Tag: therapy

Nobody reading this is the “perfect” “victim” or survivor— and neither is the person writing this. 

But the culture likes to try to cram us into that box, doesn’t it? 

The culture really likes to tell us what we “should” look and talk and be like if we were “really” hurt or in need of help. 

And because we don’t always look and talk like other people expect us to, they often disbelieve us. 

So many people out there truly believe they can tell a trauma survivor by looking at us. 

So many people out there truly believe that their gut instinct for whether our story is true, is accurate. 

They truly believe that their Spidey Sense trumps our actual words. 

And they’re not shy about telling us this. 

The cultural narrative of the “perfect victim” is a time honored trope. 

It means a victim of trauma or pain who is completely sympathetic— who doesn’t have any rough edges, either in their personality or their story. 

You and I know that life and trauma just don’t work like that. 

Many of us have “rough edges” in our personality that are the entirely normal consequences of having endured trauma responses over the course of years. 

Many of us have overdeveloped “fight,” “flight,” “freeze,” or “flop” reflexes that other people misinterpret as us being “difficult” or taciturn with them personally. 

Many of us also have “fawn” and “f*ck” responses that paint an inaccurate picture of how attached or attracted we are to a person— and then when we have entirely normal responses to the prospect of intimacy, we get shamed or attacked. 

In certain ways, it’s not others’ fault that they mistake our trauma responses for our personalities. After all, many CPTSD survivors have been enduring so many trauma responses on the daily for so long, even we get confused about what is us and what is CPTSD. 

But it’s also the case that the culture has wildly inappropriate standards for what constitutes “legitimate” victimhood— or even what constitutes “trauma.” 

We live in a culture that, regardless of how progressive our political leadership is or isn’t at any given time, highly values individualism, and implicitly or explicitly shames “weakness” and dependence. 

Most of the “inspiring” stories in our culture revolve around people who experience trauma—and who are able to miraculously brush it off and kill the bad guy by the end of the movie. 

The culture considers trauma survivors “legitimate” to the extent that we follow in this template. 

Conversely, the culture has little understanding of or patience for long term, day by day, non-cinematic recovery. 

Which is a drag, because that’s what most trauma recovery actually looks like. 

Don’t get me wrong: I think trauma survivors are heroes, and there is plenty of drama in many survivors’ recovery stories. 

But just as often, recovery is about waking up and struggling to do the kind of “adulting” that our culture takes for granted— and assumes people manage via the magic of “personal responsibility.” 

I’ll spoil the suspense, you’re not that “perfect survivor” with the “perfect story,” and neither am I. 

And: that doesn’t actually matter. 

The culture can and will make recovery a little easier or a lot harder for us, depending on how well we meet its expectations. 

But our recovery does not depend on the culture understanding or supporting us. 

Thank God. 

Just keep coming back to basics. Just keep coming back to your safety and stability goals, today. Keep coming back to your basic tools of self talk, mental focus, and physiology. 

Just work your recovery today, this hour. 

Let the culture spin about their “perfect victim” fantasies. 

We have real lives to build and live here. 

I am so, so proud of you. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

The most experienced, successful trauma recover-er will not know how to solve EVERY trauma related problem or symptom that crops up. 

That happens. 

And that’s utterly normal. 

As it turns out, NO ONE knows how to solve EVERY problem, trauma related or otherwise, that comes across our radar screen. 

I’m talking about the smartest, most has-their-sh*t together trauma survivor in recovery you can imagine. 

I’m talking about Trauma Recovery Ninjas with years of experience, who have significantly changed their life through recovery skills, tools, and philosophies. 

Not even THEY know how to handle EVERY problem that crops up. 

Maybe you can give yourself a break for not immediately knowing how to manage or resolve EVERY symptom you experience. 

The reality is, trauma recovery is not about “knowing”…well, anything. 

It’s not like we’re handed a Book of Secret Knowledge, and suddenly we know how to effortlessly metabolize every trauma response or cognition we have. 

(Trust me, if that book were possible to write, I would write it and immediately give it away for free.)

This isn’t about “knowledge” or “intelligence.” There are plenty of trauma survivors who are literally brilliant, who get their brains beat in by trauma responses on the regular. 

