drglenndoyle

Why I chose– and choose– recovery.

I would not have chosen trauma. Or addiction, for that matter. 

I would not have chosen it for you, and I would not have chosen it for me. 

Your mileage may vary, but I don’t believe “things happen for a reason.” 

(It’s perfectly okay if you do— I just don’t happen to believe that.) 

I don’t believe God, or anyone else, “gives” us challenges to “test” us. 

(Again, your mileage may vary— it’s perfect okay if you believe this; I jus don’t happen to.)

I think certain things happen to us just because we got enormously, extraordinarily unlucky. 

We were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, around the wrong people. We don’t ask for any of it, we don’t “choose” it, and most of the time we could not realistically opt out of it. 

I don’t believe we “chose” our parents, or what happened to us in this lifetime via “karma.” 

Here’s the thing, though: I understand why many people do believe all of those things. 

I completely understand the urge to try to give our trauma meaning. To try to convince ourselves that we somehow “caused” or “deserved” what happened to us. 

The alternative is truly awful: that terrible things can happen to innocent people, and we can’t control our vulnerability to certain kinds of trauma. 

Many people, including me, HATE that idea. We would rather feel guilty than helpless— so we bend over backwards trying to devise ways we somehow “caused” or “deserved” our trauma. 

I get it. But  don’t believe it. Not anymore, anyway. 

I don’t think God “tests” us with pain or challenges. And I definitely don’t believe we “have” to create or find meaning in our pain. 

We don’t “have” to do anything, necessarily, in response to our pain— including work a recovery. No one reading this “has” to work a recovery.  I would never suggest they do. 

All that said: I choose to work a recovery. 

And I choose to find— or, rather, create— meaning from my pain. 

This is not toxic positivity bullsh*t. This is what I choose to do with my pain, my trauma, my history. Your mileage may vary. 

I decided, at a certain point, that I was not going to waste my pain. 

The pain I endured may have been as random and meaningless as any pain that is inflicted on anyone, anywhere— but I decided that I am going to use it. 

How? By working my recovery. 

Working our recovery demands we get serious about things like values and goals and accountability in ways that people who aren’t working a recovery program will never, ever understand. 

Working a recovery means we wake up every day and choose recovery. It means no more going on autopilot. 

No more passively accepting what somebody else wants or expects from me. 

No more letting my mood, as opposed to my goals and values, determine my behavior. 

Recovery is how I decided to manufacture meaning from my pain. 

No one forced it on me. 

I could have kept on keeping on. Though at the rate I was going, I probably wouldn’t be alive to write these words if I’d done that. 

No one “has” to create meaning from their trauma by working a recovery. 

But it’s a choice we can make. 

No matter how exhausted we are, no matter how alone we feel, no matter how wounded we are. It’s not a matter of “character” or “intelligence” or any bullsh*t like that. 

Our trauma may not have had any rhyme or reason or meaning. 

But our recovery can. 

drglenndoyle

Don’t worry about pretty or perfect. Get through the day.

Trauma recovery tip: focus on getting through the day. Don’t worry if it’s pretty. Don’t worry if it’s perfect. 

(Trust me: it’s not gonna be pretty OR perfect. Not now, anyway. And that doesn’t matter.) 

For many survivors working our trauma recovery, it’s a daily battle to not get into our head about whether or not we’re dong this “right.” 

“This” could be anything, from recovery, to parenting, to our professional role, to being a son or daughter. 

Our trauma conditioning really, really loves to tell us that we’re doing most of what we do “wrong.” 

Trauma Brain will have a whole list of things we’ve done wrong, in the short term and the longer term, if we ask it. 

Remember what what Trauma Brain is: it’s the internalized voices, beliefs, and attitudes of our bullies and abusers— whether those bullies and abusers happened to be people, or communities, or churches. 

Trauma Brain represents what we took in— what now feels “right,” because it feels familiar. 

Much of our everyday programming is just us regurgitating what we were told and what we saw modeled. 

For many of us, that means we’re telling ourselves how much we suck, and we’re reenacting patterns of being cruel to ourselves— because we were often told how much we suck, and we often experienced people being cruel to us. 

For many of us, the self-cruelty kicks in so automatically, so reflexively, that we barely notice it. It just feels “right.” We don’t even acknowledge it as something that was conditioned in us— and something that may not represent reality. 

When we do have the thought that maybe the the things we have on repeat in our head may not be exactly true, we often use it as an opportunity to be even crueler to ourselves— because how could we think such stupid things? 

It’s real important to remember: these patterns of mental focus and self-talk that are kicking our ass aren’t “choices” were making. We are responding to conditioning. We are running programs that were “installed” by repeated experiences. 

The fact that we can, with practice, learn to shift our focus and choose different self talk doesn’t mean we suffered for years because of poor “choices.” 

