drglenndoyle

Welcome to the sh*t show; we got fun and games.

So what do we actually do if the last day, or the last hour, was a sh*t show? 

Because sh*t shows happen, don’t they? 

Maybe we relapse. Maybe we self-harm. Maybe we get sucked into a shame spiral. 

It happens. Not “maybe;” this is the real world, and the sh*t show sometimes wins for a minute or two. 

First thing’s first, it’s not evidence you can’t do recovery. 


The sh*t show is actually part of recovery. Or dealing with it is, at any rate. 

Come on: how realistic was it ever going to be that you committed to trauma recovery, then everything was perfect or easy? 

That was never going to happen. 

You and I have been immersed in our trauma conditioning for years. Decades, most of us. 

That’s years and years of Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, beating the sh*t out of us in our head. 

That’s years and years of neither our head nor our heart being truly safe for our “parts” or inner child. 

That was never going to go away all at once. 

The more realistic situation was always going to be reconditioning ourselves, one day, one hour, one decision— one MICRO decision— at a time. 

Which means we’re going to have rough moments. Moments where the sh*t show pops up for a return engagement. 

That actually doesn’t matter to our overall recovery arc. 

You know what does matter, though? How we respond. 

How we understand that rough moment. 

How we talk to ourselves during and after the sh*t show. 

How we direct our mental focus, or at last that sliver of mental focus we can influence, when the sh*t show pops up. 

What we do with our breathing and body in those rough moments. 

Those patterns really, really matter to our recovery arc. Those patterns CREATE our recovery arc, actually. 

Trauma responses are not “choices.” 

What realistic trauma recovery is all about are the choices we make when we realize what’s going on, and we actually have some options again.

That is to say: don’t overreact to the sh*t show. Don’t panic. Don’t get discouraged. 

Don’t amplify or prolong the sh*t show with what you do next. 

Breathe; blink; focus; and remember who you are and what you’re all about. Remember your recovery blueprint and plan. Check your impulse scale. 

The sh*t show is not the end of recovery. It is part of recovery. 

Every survivor who has ever realistically recovered from trauma has gotten slapped with the sh*t show. 

And every survivor who has ever recovered from trauma has learned how to respond to it by doing the next right thing, with compassion, patience, and realism. 

Easy does it. 

drglenndoyle

Your pain matters, too– not just your trauma.

There are going to be things that cause us pain, that aren’t directly related to what we consider our “trauma.” 

Those things can be easy to overlook or minimize. 

We can fall into the trap of believing that, because these pain points aren’t the ones we’re “working on” in our trauma recovery, that they don’t “count.” That they can wait. 

I’m going to tell you that all of your pain points, matter. 

I’m also going to tell you that a significant part of this trauma recovery process is about respecting your pain and your needs, regardless of their origin. 

Yes, recovery from trauma often involves processing the specific pain from identifiable moments in our past. 

But just as often, it is about healing and developing our relationship with ourselves, day to day, minute to minute— and that task often doesn’t directly involve engaging our past. Not consciously, anyway. 

Part of developing our relationship with ourselves is taking our pain seriously. 

That can be hard, when we don’t even understand or pain, or have trouble putting words to our pain. 

We survivors like to feel in “control.” We like being able to draw nice, straight lines between our past trauma and our current pain and needs. 

When we can’t do that, we get squirrely. And when we get squirrely, we get avoidant. 

And when we get avoidant, trauma recovery stalls. Every time. 

For my money, self-care is the backbone of realistic trauma recovery. 

I know, I know, a lot of people think the term “self care,” alongside the term “trigger,” is overused— but whether or not the term “self care” is actually overused, I can tell you it is definitely under-PRACTICED. 

The kind of self care that is the foundation of realstic trauma recovery means doing what we need to do every day to minimize and resolve pain points in our life— that is, attending to and developing our actual quality of life. 

Put another way: pain in your life that is not directly related to the events and relationships that evoked your CPTSD is STILL valid, still deserves attention and care and self-compassion.

You are not taking away from your trauma recovery by attending to those pain points. 

