drglenndoyle

Come for it all.

Come for everything they said you couldn’t have. 

You’ve hard that motivational phrase, right? I didn’t originate it, I’ve seen it quite a few places. 

But it has particular resonance for CPTSD survivors. 

We have very often been told we “can’t” have things. 

That we don’t “deserve” things. 

That we’ll have to give up our “victim mindset” and make better “choices” before we’ll even be supposedly eligible for those things. 

Now, don’t get me wrong: mindset certainly matters in trauma recovery, and I’m all for making better choices, always. 

But I’ve worked with hundreds of trauma survivors in recovery, and I can assure you: “mindset” and “choices” are not their— our— biggest problems in recovery. 

Some CPTSD survivors were told, when they leave painful relationships or situations, that we’ll “never make it” without our abusers and bullies. 

(No, really: some of us were literally told just that, in those words.) 

So, my advice is: come for it. 

Come for it all. 

Come for everything they said was out of your reach. 

Come for everything that you ever imagined was off the table for you. 

Don’t let shame stop you, don’t let fear top you, and abso-f*cking-lutely do not let the internalized voices of abusers and bullies from the past stop you. 

You are absolutely “eligible” for a better life. 

You’re honestly “eligible” for a much better life than you would probably have ever imagined, had you not been introduced to the trauma recovery paradigm. 

I would never, ever wish trauma on anyone, and I am emphatically not “grateful” for what you or I have endured. 

But truthfully, if I hadn’t had to save my own life by getting serious about trauma and addiction recovery, I probably would have slept on such basic tools as self talk, mental focus, and physiology for the rest of my life. 

I probably would have remained a random white dude with middling aspirations and moods I could not predict or influence, like most random white dudes. 

However: things unfolded as they did. 

And here I am. 

Coming for everything they said I couldn’t have. 

And here I am, recommending you aspire to do the same. 

They don’t get to choose or limit what we “get” to achieve. Or feel. Or become. 

Working our trauma recovery and building a life can be hard, and is often not straightforward. And we’re very often doing this functionally alone. 

There are no guarantees in recovery, or in life. 

But I can tell you this: if you’re reading this, you’ve very likely been sold a bill of goods about what you do and don’t “deserve.” 

And it’s most likely BS (Belief Systems—but also, you know, bullsh*t) 

Come for it. 

Come for everything they said you couldn’t have. 

We are not who they they think we are— we are golden. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

drglenndoyle

Consistency and recovery.

There is zero shame in struggling with consistency in our trauma recovery. 

Everybody struggles with consistency. I struggle with it. 

It doesn’t mean we’re not committed. It doesn’t even mean we’re not focused. 

What it means is that CPTSD tends to jerk us around a lot. Hijack us. 

If you’re reading this, you likely know exactly what I’m talking about— what it feels like to be a puppet on a string. 

One minute we can be more or less okay— then we get yanked in the direction of anxiety. Or depression. Or self-harm urges. 

There might not even seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. No particular trigger. 

Realistic, sustainable trauma recovery requires a lot of attention to our self-talk, our mental focus, and our physiology— and it’s real hard to consistently pay attention to what we’re saying to ourselves, what we’re focusing on, and what our body is doing, when we’re getting jerked around by triggers and memories. 

That’s not our fault. Nobody reading this “chooses” to get hijacked by trauma memories and trauma responses. 

Our job is to not overreact to our difficulties being consistent. 

To not overinterpret it. 

To not tell ourselves a story about how it means we “can’t do this.” 

Our job, when we struggle with consistency in our trauma recovery, is to be compassionate and realistic with ourselves. 

Maybe even gentle with ourselves. 

Maybe even (GASP) FORGIVING of ourselves, for struggling with consistency. 

What a concept, right? 

Don’t get up in your head about it. Consistency is hard. And it’s especially hard when we have CPTSD f*cking with us. 

When you get off track, push pause, breathe, blink, focus…and just do the next right thing for your recovery. Just get back on track when you can. 

Consistency is a long game. 

Keep coming back to center. To your recovery goals and your recovery values. To your recovery self. 