What trauma recovery is actually about, is adaptation. 

It’s about how we approach the situation when we have literally no idea what to do. 

Everybody reading this has had a trauma response that has hit us in the face, and we have had literally no idea how to begin managing or processing it. 

(If you haven’t had this experience, just wait, you will.) 

The fact that we have no idea what the hell to do doesn’t mean we’re toast. 

It means we have to fall back on our trauma recovery skills, tools, and philosophies and start asking some good Recovery Supporting Questions (RSQ’s)— no more, no less. 

Speaking for myself, when a particularly intense trigger smacks me in the face, I usually have to run through a few RSQ’s before I start to get a handle on what to do— and then I have to experiment with a few tools before I find one that really “clicks.” 

Don’t get up in your head about “knowing” how to handle a situation. 

Trauma recovery is about being MacGyver, not Mr. Perfect. 

Don’t get precious and don’t get perfectionistic. Remember that literally EVERY trauma recovery skill, tool, or philosophy is a work in progress— and it’s your mission to fine tune ALL the tips and tricks you’re learning to fit your needs. 

If the world’s most accomplished trauma recover-ers get their ass kicked by trauma responses for a minute before they get their sh*t together and manage them, maybe you can let up on yourself a little bit. 

You’re a work in progress and trauma recovery is a dark ride. 

Grace over guilt. 

The “war” is not between us and our triggers. 

Our triggers are unpleasant— but they’re not the enemy. 

They didn’t ask to be triggers, any more than we asked to be triggered by them. 

The reason they are triggers is good old classical and operant conditioning. No more; no less. 

No, the real “war” in trauma recovery is between us and our old conditioning, which I like to personify as “Trauma Brain.” 

Trauma Brain is not our brain. Nor is Trauma Brain a “part” of us that needs acceptance and understanding. 

Trauma Brain is everything we internalized from our abusers and bullies. 

Every pattern of vicious self talk, every pattern of toxic mental focus, every pattern of restricted physiology. Every time the voices and priorities of our abusers and bullies seem to be running the show inside— that’s Trauma Brain. 

Sometimes “parts” of us collaborate with or amplify Trauma Brain’s bullsh*t— but they are not Trauma Brain, and Trauma Brain is not a “part.” 

Some survivors make the mistake of thinking they can negotiate with Trauma Brain. 

Some survivors misunderstand Trauma Brain as a “part” that only needs to be listened to and nurtured to change its patterns. 

Trust me: nobody reading this needs to be listening to Trauma Brain. 

Trauma Brain does not “hold” anything useful for us. It does not “protect” anything inside. Its needs are not our needs. 

Trauma survivors can be enormous empathic— and many of us really want to understand and align with what we (mistakenly) believe is a wounded part. 

That’s what Trauma Brain is counting on. That’s how it uses our empathy against us. 

If you’re going to think of yourself as a “warrior,” and your trauma recovery as a “war,” don’t think of it as you “fighting” against your triggers, or anything else outside of yourself. 

Think of yourself as in competition with your old, conditioned patterns. 

Those patterns are not our fault. 

I said: those patterns are not our fault. 

Again, I said: those patterns are not our fault. Trauma symptoms and responses are not “choices.” 

(I said: trauma symptoms and responses ARE NOT CHOICES.)

But we are fighting against those old patterns nonetheless. 

Trauma recovery is about reformatting our own hard drive. Reconditioning how we feel, what we think, what we believe how we make choices. 

None of that will be accomplished by going to “war” with our triggers. 

Triggers gonna trigger. And we are going to react. 

But after the reaction, once we realize what’s happening— we have some wiggle room. We once again have choices, even if they’re teeny, tiny choices at first, about how to talk to ourselves, what to focus on, and how to breathe and use our body. 

That’s where the “war” is fought— in our choices. 

And that’s where the “war” is realistically won. 

Most everybody reading this is engaged in a war for independence right now. 

Most everybody reading this truly wants to be independent— and also, many people reading this have very mixed beliefs and feelings about what “independence” actually means. 

For trauma survivors, “independence” can mean a lot of things. 

We hate, hate, hate feeling “dependent,” upon anyone or anything. 

Even the things it’s normal or unavoidable to feel “dependent” on— food, water, oxygen— we tend to be ambivalent about at best. 

