way to filter out of our experience anything that might possibly build our self esteem or support us in our recovery— but we cheerfully usher in anything that makes us feel like garbage or “confirms” our negative self image. 

The b*tch of it all is, it all feels very real. 

When it’s happening, we don’t realize we’re doing it. 

All we know is, it FEELS very right to brush off potential positives— and it FEELS very accurate to accept negatives about ourselves as “obviously” true. 

Here’s the thing: feelings aren’t facts. Not in this case, anyway. 

You might have heard the term “emotional reasoning” at some point in your recovery journey. It refers to another cognitive distortion, wherein we assume that things that FEEL true are “of course” true…when the reality is, how true something FEELS is not a reliable indicator of how true it ACTUALLY is. 

I know, I know. It can be hard to accept that something we FEEL is very true, something that SEEMS very true in our head, may not be true— but this is part of what trauma conditioning does to us. It warps our sense of perspective when it comes to evaluating truth, especially the it comes to judging ourselves. 

Understand: I’m NOT saying that we need to go through the world constantly doubting or questioning our gut. Our gut, what we instinctively feel makes sense, is a super important and valid source of information, especially about what we need and what’s going on inside us. 

Absolutely pay attention to your gut. 

And also: be crystal clear that trauma has brainwashed you and me to be harder on ourselves that is realistic or necessary. 

Be real about the fact that trauma conditioning will absolutely have us filtering out things we do well or right, telling us that our strengths and successes “aren’t real” or “don’t count”— not because that’s the truth, but because CPTSD does NOT want us building self esteem. 

We are not vulnerable to mental filter and emotional reasoning distortions because we’re “stupid.” 

We’re vulnerable to them because we’ve been conditioned. Programmed. Brainwashed. 

I know people don’t love to hear that, but it’s the reality of CPTSD. 

And unless we’re willing to see our trauma programming for what it is and what it does— especially how it mangles our beliefs about ourselves and our worth— realistic trauma recovery is going to be a pipe dream. 

Reality and recovery require us to be realistic and compassionate with ourselves— including (especially!) when our trauma condoning says we do nothing but suck and fail. 

Yes, you struggle. But that doesn’t mean you “only” suck and fail. That’s the mental filter and emotional reasoning distortions tag teaming you, enabled by CPTSD programming. 

Easy does it. Just start noticing when it’s happening. That’s the first step. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

Our CPTSD programming not only makes us feel like sh*t— it often makes us feel incoherent. 

We try to explain what we’re experiencing to others, friends, a therapist, whomever— but it just doesn’t come out right. 

No matter the words we use, or how many words we use, we just…can’t…explain it the way it actually feels. The way it actually is. 

Then…the shame sets in. 

We don’t quite understand why we can’t express ourselves— but we know we feel embarrassed about it. 

Turns out, that’s part of our trauma programming, too. 

Trauma conditioning is real good at convincing us that EVERYTHING is our fault, and EVERYTHING is our responsibility. 

At some point we just kind of give up trying. 

Nobody is going to understand or care about our experience anyway— so we tell ourselves— so why bother? 

You need to know: you are not as “incoherent” as Trauma Brain wants you to believe you are. 

Remember that Trauma Brain not only wants you miserable, it also wants you silent. 

CPTSD does NOT want you reaching out. It does NOT want you expressing yourself. 

CPTSD wants you alone, hating yourself, convinced that no one can relate and no one cares. 

So— it floods you with shame for even TRYING to express yourself. 

It convinces you you can’t express yourself well. 

It convinces you what you have to say doesn’t matter. 

Listen to me: that’s bullsh*t. 

You can express yourself. 

What you have to say matters. 

If I believed Trauma Brain’s bullsh*t, I wouldn’t be writing these words, and you wouldn’t be reading these words. 

Keep trying to express yourself. 

It’s true that not everyone will be able to keep up or appreciate your story or know how to respond— but that’s a them issue. Not a you issue. 

You are not “incoherent.” 

You are smart, you are articulate, and your words are key to your trauma recovery. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

What “they” often don’t understand is, the damage CPTSD does isn’t limited to “back then.” 

