Don’t assume. Ask.

Many CPTSD survivors find it triggering— infuriating— when others assume things about us. 

When others assume they know what we’re thinking. 

Or what we need. 

Or what we can and can’t do. 

Many people in general find it annoying when others make assumptions about them— but it can really get under the skin of CPTSD survivors. 

Trauma survivors walk around feeling misunderstood about 90% of the time. 

Very often we walk around feeling as if we’re carrying these secrets— secrets about our past and or pain that aren’t safe to tell anyone. 

After all, we know what happens when we’re real about our experiences with many people: they overreact, they jump to conclusions, they push us away. 

We have LOTS of experience with others’ assumptions about us being very, very off the mark— and almost never are others’ assumptions about us complimentary. 

Many survivors have experience with people not being willing or able to meaningfully engage with us about our symptoms, struggles, or needs— and feeling alienated and shamed as a result. 

Take a look around at what the culture thinks it “understands” about trauma in general, let alone complex trauma or dissociation— then imagine those often exaggerated, inaccurate assumptions were copied and pasted on to you. 

Not great, right? 

One of the most healing things trauma survivors can experience in relationships of all kinds are people willing to ask us about our experiences and needs— and who are willing to actually listen to our answers. 

People who won’t treat us like a caricature or stereotype. 

People who are willing and able to remember that we are more than our post traumatic injuries— that our injuries actually get in the way of us communicating who we are. They don’t DEFINE who we are. 

Making assumptions about trauma survivors, what they experience, what they need and want, is condescending and unnecessary. 

Understand that “trauma survivors” aren’t even one big, homogenous block of people— there are as many different kinds of trauma survivors as there are different varieties of traumatic experiences. 

Don’t assume. Ask. 

And then, listen. Really, really listen. 

So maybe you’re stuck.

You might be reading this at a time in your life when you feel profoundly stuck. 

That might be more than a “feeling,” actually— you might, in fact, be stuck at this moment. 

Stuck in a job. 

Stuck in a relationship. 

Stuck in some sort of arrangement that is exploitative. Some sort of relationship, personal or professional, in which you are not seen or appreciated. 

Stuck in a position where healing your CPTSD feels improbable or impossible, because in this particular situation you are stressed and trapped and controlled— and you can’t imagine having the safety or support to make headway in your trauma recovery. 

Again, this may be more than a “feeling.” There are absolutely situations in which we can be objectively trapped. “Trapped” isn’t always a state of mind— and it doesn’t only happen to children. 

There are plenty of adults out there who feel trapped— and ashamed that they’re in the situation they’re in. 

If this is you, I need you to know you’re not screwed as far as recovery goes. 

Yes, it is definitely more difficult to recover from CPTSD if you’re in an exploitative relationship of any kind— let alone an abusive one. 

But there are things you can do. 

Much of the work of trauma recovery involves developing psychological strengths and skills, even before we make outward changes in our life— and you can start doing that, even if you’re stuck where you are for now. 

You can start learning about how trauma impacts the nervous and endocrine systems— and how to use the recovery tools of self-talk, mental focus, and physiology to start influencing your nervous and endocrine system responses. 

You can start developing recovery tools (things you can use), skills (things you can do), and philosophies (ways to think and process information) that will serve you when you finally ARE ready to make some external changes. 

There is no question: when we are stuck, trapped, or controlled in any situation, developing recovery tools and resources is more difficult. That’s real. You’re not imagining that. 

But I need you to remember that “difficult” is not “hopeless.” It is not “impossible.” 

If you’re reading this, you’ve likely done lots of difficult things in your life. 

Turning your focus toward developing internal recovery resources— at first, for now— is no different. 

You are not hopeless. You are not a lost cause. 

Start laying the groundwork. 

Every recovery— every escape— started inside someone’s head, as a plan. 

Going our own way.

A rough part of CPTSD recovery is that we often have to disregard well meaning advice from smart people in our lives. 

That can be a bigger mind f*ck than we sometimes appreciate. 

The thing about CPTSD is that it every often does a number on our self-esteem and self-concept. 