For many people reading this, dependence has been nothing but dangerous in our lives. 

Dependence has often led us to be or remain involved with hurtful people and institutions, notably churches, long beyond the point where they proved their toxicity. 

There is a subset of mental health influencers who roam around loudly proclaiming “trauma can ONLY heal in relationships”— without any apparent understanding of how that sounds to CPTSD survivors who have only ever been hurt in relationships. 

To tell a trauma survivor the ONLY path to healing is by depending on someone else is often to guarantee that survivor absolutely will not consider trauma recovery safe or possible. 

You’re going to run into plenty of people eager to lecture you about how you need to “get over” your anger, fear, and resentment about feeling dependent. 

But very few people are going to be willing or able to tell you what exactly that’s supposed to look like. 

If we could have just “gotten over” any or all of our attachment pain points, we would certainly have done so by now. 

I don’t actually believe we have to resolve all of our ambivalence about attachment and dependence in order to realistically work a trauma recovery. 

It’s true that certain relationships— but certainly not all relationships— can be powerful tools and supports on our healing journey…but it’s my observation that almost everybody starts this journey profoundly alone. 

(And for many survivors, that profound state of aloneness is a feature, not a glitch.)

We are, in point of fact, fighting a war for independence. 

Independence of our mind from memories and beliefs that are not accurate— no matter how “right” they happen to feel— and which do not serve us. 

Independence of our nervous system from dysregulation and pain. 

Independence of our bodies from somatic memories, chronic pain, and complex illnesses that are “spiked” by CPTSD. 

Many survivors with DID in particular are fighting a war for independence of their inner environment from “parts” that, while they may mean well, often show up in self-sabotaging ways. 

Your war for independence is like all other survivors’— and it’s profoundly unlike any other survivors’. 

As you fight your war for independence, I need you to remember that wars are not won by overwhelming firepower alone. They’re very often won by strategy, patience, and commitment to one’s values and goals. 

(By the by, everyone reading this could do worse than to read Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War,” with an eye for how to apply the ancient general’s philosophies to their trauma recovery.)

Today may not be your Independence Day, yet. 

But if you’re reading this, I respect your fight, and I hope the tools, skills, and philosophies I discuss on these pages realistically add to your arsenal. 

Get dangerously consistent. 

Terrifyingly consistent. 

Get so consistent with your trauma Recovery Supporting Rituals (RSR’s) that people wonder what your deal is. 

Here’s the thing: sustainable trauma recovery is going to ask you to do things on a regular basis that the normies aren’t even going to comprehend. 

Trauma recovery makes us survivors get clear about our values, goals, and habits in ways they will never understand. 

Understand, we shouldn’t “have” to think about any of this. It sucks that we do. 

But the fact that we do have to think about trauma recovery in order to stay alive and function, means we wizards have to get real about sh*t that the muggles never do. 

Trauma recovery is not just about processing trauma or coping with trauma symptoms. 

It is ultimately about connecting with and developing and amplifying our authenticity. 

Becoming who we really are. Rediscovering— or maybe just discovering— who we were meant to be underneath all of this. 

That’s going to require courage— and discipline. 

Which is where the terrifying consistency comes in. 

Do you know how few people out there in the world actually set and work toward goals in any consistent way? 

Most of the people you and I meet in the course of a day are on cruise control. They haven’t truly thought about who they are or what they want— maybe ever. 

It’s one of the main reasons why so many people out there are so miserable— no trauma required, even. 

Trauma recovery is going to ask us to be unlike them. 

If we want trauma recovery to be realistic and sustainable— if we want it to be more than an abstraction we read about on the internet— we’re going to have to do things most people can’t, or at least won’t. 

We’re going to have to be consistent. 

Consistent in checking in with ourselves. 

Consistent in talking to ourselves like a supportive, realistic coach— not like a drill sergeant. 

Consistent in feeding and hydrating ourselves in ways that actually support our functioning. 

Consistent in reality testing the bullsh*t the culture throws our way, instead of swallowing wholesale. 

Consistent in defining and working toward our recovery goals in realistic segments, every day, every hour. 

The kind of consistency trauma recovery demands of us is not always easy. Especially if you’re like me, and you have a brain that gets enamored of shiny objects. 

