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

Validation: the least fluffy, non-bullsh*t concept in trauma recovery.

Validating our pain can be a really tough ask for CPTSD survivors. 

Pain sucks. Why on earth would we want to “validate” it? 

Many of us were actually taught to do the exact opposite: to INVALIDATE our pain at every opportunity. 

To tell ourselves our pain doesn’t count. 

To tell ourselves our pain is “crazy.” 

To call ourselves “weak,” among other things, for even experiencing pain. 

Over and over again, we were taught to communicate to ourselves that our pain should simply not exist— and maybe WE simply should not exist if we’re experiencing pain. 

We’ve often been invalidating our own pain for so long, invalidation as our default setting can feel very “right.” Very “natural.” 

Why would we want to challenge something that feels right or natural? 

Because the truth is, our pain IS valid. 

Our pain is NOT “crazy.” 

Our pain and symptoms actually make all kinds of sense, given what we’ve been through (and that’s true whether we happen to completely or coherently remember all we’ve been through or not). 

If we consistently communicate to ourselves that we “shouldn’t” be feeling or responding the way we are, that we are “crazy” or “weak” for doing so, not only are we lying to ourselves— but we’re doing our abusers’ and bullies’ dirty work for them, in our own head. 

The truth is that strong, smart people experience pain. 

There is nothing about the pain you or I are experiencing that actually means we’re “crazy” or “weak.” 

Our pain means we’re injured. Not “weak” or “crazy.” 

Why does how we talk to ourselves about or own pain matter? 

Because we are not particularly motivated to actually heal pain that we decide is “crazy” or otherwise invalid. 

Telling ourselves our pain doesn’t make sense and shouldn’t exist just leads us to try to “stuff” it, or ignore it, or maybe try to pressure or punish ourselves into not feeling it. 

I probably don’t have to tell you how well that works. 

Leading off with validation, though— telling ourselves ourselves the truth, that our pain represents an injury— gets us feeling and responding to our pain differently. 

Injuries and wounds very often heal, with the appropriate care and support. 

Validating our pain as an injury or a wound, rather than dismissing it as “crazy” or evidence of “weakness,” opens us up to realistic healing— and keeps us from needlessly, pointlessly beating ourselves up over being hurt in the first place. 

Validation is not some warm and fuzzy, pop psychology bullsh*t. 

It is a practical, essential tool in sustainable trauma recovery. 

Your pain is valid and you are valid. 

No matter how familiar or pervasive that “you suck” programming feels as you read this. 

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

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.