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

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

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. 

drglenndoyle

They don’t get it– and that doesn’t matter.

They’re going to tell you to “suck it up.” 

They don’t get it. 

They’re going to question whether it was actually “trauma.” 

They don’t get it. 

They’re going to roll their eyes at some things you express. 

They don’t get it. 

They’re going to be impatient with some things you need. 

They don’t get it. 

They’re going to tell you you need “tough love.” 

They don’t get it. 

They’re going to tell you “everyone has trauma.” 

They don’t get it. 

They’re going to tell you trauma is not an “excuse” for under functioning. 

They don’t get it. 

Not only do they not get it— they don’t realize that all that stupid sh*t they say to minimize or belittle, is all sh*t we’ve said to ourselves. 

If that sh*t worked, it would have worked by now. 

But it doesn’t, because it fundamentally misunderstands post traumatic and dissociative injuries. 

We who struggle with post traumatic an dissociative injuries, and who work our recovery one day at a time? We are not looking for “excuses.” 

We are seeking— creating, actually— workable ways of existing in the world, DESPITE what we’ve endured and what we are enduring. 

We don’t love our trauma any more than you love hearing about our trauma. 

And, for what it’s worth, our recovery isn’t actually about our trauma. 

Our recovery is about our values. 

Our hopes. 

Our personhood. 

Our recovery is about putting our trauma in its appropriate place in our life story— not minimized, not exaggerated. 

They don’t get it.

Why would they? 

Don’t attach your self-esteem to what they do or don’t get. 

Our recovery is not predicated on ANYONE getting it. 

Especially not anyone who leads with dumbass statements like “suck it up.”

drglenndoyle

Trauma and that knee jerk “are you criticizing me?” thing.

A super common, frequently misunderstood complex trauma symptom is, we survivors find it super easy to feel criticized. 

It’s this nifty trick Trauma Brain plays, where it takes objectively neutral statements, and tries to tell us that we personally are being attacked or criticized.

Then it tells us we need to haul out our “fight” response, because the best defense is a good offense, right? 

Mind you, we come by this habit honestly. 

Many of us, like me, were raised by emotionally abusive narcissists, who never tired of finding was, subtle and not so subtle, to criticize us. 

It makes a lot of sense that we’d develop the habit of inferring shade, even when no shade (or any intentionality at all) is present. 

Want to know how “crazy” this can all feel? Trauma Brain gets me defensive when YouTube videos have provocative titles. “What, you think you know me, online platform that has zero stake in my behavior other than me clicking on the next video? Well, f*ck you!” 

What’s happening when we sniff out “criticism” is, we’re being nudged (or plunged) into emotional flashback. 

It’s that “in trouble” trigger that’s the fulcrum. 

Many of us were raised with such shaky or nonexistent self-esteem, that we instinctively understand criticism— real or imagined— as the “obvious” precursor to abandonment or punishment. 

Again: we don’t make this up for the hell of it. This reflects what we were raised with and in. 

That is to say: we may feel “crazy”— emotional flashbacks are incredible at making us feel that way— but we’re not. 

We’re actually responding the way injured, scared kids might respond. 

Which is what we are on the inside, when emotional flashbacks  occur. 

Soothing ourselves when the “in trouble” trigger gets tripped draws upon the basic trauma recovery tools we spend every day developing: self-talk, mental focus, and breathing/physiology. Creating safety on the inside of our head and heart with how we talk to ourselves, how we direct our attention, and how we breathe and otherwise use our body. 

You are not the first, last, or only trauma survivor to feel blindsided by “criticism” that, upon examination, may not actually be criticism (or even have all that much to do with you at all). 

You are not “crazy.” 

You are injured. 

And shame does not heal injuries. Compassionate care and time do. 

drglenndoyle

We only ever “let go” of the past in increments.

If there was a dramatic, one time “letting go” technique that let us “let go” of the past once and for all, believe me, I would tell you all about it.

I very much wish there was one. 

I very much wish “letting go of the past” was as easy as all those people who tell us to “let go of the past” seem to think it is. 

But— it’s not. 

People who tell us to “let go of the past” don’t actually understand the injury of complex trauma. 

It’s not us who won’t “let go of the past.”

It’s the past that won’t let go of us. 

No survivor is out there right now voluntarily ruminating on the past. 

No trauma survivor is out there right now cheerfully cataloguing ways they’re going to “let” their past interfere with their attachments and relationships now. 