Whereas PTSD often makes us afraid of the world, CPTSD can often make us uncertain about ourselves. 

And when we’re uncertain about ourselves, we want to turn to people we trust to help us understand what things mean and what to do. 

Unfortunately, many of the people in our lives, even the smartest, best intentioned people, don’t understand trauma or what trauma recovery requires. 

They’ll tell us that in order to sleep better, we need a dark, quiet room— you know, the standard “sleep hygiene” suggestions. 

They’ll tell us that in order to feel and function better, we need to have a “positive attitude.” 

They’ll tell us that in order to feel better physically, we need to follow very specific diet and exercise routines that have us policing and judging our eating and movement. 

Anybody who struggles with CPTSD or has delved its what we know about realistic, sustainable trauma recover knows that many suggestions that may be good for non-traumatized nervous and endocrine systems, get turned on their had for trauma survivors. 

And this invites what we call cognitive dissonance: what we know from our lived experience is at odds with what we’re being told by smart people we trust. 

As I say: it’s a mind f*ck. 

And all that is before the feelings of guilt and confusion that arise when we contemplate NOT following the advice that our smart, well meaning friends and acquaintances have offered. 

The reality is that much of our trauma recovery, we have to design and develop and implement on our own. 

Many of the things we really do need, really won’t be understandable to people who are not inside our head and our skin. 

Many survivors don’t have a lot of experience in pushing back against what we are being told or encouraged to do by others— and many of us also have experience with being shamed or punished when we go our own way. 

None of this is easy. 

As I’ve said often, trauma recovery can be a dark ride and a lonely road. 

Remember that our first responsibility in this whole thing is not to anyone else’s feelings, or even to our relationship with anyone else— our first responsibility is to our safety, stability, and recovery. 

I know. I wish this was easier, too. 

But realistic recovery requires us to develop a stronger sense of personal identity than many human beings get around to developing in their entire lifetimes. 

Easy does it. Just take this one day, one hour, one micro choice at a time. 


Breathe; blink; focus; and do the next right thing— for you. 

“Good vibes only?” F*ck that.

Let’s be clear: realistic recovery does not require “good vibes only.” 

Many CPTSD survivors get sh*t for our “negative vibes.” 

“How do you expect to feel and function better, if your’e constantly finding fault?” 

“Of course you’re miserable, look at your attitude!” 

On, and on, and on. 

Often we get that “helpful” feedback from people who honestly think they’re helping. They see a connection between how we express ourselves and what they assume is “causing” our pain— that is, our attitude. 

Thing is, they have it wrong. 

Our attitude doesn’t cause our suffering. 

Our attitude is often a consequence of what we’ve been through, and what we need to do every day to continue “functioning.” 

I can tell you from long experience that many survivors who work successful trauma and addiction recoveries can come off as more than a little cynical. 

I can also tell you that superficial cynicism in and of itself is not an obstacle to recovery for most survivors. 

The truth is, working a trauma recovery is an enormously involved, exhausting task. 

OF COURSE we’re a little cynical. 

Go into a Twelve Step recovery meeting, and listen to the old timers talk, the ones who have decades of sober time— they’re rarely about the sunshine and rainbows and Care Bears. 

And that’s okay. 

Trauma recovery does not ask us to suddenly become pathological optimists in what we say and how we express ourselves. 

This is a dark ride, and we get to acknowledge it’s a dark ride. 

Doing the recovery “stuff,” designing and following through on our daily and hourly recovery routines and rituals, does not require us to be Ned Flanders. 

It requires us to be authentic. To not kid ourselves. To not deny or disown or dissociate unpleasant realities the way that 99% of the world “out there does.” 

Yeah— it’s a dark ride. 

You get to be exactly who you are on this journey. 

And if that doesn’t happen to be the most superficially optimistic or enthusiastic person on the planet at this moment? So be it. 

Authenticity is way more important to recovery than surface level cheerfulness. 

Trauma recovery is the ultimate DIY project.

One of the reasons being a trauma survivor in recovery can be exhausting is, we forever have people telling us what we “have” to do to recover. 

What we “should” do to recover. 