But there really is no substitute for consistency. 

Dangerous consistency. Terrifying consistency. Consistency that the normies cannot wrap their heads around. 

Work your recovery like you’re obsessed. 

(You and I are trauma survivors, we f*cking KNOW what obsession looks and feels like.)

What I call the “f*ck” trauma response, where we respond to triggers by becoming hyper sexualized, fixated on sexual thoughts and behaviors, and vulnerable to risky sexual choices, is not the “fawn” response, where we please and appease in order to avoid danger. 

I think of the “f*ck” response as separate from, but related to, “fight,” “flight,” “freeze,” “fawn,” and “flop.”

(As you learn about the “F” trauma responses, you’ll come to understand they’re all related on certain levels, but very distinct on others.) 

Yes, sometimes sexual behavior is driven by the “fawn” “please and appease” reflex— but that’s not quite what I’m talking about with “f*ck.” 

When our abuse was sexual, it can do a real number on how we think about, respond to, and otherwise experience sexually. 

In some ways the “f*ck” response can appear to be a “fawn” reflex— but the main difference is that “fawn” focuses on please and appeasing the threatening person, whereas “f*ck” is focused on regulating our own nervous system. 

In some ways, “f*ck” does resemble the “flight” response, in that survivors experience it as a “flight” into sexual ideation and behavior to avoid feelings of threat— but the end goal of “f*ck” isn’t really escape, as it is with “flight.” 

In other ways, the “f*ck” response can resemble the “freeze” reflex, in that survivors can use sexual thoughts and behaviors as a way to “stop” triggering thoughts cold (in this way, “f*ck” also kind of resembles certain self harm behaviors, which survivors also use as “thought stopping” tools.)

In yet other ways, “f*ck” can resemble the “fight” trauma response, depending on how it manifests. “Fight” is a reflex centered on feeling a sense of power and efficacy as a survivor “fights back” against fear and helplessness— and anyone familiar with the “f*ck” response knows how empowering it can feel in the moment to proactively seize “control” of sexual impulses.

The reason I believe it’s important to discuss the “f*ck” response as its own thing alongside “fight,” “flight,” “freeze,” “fawn,” and “flop,” is that trauma survivors vulnerable to the “f*ck” response very often get shut down when they try to discuss it. 

Speaking as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse myself, I can affirm that sexualized trauma responses are not the easiest to acknowledge or explore, specifically because of stereotypes around how “damaged” we are after sexual abuse. 

Many survivors vulnerable to the “f*ck” response feel shame around it in ways we don’t around the other “F” responses. 

It can get to the point where we don’t even want to acknowledge that there is anything trauma-driven about how we experience sexuality, because we don’t want to navigate others’ judgment about our sexual behaviors, fantasies, or needs. 

Simply reducing “f*ck” to one of the more well known trauma responses diminishes what I believe to be an essential experience for many, many survivors of sexual trauma in particular. 

Trauma survivors should not have to go to sex therapists specifically to understand and work through their behaviors and needs surrounding their sexual trauma and consequent “f*ck” trauma responses. Sex therapists can be awesome at what they do— but the “f*ck” reflex is so much a part of so may survivors’ lives, working with it should be part of any trauma informed or trauma focused therapist’s skillset. 

If we, the trauma recovery community, ignore or minimize the “f*ck” trauma response because we feel icky about it or don’t understand it, we are ensuring that both therapists and survivors don’t know how to normalize, validate, and manage it— which leaves survivors very vulnerable to sexual manipulation, exploitation, and risk. 

There is nothing shameful about being vulnerable to the “f*ck trauma” response. It has nothing to do with your morals, your standards, or your intelligence. 

Creating and experiencing a safe, fulfilling sex life begins with understanding, with compassion, patience, and clarity, how our trauma has impacted how we experience and express our sexuality. 

It’s often not a simple equation— but few things in realistic trauma recovery are. 

You’re not a “pervert,” “freak,” or irreparably sexually damaged for being vulnerable to the “f*ck” trauma response. Trauma responses are not choices; they happen, and they do not discriminate. 

Meeting it with compassion, patience, and realism is how we understand and wrangle it. 

Breathe; blink; focus.