Easy does it. Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Mile One is not Mile 26– but it counts.

The fact that we’re not where we want to be, in trauma recovery or in life, does not negate how far we’ve come. 

And by the way, even if “how far you’ve come” is having gone one day without harming yourself or otherwise relapsing, you have the right to be proud. 

Every long term recovery starts with twenty four hours— and every twenty four hours starts with one hour. 

If you’re reading this, chances are you’re at least sort of, kind of, maybe, considering trauma or addiction recovery, or you’re looking for things worth thinking about when it comes to making your trauma or addiction recovery realistic. 

That’s not nothing. That’s progress. 

So— even if you’re at the very beginning of the process, you’re not at Square One. Truly. 

And but also, you’re almost assuredly not where you want to be. 

No shame. I’m not where I want to be in my own trauma and addiction recovery. 

I’m not where I was, either— and both of those things are true and meaningful. 

The fact that we still have changes to make, doesn’t mean we’ve done nothing. 

Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, is going to try really hard to get you to think these overgeneralized, back and white terms. You know what I’m talking about. 

Trauma Brain is going to try, hard, to convince you that because you’re not where you want to be, because your life kind of (or really) sucks on multiple levels, then you’re “nowhere” in this recovery thing. 

Or that what you have done in recovery— up to and including reading these words— “doesn’t count.” 

My ass, it doesn’t count. 

Sustainable trauma recovery asks us to think not in black and white terms, but in realistic shades of grey. 

Sure, we’re not where we want to be, where we think we “should” be. 

But that doesn’t mean we’re nowhere. 

That doesn’t mean what we HAVE done in our recovery— up to and including these words— “doesn’t count.” 

I run marathons. And I can tell you that after running Mile One, every marathon runner is acutely aware that we have 25 miles left to go. 

But that doesn’t mean Mile One “didn’t count.” 

If I have to run 26.2 miles, I’d rather have run one mile than not. 

The fact that we’re not at the finish line, not where we want to be, not where we think we “should” be, means that we still have work to do, still have goals to focus on. 

But it does not mean we’re still at the start line. 

Radically accept where you are in this “trauma recovery” marathon— not because you want to stay where you are, but explicitly because you DON’T want to stay there. 


Breathe; blink; focus. 

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

You don’t have to love this trauma recovery sh*t. Really.

Whoever told you you always have to have a “good attitude” about this trauma recovery sh*t, was lying. You don’t. 

I don’t always have a “good attitude” about this trauma recovery sh*t, and it’s my job. 

Nobody says you have to love it. Nobody says you always have to be motivated, or sanguine, or zen about it. 

I’ll spoil the suspense, your attitude, like mine, will often suck. 

And, that’s not a deal breaker when it comes to trauma recovery. 

Realistic recovery asks us to work it right on through The Suck. 

It asks us to refrain from hurting or killing ourselves, even when we want to. Even when we think that’s what we “deserve.” Even when we think we can’t go on one more minute. 

Not doing something you really want to do— or you really think you “have” to do— sucks. 

And, you can do it. 

Interrupting yourself when you’re beating the sh*t out of yourself is hard. 

And, you can do it. 

Paying attention to your physiology, especially your breathing, is a hassle. 

And, you can do it. 

Working our trauma recovery requires us to be different from all those people who will read this post and comment with 2,477,270 reasons why they “can’t” or “shouldn’t have to.” 

Working our trauma recovery asks us to stand up for ourselves against our bullies and abusers— specifically, the ones in our head, the ones who are still giving us sh*t, even though they may not even be in our life (or even alive) anymore. 

Working our trauma recovery asks us to be realistic about what progress looks like. Because it doesn’t look like feeling 100% better overnight. 

Woking our trauma recovery asks us to be kind to and patient with “parts” of ourselves that may frustrate or confuse or infuriate us. 

None of that is easy. And yes, all of it is “easier said than done” (like literally everything). 

You don’t have to love it. 

You just have to get yourself to identify and make the next recovery supporting micro choice in how you talk to yourself, how you direct your mental focus, and how you use your breathing and body. 