What therapy we need to try; what book we need to read; what guru we need to follow. 

Mind you, lots of us survivors are super interested in and motivated to learn about and understand what makes us tick and what we can do to change how we feel and function. Many of us are like sponges, we soak up everything recovery or therapy related we can find. 

But at a certain point almost every survivor has gotten sick to death of being told what their recovery “should” look like. 

The truth is, nobody can tell you what your recovery, specifically, “should” look like. Especially not somebody who doesn’t know you or hasn’t spent a lot of time getting to know what makes you tick. 

Books and therapies and therapists can all have interesting, useful ideas— but nobody who is not you has the “secret sauce” for your recovery. Not comprehensively, not all in one place. 

I’m super glad survivors have found therapies and therapists and other resources that have made a difference for them in their recovery— but my eyeballs begin to twitch when anybody starts talking about a tool with evangelical fervor. 

There IS no one modality or technique that is a perfect fit for EVERY survivor. 

(Anybody who says differently is selling something, to quote “The Princess Bride.”)

Why does this matter? Because many survivors have the experience of trying a lot of therapies, therapists, and other tools that came highly recommended— and those tools not working for them as advertised. 

Understand, that’s normal, for one type of therapy to NOT be the be-all, end-all of trauma recovery— but when you’ve been told over and over and OVER again that, say, DBT or EMDR is “THE” tool that will FINALLY get you out of your rut…well, the impact can be more than a little discouraging. 

You’ve heard me talk all about Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers that we play on repeat in our head for decades. One of Trauma Brain’s specialties is convincing us, when a therapy or recovery tool doesn’t do all it was advertised to do, that WE’RE actually “the problem”— and the scope of that “problem” will necessarily extend to ANY tool we try in our recovery journey. 

That is to say: Trauma Brain can get us feeling real hopeless, real fast. And that’s no small thing when we’re teetering on the verge of suicidal ideation or substance relapse, as many trauma survivors are on the daily. 

My point with all this is: there are lots of tools out there that may contribute to your realistic trauma recovery blueprint— and lots of tools that may not. 

I can affirm for you, as someone kind of recognized in the trauma recovery space, that NO tool, philosophy, therapy, therapist, book, or other resource— including the teachings of Dr. Glenn Patrick Doyle, however incoherent those are— is going to be your one stop shop for your trauma recovery specifically. 

Trauma recovery, as far as I’m concerned, is an integrative, dynamic project. 

EVERY tool that works, is one that necessarily needs to be adapted to your needs and injuries and strengths and skills (and budget, for that matter). 

Don’t get discouraged when one tool turns out to be not all that you hoped for. 

Take what’s useful from each thing you try, and add it to the skillset. Maybe it’ll be a big part of the skillset, maybe less so; but remember that your trauma recovery blueprint is the ultimate DIY project. 

And that’s actually the good news. 

Also remember this: anybody who tells you that the reason “their” tool did not work for you was because you “did it wrong,” didn’t sufficiently invest in it, didn’t understand it, or whatever, may be more invested in the tool (or the reputation of the tool, anyway) than you. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

“Everyone is mad at me and everybody hates me.”

Trauma Brain may take time every day to “helpfully” inform you that everybody is mad at you and everybody hates you. 

One of the most common experiences of many trauma survivors is worrying every day— or just feeling certain, every day— that people are mad at us. That people hate us. That people are about to yell at us or turn on us. 

Mind you: someone may very well be mad at you. People do get mad, sometimes for irrational or not terribly understandable reasons, and some peoples’ anger can absolutely be over the top. 

That is to say: Trauma Brain is not necessarily wrong about someone maybe being mad at you. 

What Trauma Brain— what I call the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, which we unwittingly play on repeat for decades— is distorting, however, is what that might mean. 

First off, we’re usually not in as much “trouble” as Trauma Brain wants us to think we are. 

Even if someone IS mad at us, that doesn’t necessarily equate to being “in trouble” or in danger the way Trauma Brain wants us to believe (which again, doesn’t mean we’re NEVER actually in trouble or in danger due to somebody’s anger— it just  means Trauma Brain is most often distorting things, as it does). 

