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. 

drglenndoyle

You are not being “punished.”

You’re not being “punished” for anything you did or anything you are. Really. 

I know: sometimes it can feel like that. 

And I know there are people reading this who vehemently disagree: they truly believe their pain IS “punishment” for something. Maybe just for existing. 

I promise: reality doesn’t work like that. 

It’s true that some people will try to control our behavior through threatened punishment. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. 

I’m talking about the fact that we can get it in our head that we “deserve” the pain we’re experiencing. 

Or that we “created” that pain. 

Or that we “allowed” that pain. 

Listen to me: you did not “deserve” to be traumatized, and you do not “deserve” to suffer now. 

The fact that Trauma Brain is insisting otherwise is an artifact of your conditioning— not reality. 

Why are we so vulnerable to that idea, that we’re being “punished” for something we did or something we are? 

Sometimes it’s because we were literally told that. 

We might have been directly told that by our bullies and abusers— but we might have also been indirectly “told” that by a culture that loves its fantasies of “nothing bad can happen to people who don’t ‘deserve’ it.” 

Our culture LOVES that particular fantasy. 

The idea that terrible things can happen to people who don’t “deserve” it, that bad things can happen to good people, leaves us feeling INCREDIBLY vulnerable. We hate it. 

So we, as a culture, invent this fantasy of somehow having “caused” or “allowed” our own pain, mostly as a way to feel less powerless. 

After all: if there actually IS rhyme or reason to this pain, if it’s our “fault,” then we’re kind of in “control” of it in a way, aren’t we? 

CPTSD survivors are particularly vulnerable to this line of bullsh*t, specifically because we hate, we hate, we HATE feeling powerless. 

We’d rather feel guilty than powerless. 

Realistic recovery asks us to give that fantasy up— which is harder than it sounds. 

Realistic recovery asks us to give up the idea that “everything happens for a reason.” 

Realistic recovery asks us to give up the idea hat we could have somehow avoided or controlled the trauma we experienced. 

Realistic recovery asks us to give up the idea that we’re being “punished.” 

Understand: we have been deeply, deeply programmed and conditioned to believe these things. Giving them up is not a one time decision. 

Rather: giving up those self-blaming ideas and fantasies is a process. 

It’s a process of notching when our old programming is activated— and intentionally, consistently scrambling it. Talking back to it. Swapping in new beliefs and self talk for the old. 

It’s a massive pain in the ass. 

And: it’s worth it. 

It’s worth it to liberate ourselves from the vicious fallacy that this is all our fault. 

No one reading this “deservers” to suffer for anything that happened TO them, or for what they didn’t know or couldn’t do in the past. 

You deserve recovery. 

You deserve support. 

You deserve to live. 

Breathe; blink; focus; and do the next recovery supporting thing. 

drglenndoyle

“They” will try.

“They” will try to influence you. All day. 

They don’t actually want you to recover from CPTSD or DID. Hell, some of them don’t even believe in CPTSD or DID. 

They don’t especially care what you actually need to recover from your trauma. 

What they do want, is for you to behave in ways they find understandable, predictable, and controllable. 

That’s not being negative; that’s reality. 

What most people want from you is predictability and controllability. And they want your motives and choices to make sense to them. 

Anything else threatens or inconveniences them. 

That’s not to say “they” are necessary ill-intentioned. Some of “them” actually think they’re helping— they think all this “trauma” stuff is bullsh*t, and it’s keeping you from “letting go” or “moving on.” 

They’re going to think what they’re going to think. 

It’s not your job to educate them. 

It IS your job to work your recovery, regardless of what they think or how they try to influence you. 

The fact is, your recovery will ask things of you that they won’t understand. 

It’ll ask things of you that won’t make you particularly predictable to them— that is, you won’t be behaving like the version of you that they knew before. 

And recovery will definitely ask things of you that will make you difficult to control. 

“They” won’t love it. 

They’ll try to pressure and shame you into abandoning your recovery. 

“Why can’t you just be normal?” 

“Why can’t you just let it go?” 

“Why are you always talking about ‘recovery?’” 

Yes, they’ll try all of that— and what they’re really trying is to force you back into that box you were in pre-recovery. 

It’s going to be up to you, every day, to not let them get in your head. 

“Their” skepticism about trauma and recovery might mirror your own skepticism— that is, Trauma Brain’s insistence that you’re just a “drama queen” and none of this actually all that big a deal. 