No survivor is out there right now gleefully anticipating how they’re going to “let” their past make them anxious, tense, and inexplicably angry around their superiors at work. 

That is: no survivor “hangs on” to the past. 

Those who have survived complex trauma find ourselves impacted by the past— and in trauma recovery, we intentionally set out to learn how we were impacted, and crafting daly habits of self-talk and mental focus to negate that impact. 

People don’t understand: complex trauma, by definition, unfolds over time. 

That means that complex traumatic stressors had hundreds of opportunities to make a dent in our nervous system. Hundreds of opportunities to condition and program us, over years. 

That conditioning doesn’t just disappear with a one time “decision” to “let go of the past.” 

Trauma recovery is about daily reconditioning and reprogramming— first and foremost, of our beliefs about and behavior toward ourselves. 

That’s a day by day by day task. Not a dramatic, one time thing. 

That’s why I keep saying: recovery is a lifestyle, not a goal. 

Recovery IS the overall tool we use to realistically craft a quality life. 

Don’t look for or hope for or bank on the dramatic “letting go” moment where you can leave all this behind. 

Instead, focus on the minute by minute micro choices, especially in how you talk to yourself; focus your attention (the sliver of attention you can influence, anyway); and utilize your physiology, especially your breathing. 

We let go of the past in increments— and those increments look like teeny, tiny changes in behavior. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma Brain’s insidious trick.

Our trauma conditioning is real good at screeching at us that we’ve “failed.” 

Trauma Brain, what I call the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, seems to find an endless variety of ways to inform us that we are a “failure.” 

Trauma Brain tells us we “fail” at relationships. 

Trauma Brain tells us we “fail” at managing our finances. 

Trauma Brain tells us we “fail” at managing our emotional reactions. 

Trauma Brain tells us we “fail” to make good choices. 

And on, and on, and on. 

To spoil the suspense: Trauma Brain will never tell us we’re good at something, or that we did something better than we expected to, or that our success at something was kind of a mixed bag. 

Through the magic of the cognitive distortions of black and white thinking, emotional reasoning, and mental filter, Trauma Brail will stay remarkably on message: that we are a “failure.” 

Here’s the thing: it is the case that trauma survivors experience tend to experience challenges and struggles with…well, everything Trauma Brain flatly declares us to have “failed” at. 

But you need to know that struggling is not the same as “failing.” 

Everybody who has ever succeeded or gotten better at dong a thing, has struggled with it. 

The fist step to actually being good at doing a thing is, well, sucking at it. 

One of Trauma Brain’s insidious tricks is trying to tell us that we’ve “failed” at something we’re struggling with— because the fact of our struggle seems to give its argument a germ of credibility. 

After all, most of us trauma survivors are VERY aware of the things at which we struggle. 

And if we weren’t aware, Trauma Brain is “helpfully” right there reminding us— often repeating not only the words of our bullies and abusers, but also amplifying the feedback we get from others around us who don’t understand why we can’t just get our sh*t together. 

An important step in our trauma recovery is gaining clarity about what’s actually happening when we supposedly “fail” at something that we imagine “most” adults don’t struggle with at all: we’re not, actually, “failing.” 

We are doing the thing as best we can, with the tools we have. 

We’ll get better at doing the thing the more tools we develop— and we develop new tools as we make it safe inside our head and heart to work on those tools without judgment or shame. 

Understanding this was a game change for my own recovery. 

It also felt like a risk. 

My father was an abusive, addicted narcissist who had created enormous wealth and material success in his life— and he, among others, strongly conditioned in me an abhorrence of “making excuses.” 

If I explained to my father the difference between “failing” and “struggling,” I am positive he would mock me for “making excuses.” 

I always assumed my dad was a wealthy man, because of his material success— but now I understand that he wasn’t particularly wealthy. Not really. 

He was just a guy with money. 

People who create real success, real wealth, understand the difference between “struggling” and “failing.” 

Yes, accepting that difference may feel like a risk, because Trauma Brain— who, in my case, often speaks in the voice of my father— will tell you you’re being a “loser” and setting yourself up for even more “failure” by “letting yourself off the hook.” 

But distinguishing between struggling and failing— properly understanding struggle as a necessary point in the developmental curve of building a skill— is not “letting yourself of the hook.” 

It’s not making excuses. 

It’s getting real about how skills are learned, tools are developed, recovery is shaped, and a successful life— even beyond trauma recovery— is built.