What’s usually happening when we feel this way is, we’re getting yanked into emotional flashback. 

Emotional flashbacks aren’t quite the same as sensory flashbacks, the traditional yanked-back-in-time experience the world calls “flashbacks.” 

When we’re experiencing an emotional flashback, we’re often aware that we’re in the here-and-now, at least as far as our senses go— but mentally and emotionally, we suddenly feel like we did back there, back then. 

Usually small. Usually dependent. Usually afraid. 

That “in trouble” feeling is real good at evoking emotional flashbacks— making us feel like a kid again, and not in a good way. 

We need to remember, when we’re worried or convinced we’re “in trouble” and about to be yelled at or abandoned, that we may very well be responding from a place of emotional flashback— and we need to manage it with compassion, realism, and patience, not panic. 

Yes, this can absolutely be hard to do. 

But now that you’ve read this, you’re going to have at last a little easier time remembering the next time it happens to you. 

Acknowledge what’s happening, breathe, and turn toward that scared, stuck-in-the-past part of you with compassion and patience. 

Remind yourself that, no matter who may or may not be mad at you now, no matter the “trouble” you may or may not be in now, you will handle it. 

Remind yourself that the days where you had to handle scary situations on your own are over— that the young “parts” of you no longer need to scrap and improvise to survive. 

The “parts” of us that get stuck in emotional flashback need, more than anything, presence and reassurance— not least because they’re used to being shamed, belittled, or ignored. 

Again: I’m not saying that it’s impossible for someone to be mad at you, or for you to be “in trouble” with them. I’ve been in plenty situations where another adult was quite mad at me, and I was definitely “in trouble” with them. 

What I’m saying is that our trauma conditioning will try to spin that into an emergency in our nervous system that it doesn’t have to be. 

(And, not for nothing, in my experience Trauma Brain’s insistence that “everyone” is mad at us is very often exaggerated to the point of qualifying as “bullsh*t.”)

Once again, we’re back to the core of realistic trauma recovery: our relationship with ourselves. Which, for trauma recovery to stick, has to be compassionate, accepting, realistic, and supportive.

A tall order, I know, when we’ve been conditioned by trauma to hate and distrust ourselves. 

That’s why we breathe; blink; focus;  and take all of this one day, one hour, one minute at a time. 

We don’t “think” or “decide” our way out of CPTSD.

CPTSD is not the kind of thing that can just be “thought” or “decided” away. 

But the way our culture talks about “overcoming trauma,” you might think CPTSD is the kind of thing we can just “opt out of,” provided we have enough “courage.” 

So many survivors, day after day, are subjected to utter silliness from the the culture, the media, and even people in our lives, when the subject of trauma comes up. 

People who don’t understand CPTSD is a different animal from PTSD will confidently opine that “exposure” is the way to heal trauma. 

People whose only reference point for dissociation is movies in which Dissociative Identity Disorder is dramatized and distorted will confidently describe what DID supposedly looks like and how it woks. 

People who can’t distinguish between self harm or suicidal ideation and self harming or suicidal behavior will confidently discuss how to manage personal risk and safety. 

On, and on. Everybody who has access to the internet, or who otherwise has access to our ears, might seem to have opinions, sometimes strong ones, about how to manage or heal our CPTSD. 

Many times their suggestions boil down to, “have you tried NOT thinking or feeling that way?” 

Voice some version of this to a trauma survivor, and watch how our expression goes blank. 

Because we’ve heard that a lot. 

We’ve heard that healing CPTSD is a matter of “leaving the past in the past.” 

We’ve hard that healing CPTSD is a matter of “changing our thoughts.” 

We’ve heard that healing CPTSD is a matter of “forgiveness.” 

We’ve heard a lot of things— but what we don’t often hear is any kind of nuance or depth about how any of those “suggestions” is supposed to work in the real world. 

In my experience, real world CPTSD recovery has to take seriously the fact that our symptoms are not “choices”— they are the result of years of conditioning, programming, and coercion. 

Our nervous and endocrine systems CAN change— but only with a recovery blueprint that truly understands and respects our injury. 