To the contrary: every time you take care of yourself, every time you do something concrete to feel less pain and more lasting, authentic pleasure in your life, you are working your recovery. 

I’ve said it before: so much of real world trauma recovery doesn’t even involve engaging with our trauma feelings or memories. 

But it ALWAYS involves treating our relationship with ourselves as the most important bond we have— and a relationship that absolutely must be nurtured and protected at every opportunity. 

drglenndoyle

Go ahead. Hear some voices.

On today’s edition of Realistic Sustainable Trauma Recovery, I’m going to ask you to hear voices. 

But not just any voices. 

Certainly not the voices you’re used to hearing in your head— the voices of your abuses and bullies, which I call Trauma Brain. 

No, you’ve head those voices enough. On repeat, for years. So much so that you might not even realize those voices are still coming at you, every day, every hour. 

Instead, I want you to install some voices to listen to. 

I want you to hear the voices of mentors. 

I want you to hear the voices of guides. 

I want you to hear the voices of therapists who have had helpful things to say. 

(Maybe not the voices of therapists who let you down or made you feel worse.)

The voices you hear don’t have to be “real” people or entities. They can be fictional characters, figures from mythology, or other people or entities that don’t have “real” voices in the “real” world. 

Maybe the voices you need are voices from historical figures. Once upon a time I was way, way into presidential history, and I got a lot of mileage out of communing with presidents from decades ago. 

Maybe the voices you need are figures from your spiritual tradition that are no longer physically here. Many people describe “hearing” the voices of saints or evangelists that offer them hope and guidance. 

Maybe I’m even one of your voices. Chances are, if you’re reading this, you probably know my toolbox and worldview well enough to guess at what I might tell you in a given situation.

Whoever your “voices” are, I want you to feel safe with them. 

Whoever they are, I want them to evoke in you feelings of realistic hope and measurable calm. 

You remember a few years ago when “What Would Jesus Do” bracelets were all the rage? I’m asking you to think similarly— only your mantra is going to be, “What Would (Insert Your Inspiring or Comforting Mentor Here) Say?” 

Have them mentally on your shoulder. 

Have them mentally in your ear. 

Have them handy, to turn to when Trauma Brain wants to steamroll you with old voices saying old sh*t that only results in you feeling like garbage. 

Think of your “voices” as your cheering section, your support crew, your advisory committee. 

We are talking to ourselves all day, every day, in our heads— and we’re often doing so in “voices” that aren’t quite ours. 

There’s no reason those voices should be voices we find painful. 

Choose who you want in your cheering section. Choose who you want having your back. 

Then, practice “hearing” them in daily situations. Get good at listening for them on purpose. 

This is how we reprogram trauma conditioning. 

This is how we choose something other than our old, default tapes. 

drglenndoyle

So we’re vulnerable. And?

You are vulnerable. So am I.

We don’t have to love it. I don’t. 

But we do have to accept it. We do have to be realistic about it. 

Maybe you and I are not vulnerable in the same ways we were back then— or, maybe we are. 

We want to imagine that growing up negates our vulnerability, but it doesn’t. Not totally. 

Personally, I’ve come to understand that far more and bigger problems are created by denying our vulnerability than the fact of our vulnerability. 

If we deny and disown our vulnerability, we cannot manage it. 

If we deny and disown our vulnerability, we cannot realistically reduce it. 

After all, are we going to manage or reduce something we don’t even acknowledge? No, we’re not. 

Accepting the fact of our vulnerability doesn’t mean liking it. It doesn’t mean just letting it exist without trying to change it. 

It’s not good to wander around out there with our vulnerability on full display. 

It’s also not good to pretend we’re invulnerable. 

You are not from Krypton. 

(And even if you were,  you’d be vulnerable to Kryptonite and magic.)

So we’re vulnerable. And? 

It’s not our fault or failing that we’re vulnerable. Vulnerability is the human condition. 

It’s also not our fault that some people habitually try to exploit our vulnerability. That’s always going to happen, and it has nothing to do with what we’re wearing (metaphorically or literally). 

We are more than our vulnerability, by the way. 

And our vulnerability is also key to our authenticity— which is key to our realistic trauma recovery. 