We didn’t know what we didn’t know; and we couldn’t do what we couldn’t do. 

We do better as we learn better; as we take the risk, again and again, of being kind to and patient with ourselves, in defiance of old programming that insists we don’t “deserve” it. 

We do not need to radically shift how we talk to or behave toward ourselves today. That would be awesome; but that’s not how realistic, sustainable trauma recovery tends to work. 

Don’t worry about switching up everything in your nervous system today. Remember: the name of the game is getting though today, 1% safer, 1% more stable. 

I will take realistic, sustainable, 1% nudges over dramatic, unsustainable shifts every day. 

Usually the quest to do our trauma recovery— or anything else— “perfectly” is a distraction. A trap. A red herring. 

Usually the drive toward “perfection”— can you imagine, “perfection,” in a project as gritty and chaotic as trauma recovery?— is Trauma Brain trying to derail us with an unrealistic, unnecessary side quest. 

Don’t worry about pretty or perfect. My own recovery has been anything but. As has the recovery of almost everyone I know who has stuck with it. 

You just focus on getting through the day. 

Which means getting through the hour. 

Which means getting through this minute. This one, right here. 

Spending these few minutes reading this blog was a good start. 

See, lookit you— making Recovery Supporting Decisions (RSD’s) even as you sit there. 

You’re on the right track. 

drglenndoyle

Just keep baby stepping.

The little steps will add up. 

Not immediately. Often not in ways that will keep us consistently motivated. 

But they will add up. They will go somewhere. 

Many survivors in trauma recovery struggle with taking those little steps, not because we’re not motivated, and not because we’re not committed— but because our trauma conditioning has led us to believe it’s pointless to take any steps. 

One of the symptoms of PTSD is a sense of a “foreshortened future.” 

What that means is, we come to believe that either the world or our life is going to be ending soon anyway, so what’s the point of anything? 

This sense of foreshortened future can lead to what I call “doom attacks”— which are kind of like panic attacks, only instead of intense bursts of panic, they’re sudden, overwhelming feelings that The End Is Near and Everything is Hopeless. 

It’s hard to convince ourselves to take even baby steps when we’re convinced The End Is Near and Everything Is Pointless. 

We need to be clear about the fact that all of this is Trauma Brain creating noise to distract and derail us from our trauma recovery. 

Then truth is, little steps do add up. In fact, almost every big piece of movement in trauma recovery, or any long term project, is the end result of consistent, purposeful baby steps. 

Everybody who has ever worked a trauma recovery has done so baby step, after baby step, after baby step. 

What we need to remember, as we’re taking our little steps, is that trajectory is more important than speed. 

It matters more that our steps are consistent and headed in the right direction, than how fast we’re stepping or the size of our steps. 

The power of our trauma conditioning lies in its consistency. We were conditioned over, and over, and over, usually over the course of years. We were told certain things over, and over, and over. We were treated in certain ways over, and over, and over. 

Our trauma conditioning has a significant head start on our recovery reconditioning. 

That said, our trauma conditioning cannot, will not, outlast our baby steps toward recovery— provided we don’t get discouraged and get inconsistent with our baby steps. 

One thing I learned running marathons is: you absolutely WILL reach the finish line, if you keep moving forward. It may not be fast, it may not be pretty— but you WILL get there. 

Trauma recovery is the same way. 

We WILL create and live a life worth living— if we keep moving forward with purpose and consistency. 

Our trauma conditioning is not infinite. It can feel infinite, because by the time we get around to understanding what it is and trying to do something about it, it’s usually been kicking our ass for the majority of our life. 

But it is not infinite, and it is not set in stone. In fact, every scrap of modern neuropsych research tells us that our brain is far more malleable for far longer, than we ever previously suspected. 

If we keep taking purposeful little steps in the direction of meaningful recovery, if we stay consistent, if we don’t let the bad days and the apparent lack of progress get up in our head— we will win. 

I don’t need to you be enthusiastic about recovery every day. No one is enthusiastic about recovery every day. I’m not enthusiastic about my recovery every day. 

I don’t need you to have perfect faith in yourself or your recovery every day. Take it from me: your level of “faith” in this whole process is going to be wildly variable day to day. 

I don’t need you to truly believe that every baby step matters. If you’re having a day where you think nothing matters, that’s okay— have whatever kind of day you need to have. 

But I do need you taking the baby steps. 

I do need you nudge, nudge, nudging toward the life you envision. 

I do need you doing the things, even if you’re not feeling the love at this moment. 

Every survivor who has meaningfully recovered from trauma, has at multiple points doubted their ability to recovery from trauma. 

And every survivor who has ever meaningfully recovered from trauma has done so because they kept baby stepping on days when they assumed it was all pointless. 

Don’t believe everything you think. 

Just keep baby stepping. 

drglenndoyle

You are not “stupid.”

You are not “stupid.” 