Even if what they say has teeth or resonates with you— it’s on you to stay on target. 

You’re not working your recovery to please or impress them. 

You’re doing this to save your life. 

You’re doing this to protect your goals. 

You’re doing this to actually live you values. 

So “they” will try to influence you. 

You keep your recovery tools, recovery mission statement, and recovery blueprint handy. 

You stay true to yourself and your needs. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Every day in trauma recovery– and every survivor– is a mixed bag.

Every day in trauma recovery, including today, is going to be a mixed bag. 

What that means for you is that if you happen to be having a garbage day today, that’s okay. 

It’s not preferable, we don’t love it— but it’s okay. 

It’s not evidence you’re “failing.” 

It’s not evidence you’re screwed. 

Why does this matter? Because you, like me and every other trauma survivor, are likely super vulnerable to perfectionism. 

We truly believe that if today doesn’t go exactly to plan, we’re in trouble. 

We’ve been CONDITIONED to think in very black and white terms about things like “success” and “failure.” 

Just today I worked with multiple survivors who thought that because their sessions weren’t picture perfect, they “must” have “failed” me, or themselves, or their recovery. 

What BS. (Belief Systems— but also, you know, bullsh*t.)

The truth is, some of the most ultimately productive therapy sessions are wildly unpredictable and imperfect. 

The broader truth is that some of the most productive recovery days are wildly unpredictable and imperfect. 

It’s okay. 

What I want to communicate to every trauma survivor reading these words is, you are working a real world recovery. We want it to be realistic and sustainable— and that means we have to give up these fantasies about having “perfect” recovery days. 

Trauma recovery does not have perfect days because life does not have perfect days. 

If you or I happen to have a “perfect” recovery day in terms of choosing and using our tools and skills, that’s completely accidental, insofar as humans almost NEVER have “perfect” days. 

(No, you are not The Exception.”) 

Acknowledging that nearly 100% of our recovery days will be a mixed bag is not “making excuses” for underperforming. 

It’s acknowledging reality— which we survivors can struggle with, when reality isn’t great. 

When reality isn’t great, our default is often shame and self-blame— which makes perfect sense, insofar as we were often shamed and blamed growing up for…well, a lot of things, very few of which we actually our fault or responsibility. 

Trauma recovery asks us to scramble that pattern of reflexively shaming or blaming ourselves when our day or our choices are imperfect. 

Trauma recovery is a mixed bag. You and I are mixed bags. 

And that’s okay. 

The task in font of us is still the same: baby steps that are congruent with our recovery goals and values. 

Just do the next right thing— and forgive yourself. 

Again ,and again, and again. 

drglenndoyle

CPTSD hijacks our attention & dysregulates our emotions.

I think of CPSTD as a hijacker of attention. 

That’s mostly what CPTSD does. Yank our attention toward things and people that do not deserve it and that do not serve us. 

I think of CPTSD recovery as the process of relearning— or, in many cases, learning in the first place— how to retake effective control of our attention. 

Trauma yanks our attention toward memories, thoughts, and beliefs that make us feel like garbage. 

Trauma evokes self-talk that scares and demoralizes us. 

Trauma coerces our attention toward emotional regulation strategies, like substance use and self-harm, that create more problems than they solve. 

Effective trauma recovery is almost entirely about effective attention management. 

Being able to shift our attention away from things that scare and sabotage us, and toward things that support us in dealing with reality. 

Every effective trauma recovery strategy supports us in retaking control of our attention. 

One of the things that makes CPTSD recovery so hard in the fist place is the fact that most of us were not taught how to direct our attention growing up. 

Many of us assume we’re at the mercy of our attention and our emotions— that the only way we can get “over” trauma is by something magical happening, such that our attention is no long drawn toward things that make us feel like sh*t. 

Unfortunately, there is no magic in trauma recovery. 

What there is, is realistic attention management and emotional regulation— which almost always reduce down to making choices about our self-talk, mental focus, and physiology, especially our breathing. 

I wish it was more profound than that— but it’s not. 

Which is not to say any of this is easy. 

Effectively working our trauma recovery means wrangling our attention— which can be a massive pain in the ass. 

Most of us would rather not invest the effort in wrangling our attention or regulating our emotions that trauma recovery requires— and, to be clear, none of this is f*cking fair. 

Neither you nor I should have to even think about any of this sh*t. 

But— we don’t have the option of not having lived the life we lived. We don’t have the option of not having to wake up every morning and staring CPTSD in the face. 