(Seriously: no one in the history of humanity has been able to be authentic without also being vulnerable. Vulnerability is kind of the price of admission to authenticity.) 

We are vulnerable. 

And the sooner we accept that fact— as well as what it does and doesn’t mean about our “character’— the sooner we can design a realistic recovery blueprint around it. 

drglenndoyle

Just notice.

As we work our trauma recovery, we get less attached to who we’ve had to be and what we’ve had to do to survive. And that can be bittersweet. 

It’s not that we necessarily “like” those patterns and coping mechanisms. Some of them we very much dislike, actually. 

But we feel somehow…loyal to them. 

After all, those patterns and coping mechanisms got us through some gnarly sh*t. 

It’s one reason why we can get more than a little defensive when people get on our case about our habits— it’s not that we necessarily like those habits either, but those people don’t understand how important those habits have been to us. 

Nor do those people often understand how afraid we are to give those patterns and coping mechanisms up.

You’re going to run into plenty of people who will try to tell you that giving up old patters that no longer serve us “should” be easy, or at last straightforward. 

After all, if it’s not serving us anymore, if it’s creating more problems than it solves, why are we hanging on to it? 

 Because loyalty. And more than a little bit of fear. 

The reality is, shifting away from old patterns and tools and habits is complicated. And we have to let it be complicated. 

It’s not going to work to try to shame or pressure ourselves out of those old patterns. 

What we can do is just notice as we start to be less attached to them. 

What we can do is meet our own complicated and bittersweet feelings with compassion and patience. Which, I know, isn’t always the biggest strength of us trauma survivors. 

Go easy on yourself. 

None of this “recovery” thing is particularly easy or obvious. And that very much applies to how we surrender old patterns. 

Just pay attention. Just notice. 

Just notice as those old patterns and coping mechanisms and habits feel less like you— day by day, hour by hour. 

No pressure. No rush. 

It’s a long walk back to Eden. Don’t sweat the small stuff. 

drglenndoyle

Don’t contort yourself. It’s not worth it.

Harming ourselves to conform to someone else’s expectations is never worth it. 

It never supports the safety we think it will. Not really. 

Contorting to fit someone else’s image of us does not make them like us. Not really, not authentically. 

It may make them temporarily like the role we’re playing for a minute— but if that role isn’t sustainable, we’re setting ourselves up for a bigger problem than we had. 

If you think people don’t like when you don’t conform to their expectations, wait till you see what they do when we signal that we’re one thing they like…then we revert to something they don’t like or understand. 

Roleplaying to try to get them to like us is just not worth it. 

It trashes our self-esteem, and for what? 

It communicates to our “parts” and inner child that we’re not acceptable or lovable as we are, and for what? 

I understand: of course we WANT “them” to like us. Hell, we want everyone to like us. Part of us really believes that if we can just figure that equation out, just push the right buttons in everybody around us to get them to like us, maybe, maybe, we’ll feel safe and secure. 

But we won’t. 

Because deep down we’ll know: that’s built on an illusion. An inauthentic, unsustainable illusion. 

Roleplaying to try to get them to like us actually increases our anxiety. 

It’s actually worse when it works for a minute. Then the stakes of the facade are even HIGHER. Then we have something to lose. 

F*ck all of this. 

You are working a trauma recovery that prioritizes authenticity and sustainability. You do not have the time or the bandwidth to play some role, to pretend to be someone, to contort yourself to fit into someone else’s “box.” 

You are valuable and lovable just as you are. 

Maybe not everybody can appreciate your value— which is true of anything of value, by the way, there are people who don’t appreciate its worth— but that does not mean their lack of appreciation means anything real. 

Don’t contort yourself. 

Don’t twist yourself into a pretzel trying to be “their” ideal anything. 

The only way to build a realistic, sustainable trauma recovery is by being you. 

That’s a harder truth than many people appreciate, but this is how it works. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Reality check.

The reality is: the feelings and memories aren’t suddenly going away. 

No matter how much we wish they would. No matter what we do. 

We can do things to make ourselves less vulnerable to them and we can do things to diminish their intensity— and, yes, we can process them so they don’t affect us the same way anymore. 