I believe the bedrock skills of CPTSD recovery are self-talk, mental focus, and managing our physiology, especially our breathing— but HOW we leverage these tools is not obvious or easy. To try to reduce them to “leaving the past in the past” is ineffective— and insulting. 

Realistic, sustainable CPTSD recovery is going to ask us to tune out  much of the cultural noise around trauma and recovery. 

Realistic CPTSD recovery is going to ask us to check in with ourselves, a lot, and work our recovery day by day, hour by hour. 

Realistic CPTSD recovery is going to ask us to get very real about how little “control” we have over how we feel and function— and very real about how we can leverage the actual INFLUENCE we have over our feelings and choices today. 

Do not get discouraged or otherwise head f*cked by anybody’s breezy assertion that we can “think” or “decide” our way out of CPTSD. 

You’re not “crazy,” “stupid,” or “lazy”— CPTSD is a b*tch. 

Recovery starts by realistically understanding what we’re up against— conditioning— and how long term patterns actually change: one baby step, one day, one hour, one minute, one micro choice at a time. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

What self-acceptance is and isn’t in trauma recovery.

Why do we emphasize self-acceptance in trauma recovery? 

It’s not because we love where we are in life. 

It’s not even because we love WHO we are at this moment. 

If we’re working a trauma recovery, we by definition want to change both where and who we are. We don’t work a trauma recovery to stay the same. 

We emphasize acceptance in trauma recovery not because we don’t want to change, but because we DO want to REALISTICALLY change— and realistic change does not start with self-rejection or self-hate. 

If self-rejection or self-hate were successful or sustainable change strategies, most trauma survivors would have zero problems changing. 

But self-rejection and self hate are not— either sustainable or successful change strategies. 

Self-acceptance is not about approving of where or who we are. It’s about acknowledging that we are starting exactly where we’re starting. 

It means being realistic about what we’re up against. 

It means being realistic about our strengths and our vulnerabilities. 

But most of all, self-acceptance means we are not going to relate to ourselves like our bullies and abusers did. 

It means we are not going to try to influence our own behavior via shame and pressure— even if that’s what we were taught or what we experienced growing up. 

Many people new to the Twelve Step recovery tradition are confused by Step One, which emphasizes not only acceptance, but powerlessness. 

How on earth are we supposed to recover, if the price of admission to recovery is “accepting” that we are “powerless” over our problem? 

That’s the thing: we are not accepting that we are “powerless” OVER our problem. 

We are accepting that we are powerless over the fact that this is exactly where we are right now. 

That things are exactly as bad as they are, right now. 

That the past happened exactly the way the past happened. We are powerless over that. 

We are NOT “powerless” over our next micro choice. 

We are not required to “accept” the lie that Trauma Brain keeps trying to tell us— that we don’t “deserve” a different life, or that it’s just “too hard” to recover from trauma. 

Self-acceptance is a starting point that, most importantly, differentiates us from our abusers and bullies. 

It’s not where we stay or where we end. 

It’s one necessary, important tool, especially in early recovery— but one tool does not a strategy make. 

The recovery STRATEGY is to accept where we are so we can maximize our chances of realistically CHANGING. 

Why are trauma survivors so hard on ourselves?

Why is it so hard for trauma survivors to give ourselves a break? 

Why is our first instinct always, always, always to beat the sh*t out of ourselves? 

It’s not because we love it. 

It’s usually because we’ve been CONDITIONED to do it— and to be afraid of what would happen if we didn’t do it. 

Our self-aggression very often happens so instinctively, so reflexively, that we don’t even know we’re doing it much of the time. 

Many of my patients tell me they don’t even realize how hard they’re being on themselves until I have them track their self talk for a day, or even a couple hours. 

But even after we realize how hard we’re being on ourselves, we get anxious when we think of NOT being so mean to ourselves. 

We get to thinking that we “need” to be hard on ourselves— or else we won’t be “motivated.” 

We get to thinking not being so hard on ourselves will result in us getting “soft.” 

We get to thinking we “have” to be so hard on ourselves, because “self-compassion” is this touchy feely concept that isn’t REALLY important— that “real” adults talk to themselves harshly. 