So: wringing our attention and regulating our emotions it is. 

Step by step, day by day. 

You can do this. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Slow down. You’re doin’ fine.

I want your CPTSD recovery to be realistic and sustainable. 

Not dramatic. Not cinematic. 

And not stupid fast. 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want any survivor to suffer for a second longer than they have to. 

But I have seen trauma recovery go up in smoke because survivors pressured themselves to do it fast. 

Part of that is an artifact of how many of us were raised. 

Many of us were conditioned to believe that fast is good and slow is bad. That if we’re “good” at something, we can do it fast, and ideally more or less perfectly the first time. 

Many trauma survivors (and many humans!) very much HATE feeling like we’re not good at a thing we’re trying to do. 

We feel embarrassed. We feel humiliated. 

We feel like we want to quit this thing we’re trying, because we believe we’re “failing” at it— and we want to not try at it anymore, because who needs to feel like a “failure,” am I right? 

The truth about trauma recovery is, we tend to be better at it the slower we take it. 

And the real truth about trauma recovery that many survivors don’t want to hear is, we only ever get REALLY good at it by embracing the fact that we are, every day, beginners at it. 

That might sound weird. Isn’t the goal of this whole thing to achieve mastery? 

You bet it is— but we only ever achieve anything approaching mastery at trauma recovery by approaching it every day as a beginner. 

Whenever a survivor starts making noises about how “good” they are at trauma recovery, that sends up a flag for me— a flag that there’s something off about their recovery. 

Trauma recovery is too delicately balanced for us to get a big head about any of it. 

True masters, of recovery or anything else, approach EVERYTHING as a learning opportunity. 

I approach every day in my own trauma and addiction recovery as a student. A beginner, who has things to learn from this day. 

Not only does that take off some of the pressure of having to “perform” recovery, it reminds me that I am never, ever, so strong or so skilled that I have nothing to learn from this day. 

Part of being an eternal beginner, an eternal student, is going slow. 

After all, if we go too fast, we can’t really learn things— we’re too busy keeping up and plowing ahead. 

Mind you: I’m a big believer in self-improvement and goal setting. 

Yes, I want to improve constantly. A core principle of my life is CANI— Constant And Never-ending Improvement. 

But to realistically achieve CANI, I have to slow down. 

To really look and really see. 

To really take in what this day in recovery has to teach me. 

To really internalize and reinforce the skills, tools, and philosophies that will keep me safe and stable today. 

Wanna go fast in trauma recovery? Me too. 

So go slow. 

Slow is steady. 

Steady is fast.

And beginner mind is mastery. 

drglenndoyle

So no one told us life was gonna be this way.

Trauma and addiction recovery bring us face to face with the fact that our life did not go as planned. 

Maybe nobody’s life does. But our life really, really didn’t. 

And, we’re going to have feelings about that fact. 

There’s going to be anger about that fact. 

There’s going to be sadness about that fact. 

And if you’re like me, there’s going to be plenty of just…f*cking…amazement at how spectacularly off the rails life has gone. 

Many survivors in recovery really struggle with accepting that we’re this far from where we thought, where we assumed, we’d end up. 

We weren’t supposed to be HERE by now. 

We were supposed to be…who knows where, but not HERE. 

We can get real up in our head about where we ended up at this point in our life. 

It’s real easy to get into a spiral about the fact. 

Reeling ourselves in when we get all freaked out by how f*cking far we feel from the path we “should” be on, is a recovery skill. 

We get to feel whatever we feel about it. Sad, angry, incredulous, whatever. 

And, we get to not let whatever we feel about it drag us away from working our recovery today. 

The truth is, there’s no guarantee we were EVER “supposed” to life ANY specific life. 

Hell, I did not even imagine I’d be alive today, let alone on a particular life path. 

Whatever “path” we thought was for us, just wasn’t in the cards. 

So be it. 

Apparently that life was never supposed to be a thing. 

This is the life we have. This life, right here, right now. 

Not our life as a victim of trauma or an addict in active suffering— but our life in recovery. 

The teeny, tiny recovery supporting rituals we do today are more important than anything that “could have been” or “should have been.” 

What we do next is infinitely more important than what we did or didn’t do at any moment in the past. 

So life didn’t go as planned. So what. 

We have today. 

We are alive today. 

We have a chance to influence today, with our self talk, our mental focus, and our physiology. 

We’re here. 

That’s all that matters now.