The fact you are struggling has noting to do with intelligence. Or “character,” for that matter. 

No amount of intelligence or character makes us immune to the impact of trauma. 

But: there are many survivors reading this right now who have been convinced they’re “stupid.” 

They’ve been convinced that if only they were “smarter,” they would suffer less. 

I hate to tell you this, but the absolute smartest people I’ve ever met have been absolutely tortured by their trauma symptoms. 

In fact, trauma conditioning has this way of actually turning our intelligence against us. Nobody overthinks like a trauma survivor who is being used to logic their way out of a jam. 

Especially when our trauma involved abuse or neglect growing up, it’s very easy to believe those things happen dot us because we were “stupid.” 

Growing up, people may have talked to us as if we were “stupid.” 

A primary tool in the arsenal of many mental and emotional abusers is the implication or accusation that we are unintelligent— that if we were only smarter, we should understand that the way they related to us was fine. 

That we would “get the joke.” 

Survivors of narcissistic abuse in particular may have been subjected to constant messaging about how smart we are not— because pathological narcissists actually do believe that everyone with whom they interact is significantly less intelligent than they are. 

Our beliefs about ourselves very often echo what we were told about ourselves most often growing up, and how we were consistently treated growing up. So you can imagine what growing up with a pathological narcissist does to our self-esteem. 

(Many of us, myself included, don’t have to “imagine” that, actually.) 

Even if we wanted to take a stand and declare that we are not, in point of fact, “stupid,” many of us have been conditioned to believe that standing up for ourselves is “arrogant’ or “prideful.” 

Yes, abusers would very much prefer if we just shut up and took their abuse without question or protest, thank you very much. 

For many of us, embracing our intelligence is daunting, because even if we know we may be smarter man average, we’ve been conditioned to doubt and distrust ourselves. 

It is almost impossible to build realistic, sustainable self-esteem when we are constantly doubting and distrusting our own judgment and instincts— and abusers know this. 

Hence why gaslighting is such a common, and effective, tool for them. 

You are not “stupid.” 

I’m repeating it for a reason. Because you are not “stupid.” 

I don’t care what kind of grades you got. 

I don’t care what messages you received from any teacher or parent or peer. 

I don’t even care what any IQ test you’ve ever taken says. 

(Sometime when I’m not publicly ranting about trauma, I’ll tell  y’all the truth about IQ tests. It’s not petty.)

The messaging you received from your bullies and abusers about your lack of intelligence was fake news. It had nothing to do with reality— and everything to do with their desire to make you feel a certain kind of way. 

There are many kinds of intelligence— and as we work our trauma recovery, we reacquaint ourselves with the many ways we are, in fact, f*cking brilliant. 

I will die on the hill of: trauma survivors who have survived the sh*t we’ve survived are very often secret geniuses. 

It’s time to stop denying and disowning our genius. 

It’s time to start making our intelligence work for us— one day at a time. 

drglenndoyle

Trauma recovery means realistic responsibility and radical accountability.

One of my biggest challenges in trauma recovery is not making excuses for following up with trauma recovery tasks and tools I can use— but Trauma Brain tries to convince me I can’t. 

We need to remember that Trauma Brain— the voices of our bullies and abusers we’ve internalized as programming that influences what we think, how we feel, and what we do— always wants us to NOT use our trauma recovery tools. 

Trauma Brain does NOT want us being mindful of how we’re talking to ourselves. 

Trauma Brain does NOT want us being purposeful about what we picture in our mind’s eye. 

Trauma Brain does NOT want us being intentional about how we breathe and use our body. 

At every turn, Trauma Brain will do its best to convince us that there are perfectly valid reasons why we shouldn’t, or shouldn’t have to, use our trauma recovery tools— and I know that one of my biggest vulnerabilities in recovery is just going along with its arguments. 

After all, Trauma Brain makes it easy to go along with it. It frames its arguments in seductive ways. It can be very persuasive. 

What Trauma Brain is not, however, is on the side of our recovery. 

Remember what Trauma Brain actually wants: it wants you miserable, it wants you paralyzed, and ultimately it wants you dead. 

The reason it wants those things is simple: Trauma Brain, again, is the internalized voices and attitudes and beliefs of our bullies and abusers— and THEY want us miserable, paralyzed, and maybe even dead. 

What Trauma Brain does, at least to me, is make it very easy to not use my skills. 

(Yes, my “damn” skills, even.)

It tells me it’s too much hassle to use my skills. 

It tells me my skills won’t make a difference anyway. 

It tells me I’m not worthy of the life I’m supposed to build in recovery in the first place, so it’s kind of laughable that I’d even want or try to use my skills. 

Blah, blah blah. 

So it gives me every opportunity to make excuses for not doing things that are, actually, within my ability to do— because every trauma recovery tool boils down to SOME combination of self-talk, mental focus, and breathing/body awareness. 