But they won’t suddenly go away because we want them to. 

So: we need to find a way to be with them. To coexist with them. 

We need to find a way to sit with and tolerate those feelings and memories, at last temporarily. 

That requires patience. That requires realism and compassion and the willingness to allow those feelings and memories to exist— to not demand they go away or not exist. 

It requires our willingness to not beat the sh*t out of ourselves for having those feelings and memories. Not that anybody reading this— or the person writing this— ever does that, right? 

Right? 

Among the things we want and need our trauma recovery to be, is realistic. And realistic trauma recovery does not indulge fantasies about sudden transformation. 

The changes we make in our nervous and endocrine systems in trauma recovery will take time. That’s the reality. 

No, we don’t love those feelings and reactions and memories. And we don’t have to love them. 

But we do have to accept that they exist. We do have to let them exist. 

And we do have to commit to not attacking, shaming, rejecting, or abandoning the “parts” of ourselves that hold those feelings and memories. 

I know— tall order. 

But welcome to trauma recovery. 

It always, always starts with acceptance. Accepting reality. Accepting what happened, happened. 

Accepting that we do not have a choice about whether or not we’re trauma survivors— but we do have a choice whether to work our trauma recovery with patience, self compassion, and realism. 

Those feelings and memories are not suddenly going away. 

But we can work with them— if we’re not too busy denying and disowning them, or punishing the “parts” of ourselves that hold them. 

drglenndoyle

Recovery takes the time it takes. And that’s the good news.

Oh, I get it: you are frustrated as f*ck with how long this trauma recovery thing is taking. 

That’s very normal— both for it to take the time it takes, and for survivors to be frustrated by it. 

The reason trauma recovery is taking so long is not because you’re doing it wrong. Or because  you’re “stupid.” Or because you’re “lazy.” Or because you’re “weak.” 

Trauma recovery takes the time it takes because it’s not a bullshit quick fix. 

Trauma recovery isn’t even a “fix,” per se. It’s not something that happens TO us, like our abuse or neglect were. 

Trauma recovery is a lifestyle. 

It’s a series of choices we make anew, every day. 

Choices about what? About how to talk to ourselves. 

About where to direct our mental focus, even in the small ways we can. (You are leveraging the tool of mental focus right now, by reading this— so you have at least SOME influence over it.)

About how to breathe and move and otherwise use our body. 

Getting realistic about trauma recovery means getting realistic about how trauma wounded us— and the reality is, trauma wounded us by conditioning us. By programming us. By driving certain beliefs and habits deep into our nervous system. 

That’s not the kind of damage we un-do quickly or easily. 

But it IS the kind of damage we CAN un-do— if we’re realistic about how that’s done, and consistent about using our recovery skills, tools, and philosophies. 

A trauma recovery SKILL is something we can do. 

A trauma recovery TOOL is something we can us. 

A trauma recovery PHILOSOPHY is an framework that informs how and when we use our skills and tools. 

We are making choices about self-talk, mental focus, and physiology all day, every day— and within those choices, we are either using or not using specific skills, tools, and philosophies to support our recovery. 

If, day by day, day after day, we use our trauma recovery skills, tools, and philosophies to guide our self talk, mental focus, and physiology, we WILL change our nervous system. 

That is to say: we WILL recover. 

The human nervous system is demonstrably plastic—changeable— and recovery is inevitable with the right blueprint. 

But it does to happen overnight. 

Thank goodness for that. 

Because I want your and my trauma recovery to stick. 

I want us to realistically, sustainably change our nervous systems— not just to feel better, but to function better. 

It takes the time it takes and it’s frustrating as f*ck. 

But the fact it takes the time it takes is also the good news. 

drglenndoyle

Their world is not necessarily the “real world”– or the world we need.

You are going to be told, over and over again, that you have to live in the “real world”— and that’s true enough. 

But when many people say that, what they often actually mean is, they want you to live in THEIR world. 

You know— the world in which they set the rules and expectations. 

The world in which they get to choose who is “normal” or not. 

The world in which they get to define what you “should” or “shouldn’t” focus on and do. 