Even if the abuse ended long ago, survivors have been taking hits every day since. 

Put another way: trying to function and live life with CPTSD is, itself, a complex trauma. 

Living with CPTSD checks all the boxes of what makes for a complex trauma: it happens over time; it is functionally inescapable; and it definitely entwines with our most important relationships. 

CPTSD survivors are often shamed for “still” being “hung up on” things that happened “so long ago.” 

What the world doesn’t understand is that our pain today isn’t entirely, or even mostly, about what happened then. 

Our pain today is focused on our struggles handling today— which is a struggle we’ve been enduring every day since what happened happened “so long ago.” 

What happened then was painful. 

But also painful are the opportunities we’ve missed— or f*cked up— in the years since, due to or trauma symptoms and struggles. 

The relationships we’ve lost. 

Hell, the SLEEP we’ve lost. 

The world doesn’t understand that, while, yes, we did demonstrably survive our trauma, it is still a very open f*ckng question whether we all survive our recovery. 

There is a myth that we just need to “process” the initial trauma we endured in order to recover from it. 

Trauma processing certainly can be a part of our recovery blueprint— but to actually recover from CPTSD, we need to understand that our CPTSD is not entirely about our original trauma. 

It’s often said that pain becomes trauma when we endure it alone. 

So, so, so many CPTSD survivors have been enduring their pain alone— year, after year, after year. 

So many CPTSD survivors have felt unsafe even trying to describe what we’ve been carrying all this time— often because w know we’re going to get sh*t to the tune of, “but that was so LONG ago— you’re still hung up on THAT?” 

So— we keep it to ourselves. 

Which is exactly how CPTSD deepens. In silence. In isolation. 

This is how CPTSD becomes so much a part our daily life that we often actually mistake CPTSD for our personality. (Also why CPTSD is frequently misdiagnosed as a “personality disorder.”) 

CPTSD is not about “back then.” Not entirely. 

CPTSD is also about the long term complex trauma of living with CPTSD— often having no idea this isn’t normal or how things will be forever. 

The good news is: understanding the nature of our trauma— all our trauma, original and subsequent— is the first step to realistic, sustainable recovery. 

You can do this. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

CPTSD f*cks up our executive functioning— our decision making. Literally, our ability to execute the tasks that comprise our life. 

But many survivors don’t know it’s trauma f*cking with us. 

We assume we just suck at decision making. 

Often we assume we’e “stupid”— because that’s frequently the language our bullies and abuses used, isn’t it? 

“Stupid,” “lazy,” “selfish.” All gems that frequently showed up in how we were talked to growing up. 

What many survives have in common is the experience of feeling that EVERYTHING is our fault and EVERYTHING is our responsibility. 

If something’s gone wrong, it “must” be because we made a “bad” decision. 

If we’re struggling, it “must” be because we somehow chose or set ourselves up to struggle. 

The truth is, trauma often gets in our head and distorts our perceptions, beliefs, and priorities. 

Which, yes, results in us making decisions we don’t love— but many of those decisions aren’t exactly “free.” 

How can a decision be “free” when our sympathetic nervous system is lit up like a Christmas tree? 

Many not-so-awesome decisions we make often boil down to, our “fight” or “fawn” trauma responses were activated. 

When we’re triggered, we end up doing things that are not aligned with our goals our values— not because we’re exactly “choosing” those things, but because some part of us thinks we NEED to do those things to SURVIVE. 

I’ve said it a thousand times: we are not ourselves when we’re triggered. We become who we think we need to be to survive. 

We do not “choose” trauma responses— including those trauma responses that can look like “choices” from the outside. 

Many of us don’t like to admit that CPTSD impairs our executive functioning. It makes us feel powerless. 

We want to believe that we have the “freedom” to choose, at all times. 

We might have the “freedom” to choose— but when our brain is awash in stress chemicals and our nervous system is on fire having been triggered, we may simply not have the ABILITY to choose in that moment. 

It’s okay. You’re working on it. 

First thing’s first: pay attention to how trauma and triggers distort your executive functioning. Your decision making ability. 

You’re definitely not alone. 

(Ask me how I, personally, know.) 

Breathe; blink; focus.