“That’s just the way it is,” we tell ourselves. 

We might even tell ourselves that OTHER people might “deserve” more compassionate treatment— but not us. 

We deserve the “tough love,” maybe minus the love. 

That’s what our conditioning tells us. And most CPTSD survivors have been conditioned, over and over, year after year, to talk to ourselves in very specific, very harsh ways. 

If we stay on autopilot, we don’t stand a chance against that conditioning. That programming. 

The good news is, we don’t have to stay on autopilot. 

The bad news, or mixed news, anyway, is that going off autopilot is a b*tch. 

It’s tiring. It’s annoying. It’s a distraction from the other sh*t we have to do in our life, like work, raising kids, and caring for pets. 

Our brain will keep trying to drag us back to our old conditioning, our old programming, because that’s the pattern it knows. That’s the pattern that is etched into our nervous system. That’s the path of least resistance. 

Working our recovery means turning away from that familiar path of least resistance. 

That’s why I say trauma recovery requires courage and determination and focus that most non-survivors can’t even fathom. 

We can change our habitual self talk, as surely as we can unlearn any old way of being and learn any new way of being. Humans unlearn and learn new patterns every day, every year. 

Once upon a time it was the most natural, normal pattern to go to the bathroom in our diapers. In order to learn to use the actual toilet, we had to change everything that was “natural” to us once upon a time through repeated practice. 

Changing our brain in trauma recovery is no different. 

We’re just a little older now, and saddled with more BS— Belief Systems— than we were then. 

Does recovery “have” to be the most important thing ?

Something that was, and is, hard for me to wrap my head around in my own trauma and addiction recovery is, recovery simultaneously does and does not have to be the most important thing in my life at any given time. 

Many survivors struggle with recovery because it feels like this overwhelming, all consuming project— and it surely is. 

Done right, trauma and/or addiction recovery will absolutely touch and inform everything and anything we do. 

We do not get days— or even hours— “off” from being survivors and/or addicts in recovery. 

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it hundreds of times: trauma and addiction recovery aren’t just about trauma and/or addiction: recovery is actually about succeeding in life. 

It’s about self awareness. And time management. And goal setting. And self-care. You know, those things that every truly successful human being in the history of the species has more or less figured out. 

So, yes— the tools we develop to recover from trauma and/or addiction will and do absolutely serve us in everything we do, whether or not it’s directly related to our recovery proper. 

That said: I, and probably you, have things we want to do in our lives that have nothing to do with recovery. 

We have goals that go beyond safety and stability and sobriety. 

We have, or want, relationships that do not always revolve around recovery. 

We want to create times and spaces in which we can functionally forget that this big project called “recovery” is even a thing. 

And all that is legit. 

Make no mistake: I do not recommend trying to “forget” you’re a survivor or addict in recovery. That’s not going to end well. (Ask me how I know.) 

But I understand wanting and needing projects in your life that do not center recovery. 

Here’s the thing: I believe we do recovery specifically so that we DON’T have to focus on trauma or addiction 24/7. 

We’re not doing recovery just to do recovery. 

We’re doing recovery because we want to live. 

And the irony about that is, the more we prioritize recovery, the greater our opportunities to live actually are. 

Here’s the way I’ve come to think of it: recovery does not have to be the subject of your every waking thought. 

Recovery does, however, need to become the lens through which we see the world. 

All the other stuff in our life, all our other goals, all our decisions about time and energy management— we have to see them all in the context of recovery. 

Think of recovery as a project, yes— but maybe more importantly, as a tool. 

A master key. 

A key that will allow doors to open to us that do not have to do with the key, per se— but which, without the key, would remain closed to us. 

So— do we have to think about recovery every day? Yes— but only in the way that we “have” to think about any philosophical lens through which we see the world every day.

Recovery does have to be a non-negotiable in our life. We will surely die if we kid ourselves about that. 

And also: our trauma and addiction recovery does not have to become our identity. 

It becomes the TOOL through which we can safely and authentically express and explore our identity. 

Breathe; blink; focus.