The person reading this with the worst attitude, can still do that. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.

A surefire way to sabotage our trauma recovery is to tell ourselves we “have” to do it. 

Or to think of it as something our therapist or anyone else is “making” us do. 

Believe me when I tell you, neither you nor I “have” to do anything. 

Once upon a time, we did “have” to do things, or else be punished or worse. 

If you’re reading this, you likely know a lot more about coercive control than anybody should have to. 

Fast forward to now, and of course you’re touchy about feeling controlled. 

So it’s real important to remind yourself: trauma recovery is not a “have to” thing. 

You can opt out. 

Of course, by opting out of trauma recovery, you’re necessarily accepting that trauma is going to control certain aspects of your life experience. 

We are free to make decisions— but we are not free to avoid the consequences of our decisions. 

I choose recovery because it actually makes me more realistically free. 

Yes, trauma recovery means I use skills, tools, and philosophies every day that don’t necessarily come easily or naturally to me. 

Yes, it means I cannot just let my mind go where it’s going to go on autopilot— because I’m quite aware that my “autopilot” was programmed by my bullies and abusers. I know where leaving my brain and body on autopilot leaves me, every time. 

That is to say: I know that working my trauma recovery makes me a little less “free” in the moment. 

But the freedom recovery offers me in the bigger picture— the freedom to NOT let my bullies and abusers control my life choices, how I feel and function— is so much more important to me than that day to day, minute to minute sh*t, it’s not even a question. 

Your milage may vary. As I say, no one “has” to do any of this sh*t. No one even “has” to read this page. There are literally thousands of other internet pages. Some of them even have cats, or so I’m told. 

I choose recovery. 

And I recommend recovery. 

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose; and nothin’ don’t mean nothin’ if it ain’t free.”

drglenndoyle

Over it.

A very common experience of people reading these words is, we’re f*cking over it. 

I mean, really, really over it. 

Over trauma. 

Over therapy. 

Over recovery. 

Over…all of it. 

Almost everybody reading this is tired. 

Many survivors reading this are pissed off. 

More than a few survivors reading this are numb. 

We are sick and tired of being sick and tired. 

We’re just…over it. 

Then, of course, along with feeling over it, we might also be feeling shame. Because we’re not “supposed” to feel this way. 


Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, is real good at telling us we’re not “supposed” to be feeling WHATEVER we happen to be feeling— including over it. 

We’re “supposed” to have a “good attitude.” Because “attitude is everything,” didn’t you know? 

Or something. 

We’re “supposed” to be “nice” to people who helpfully offer their (often unsolicited) advice— because, don’t you know, they’re “just trying to help!” 

Or something. 

On, and on, and on. “Supposed” to this, “supposed” to that. 

Who reading this is f*ckng over what we’re “supposed” to feel or do? 

That’s what I thought. 

Let me tell you the reality of trauma recovery: you can be quite over it, exquisitely over it, but still work your recovery. 

Ask me how I know. 

(It’s because I’ve often had to do just that myself.)

You do NOT have to have a “good attitude”— and attitude is not, actually, “everything.” 

The rock bottom reality is, you and I are going to have good days and mid days and “meh” days in our CPTSD recovery. Some days are diamonds, some days are rocks. 

We are going to have days when we would rather walk into the f*cking ocean than haul out one more coping skill to deal with one more f*cking trauma response. 

And: the fact that we are fed up, exhausted, over it, doesn’t mean that we have to yeet our recovery progress into the sun. 

We can be utterly honest about how we feel— and work our recovery anyway. 

We can want to quit— and work our recovery anyway. 

We can be f*ckng over it— and work our recovery anyway. 

I do not expect, or even want, you to have an amazing, or even “positive” attitude at every point in this process. 

I do want you doing what you need to do to be safe and stable, regardless of whether today is a diamond or a rock. 

I do want you absolutely refusing to give up, even on the days when you’re over it all and your attitude sucks ass, because your bullies and abusers do not, do not, do not get to win. 

I don’t feel like a million bucks every day. Some days I feel like a wrinkled five dollar bill that’s been through the wash. 