That can be very different from living in the actual real world. 

Trauma survivors hear this kind of sh*t all the time— that our problem is we don’t live in the “real world.” 

My question, though, is which “real world” are we actually talking about? 

Because CPTSD survivors actually live in a world that acknowledges the reality of certain things that many people effortfully want and try to not know about. 

CPTSD survivors live in the world where emotional neglect does as much harm as nutritional or physical neglect. 

CPTSD survivors live in the world where mental, emotional, and financial abuse is as destructive as physical or sexual abuse. 

CPTSD survivors live in the world where “let it go” and “get over it” are not actual strategies for any kind of realistic trauma recovery. 

Is that the “real world” you had in mind? 

Or were you just looking for a way to blame survivors for our own pain? 

Here’s the real truth of what I believe: we will get f*cking skinned alive if we try to exist in “their” world. 

“Their” world is most often built on and shot through with denial. 

“Their” world is very frequently ableist on a good day. 

“Their” world is one in which superficial, dismissive advice like “leave the past in the past” is considered profound or actionable. 

No, I do not recommend living in “their” world— even if the try to shame you into believing it’s the only way to be living in the “real world.” 

I recommend creating and living in your own world— one that deeply acknowledges the realities that “their” world conveniently ignores. 

I recommend making your world that is neither “optimistic” nor “pessimistic”— but REALISTIC about the fact that recovery is a b*tch, requires effort and intelligence and tools and persistence…and is absolutely possible, for everyone reading these world. 

I recommend living in a world where YOU decide what is and isn’t “normal”— not somebody who has never walked a mile in your shoes (or walked a mile beside you on your journey, for that matter). 

In my experience, the world that WE create and develop in our trauma recovery journey is far more consistent with reality and recovery than anyone who condescendingly tells us we need to live in the “real world.” 

We create our world with our self-talk, our mental focus, and our physiology. I know I’m going to get sh*t for being “reductionistic,” like I always do when I say that, but it’s true. 

We are not powerless over the world we experience inside our head and heart. 

It’s true that CPTSD has a head start on designing that world— but we can take over the creative reins. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

So the world is unsafe. And?

The world isn’t perfectly safe, and it’s not going to be perfectly safe. 

The world should be safer, and we should work to make it safer— but it’s never going to be just “safe.” 

That can be really hard for our traumatized nervous system to accept. 

Especially when we’ve been hurt in the past, our nervous system is going to really, really want the world and people to be categorically safe before it engages with either. 

Which then often results in us avoiding both the world and other people.

I wish the world and other people were safe. 

One of the most important tasks we face in realistic trauma recovery is figuring out how we can get our nervous system and “parts”to stay present, even in the absence of safety. 

Because we can’t just nope out of the world, no matter how unsafe we feel. 

I know, I know. Noping out of this unsafe world sounds really, really appealing, especially when we’re nursing old wounds. 

But ultimately, avoidance goes nowhere. 

As seductive as it is, avoidance doesn’t just keep us stuck— it tends to sink us deeper into the quicksand the longer we try to use it as a “strategy.” 

It’s not your fault that avoidance appeals to you, by the way. It’s not you being a “coward” or “immature” or “irresponsible.” 

We avoid because we’ve been conditioned to believe we can’t handle life. 

We avoid because we haven’t had the tools or the support we need to handle life. 

We avoid because we have BS (Belief Systems) whispering in our ear that we can’t handle life. 

So: don’t kick yourself for avoiding. Of course you avoid. You’ve been hurt— that really happened to you, you’re not making it up for exaggerating it— and your system is now pressuring you to sit on the sidelines until safety is guaranteed. 

Your “parts” and inner child need to be validated and supported, not shamed or pressured. 

I truly wish comprehensive safety was possible in this world, in this lifetime. 

But realistic trauma recovery acknowledges that’s a fantasy. 

And realistic trauma recovery has us asking ouselves what we need to shake out of the “freeze” response elicited by the unsafety of this world. 

Usually that answer involves patience, willingness to take and validate baby steps, and radical self-compassion. 

Breathe; blink; focus.