But you and I do the things we need to do to change our nervous system, bit by realistic bit, because we are f*cking with the hassle. 

I know: you may not believe that right in this moment, pursuant to the “over it” extravaganza. 

But you are. Worth it, I mean. 

You are worth persisting, even when you’re over it. 

You are worth protecting, even when you’re over it. 

You are worth whatever it takes to realistically feel and function differently. 

And that equation absolutely exists. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery is earthy work.

Here’s the thing about affirmations: if they feel fake, they can make us worse. 

That’s a tough truth, but we can’t afford to be unrealistic about it. 

I like affirmations. I think what we repeat to ourselves really matters in how we feel and function. 

But when an affirmation clashes too sharply with what we feel and believe now, our nervous system isn’t going to just accept it. 

No, what our traumatized nervous system is going to do is reject both the message and the messenger. 

Toxic positivity is more than annoying to CPTSD survivors. 

Toxic positivity can be actually triggering to CPTSD survivors. 

It triggers our bullsh*t radar. 

And our bullsh*t radar is finely tuned after years of interpersonal trauma and emotional neglect and mental abuse. 

Some people don’t love the language I use on this page— and I get it. 

They are 100% entitled to not love the language I use in discussing trauma and recovery, up to and including setting boundaries with me or my page because of it. 

Of course I understand why profanity and colloquial language trigger some survivors. No shame, no shade. 

But one of the reasons I use the language and idioms I do on this page is explicitly to avoid toxic positivity bullsh*t. 

There are some people who think ANY discussion of recovery that accompanies the discussion of trauma is “toxic positivity”— but I don’t believe that. 

I believe trauma recovery is both possible and realistically achievable for every survivor (yes, I said “every,” deal with it) reading this— IF we manage our expectations and are deliberate about our focus and language. 

That is to say: if we don’t sugar coat this sh*t. 

I’m actually not all that “profane” a person in everyday life. If anything I probably use relatively less profanity than many people. 

But when it comes to discussing both trauma and recovery, I don’t believe in candy coating. 

 I think it’s super important we avoid fluffy pop psychology tropes and fantasies. 

That’s why I keep coming back, again and again, to some unglamorous truths about recovery, such as: 

Therapy and therapists are not the be all, end all of trauma recovery. 

Most of the important trauma recovery work we’ll ever do, we do alone. 

EVERY effective trauma recovery tool is a version or combination of self talk, mental focus, and physiology— including the most appealingly branded tools, like EMDR. 

And the connections between trauma and addiction are undeniable and MUST be accounted for, in EVERY survivor’s recovery blueprint. 

I guarantee, there are survivors reading this who profoundly disagree with some or all of those points— and they’re likely piping up in the comments right now (as is is their right— God bless!). 

My thoughts on trauma recovery aren’t for everyone. 

But those who do resonate with and benefit from what I write, know that toxic positivity— including bullsh*t affirmations— don’t get us where we need to know. 

I believe in affirmations. 

But I believe in making them realistic and grounded. Gritty, if you will. 

I like my affirmations earthy because I believe trauma recovery is earthy work. 

Your mileage may vary. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

You don’t have to hate yourself.

You don’t have to hate yourself. 

I know, that sounds obvious, right? 

Not to CPTSD survivors it’s not. 

We are very often conditioned to hate ourselves. 

And distrust ourselves. 

And hurt ourselves. 

When I say we are “conditioned,” what I mean is, we are not making a “choice.” 

We have been programmed. Trained. 

Most of us don’t even realize what’s happening inside our head and heart— all we know is, we f*cking hate ourselves. 

We wouldn’t hold anyone else to the standards we hold ourselves to. 

We wouldn’t talk to anyone else like we talk to ourselves in our own head. 

We wouldn’t punish anyone else for simply existing and breathing and taking up space, he way we punish ourselves. 

Why do we hate ourselves so much? 

Because the experiences that evoke CPTSD often leave us feeling like it was our fault. 

And, not for nothing, we’re often TOLD it was our fault. 

We walk away from those experiences believing we are unworthy. 

We walk away from those experiences feeling incompetent. 

Abuse, neglect, and coercive control— the experiences most often associated with CPTSD— often just shred our self-esteem beyond anything recognizable by non-survivors. 

Sexual abuse in childhood— the experience most often associated with DID— often leaves us feeling fundamentally “gross” and unlovable and complicit. 

We don’t “ask” for any of those feelings. None of those feelings has anything to do with reality. 

But all we know is, we arrive in adulthood just seething at ourselves.

Sometimes it’s so bad we can’t even look at ourselves in the mirror or stand to hear our voice on a recording. 

That’s where we are. It’s not where we “should” be; but it’s where many survivors reading this start. 

Changing that— learning to not hate ourselves— starts with just introducing the simple idea: it doesn’t have to be this way. 

We don’t hate ourselves because we “have” to. We hate ourselves because we’ve been trained to. 

We can unlearn what we once learned. 

Don’t get me wrong: it will take time. And patience. And persistence. And commitment. Just like every meaningful shift in realistic trauma recovery. 

Oh, it’s a massive pain in the ass. 

And but also: it’s a pain in the ass that’s worth it. 

You deserve to be on your own side. To have your own back. 

You deserve the most realistic shot at meaningful trauma recovery possible. 

And that includes not waking up and f*cking hating yourself. 

Because you don’t have to. Nothing bad will happen if you don’t. 

I promise. 

drglenndoyle

Second acts. Third acts. Fourth acts. More acts.

Something I strongly believe in, to the very core of my being, is that life unfolds in second, third, and fourth “acts.” 

I remember being suicidal and in very active addiction at age 20— and being firmly convinced my life had run its course. 

At age TWENTY. 

I remember thinking, I’d had my chance at adulthood— and blew it. 

I’d had my chance at love— and blew it. 

I’d had my chance at a career— and blew it. 

Again: at age twenty. 

What I didn’t know then, and I do know now, is that I had only experience one, or maybe two by that point, of the “acts” of my life. 

I didn’t realize there were more. 

Not only were there more— but my second, third, and fourth “acts” would look ridiculously different from my first couple of acts. 

At age twenty, I had no vision of being a psychologist. 

At age twenty, I had no vision of writing things for public consumption. 

At age twenty, I had no vision of supporting trauma survivors and addicts like myself create realistic recovery blueprints and make recovery supporting choices one day at a time. 

Those things, which now powerfully define me, were not even on my radar screen. 

At age twenty, I wouldn’t even meet the person I would eventually marry for another twenty six YEARS. 

At age twenty, two cats who I would come to overwhelmingly love weren’t even close to being born yet. 

I’m telling you: we don’t know where we are on our recovery, or life, arc. Even now we don’t. 

You and even I have life “acts” ahead of us that we can’t even imagine. 

You know the Twelve Step slogan, “don’t quit before the miracle?” This is what I think that slogan means: don’t assume what you’re currently thinking, feeling or doing, will be what you’re thinking, feeling, or doing indefinitely. 

Don’t assume the identity you understand as “you” today, will be “you” tomorrow. 

I understand: it’s very, very hard for survivors who are suffering to believe there can be ANYTHING positive in front of us. The phenomenon psychologists call “learned helplessness”— where we give up expecting anything to change, because nothing has ever positively changed for us in the past— kicks our ass up and down the block. 

Trauma Brain is very convincing when it tells us we have assumed our final form in how we feel and function right now. 

But we haven’t. 

Neither you nor I have assumed our final form. 

We both have life acts ahead of us. 

And if there’s any one thing I believe about the rock bottom nature of reality, it’s this: what came before can absolutely not predict what will happen next. 

You and I can and will build lives so utterly foreign to our pasts, our bullies and our abusers, it is absurd. And we will do so not by magic, but by realistic, incremental, purposeful changes to how we talk to ourselves, focus, and use our physiology. 

Trauma recovery is not magic. It is philosophy and behavioral science, and works on principles we’ve known about for centuries. 

Recovery is for you, and you are for recovery. 

You have life acts to write and perform that you’ve barely glimpsed. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

Don’t quit before the miracle.