I can use all of those tools. Maybe not perfectly, maybe not profoundly— but I can use them.

Unless, that is, I’m letting Trauma Brain talk me into making excuses to NOT use them. 

This is what so many people— most of whom are NOT trauma survivors in recovery— misunderstand about trauma work and recovery: working our recovery is actually the OPPOSITE of making excuses or dodging responsibility. 

Trauma Recovery asks— demands— that we be more accountable and self-responsible than most of us have ever been in our lives. And way, way more accountable and responsible than our bullies and abusers are capable of being on their best day. 

I can make choices tonight, and every night, that support my recovery— but no one else can make those choices for me. 

I can choose to read things and listen to things and watch things that refine my recovery skllst— but no one else can read or listen or watch those things for me. 

I can decide that the worst night in purposeful recovery is better than the “best” night of letting trauma kick my ass— but no one else can make that decision for me. 

Trust me: I’ve tried every single angle imaginable to NOT be responsible or accountable for my behavior. And I’m a relatively smart guy; I can make certain excuses sound real good. For a minute, at least. 

But that sh*t never got me closer to meaningful recovery or a life worth living. 

Mostly it just ruined my relationships and cost me years of my life that I’ll never get back. 

So, now, my daily mantra in trauma recovery is: realistic responsibility and radical accountability. 

I will always be at risk for making excuses— I am, after all, a trauma survivor, and I will always be vulnerable to Trauma Brain— but I take seriously my responsibly to manage that risk. 

It’s not easy. 

But anything worth having, is worth fighting for. 

drglenndoyle

There are no “failures;” there are only results.

A lot of trauma recovery is starting over, and a lot of trauma recovery is reinventing ourselves. 

How many times? As many times as it takes. 

Trauma has this way of trying to convince us that we are limited in the number of times we can try again. 

That might be true in some specific contexts— but, in the grand scheme? We never actually run out of chances to work our recovery. 

That thing, where our trauma conditioning tries to convince us we’re “done” because we’ve “failed” a certain number of times? That’s just our trauma conditioning fishing for a way to discourage us and get us to quit. 

These “failures?” Aren’t even usually failures. Though, I must confess, I’m not an authority on the subject of “failure,” because I don’t actually believe in it. 

To me, there, are no “failures.” There are only results. 

They may not be the results we prefer, or the results we expect, or the results that are consistent with our larger goals— but we always “succeed” in producing a result. 

Trauma Brain, however, very much wants you and me to believe in “failure.” 

It wants us to believe that a bad day is way more than a bad day— it wants us to believe that a bad day is “clearly” indicative of the fact that we’re doing recovery “wrong.” 

Believe me, there are lots of ways to “fail” in trauma recovery— if you believe in that kind of thing. 

We’re gonna have days when our mood sucks. 

We’re gonna have days when our motivation is zero. 

We’re gonna have days when we cry in situations where we’d very much prefer not to cry. 

And, sure, we could process all of those as “failures.” But to me it’s just not that straightforward. 

There are lots of reasons why our mood might suck, or our motivation is zero, or the water works happened to be turned on in inopportune times or places today— and chances are we don’t actually have perfect control over all those reasons. 

But even if we do have some control over some of those reasons, and even if we could have made adjustments to how we managed our feelings or responses, I still don’t consider those “failures.” They’re results. They’re data. 

No more; no less. 

Your milage may vary about all of this. Maybe you really do believe in the concept of “failure.” The question to ask, always, is: “does the belief or way of thinking about this support or chip away at my recovery?” 

Most of the “failures” we think are devastating in trauma recovery are setbacks due to moments of exhaustion or confusion. Many of those setbacks are the result of a specific skill deficit in a specific moment. 

They do not represent a generalized “failure” in recovering from trauma. 

If you’re reading this right now, even if you’re coming off of an experience of “failure”— or, as I would call it, unexpected or unwanted results— you’re still in the game. 

I know this, because you have eyes to read this and a brain to decode it and another day to work your recovery. 

How we explain what happens to us, matters. The language we use matters. The metaphors we use matter. The labels we affix to unexpected or unwanted results, matter. 

If you’re still breathing, there is no “failure” catastrophic enough to disqualify you from starting over and working your recovery today. You don’t even have to wait until tomorrow. You can work your recovery for the rest of today. 

Oh, and one more thing: Trauma Brain is very likely absolutely howling at you as you read this. 

That should be an indication that we’re on to something recovery supporting here. 

Breathe; blink; focus; and do the next right thing. 

drglenndoyle

Recovery is our lifeline, not our burden.

You can think about all this in terms of, “I have to work my trauma recovery every single f*cking day for the rest of my life”— but I wouldn’t recommend it. 

Rather, I would recommend you think in terms of, “every day, for the rest of my life, the tools, skills, and philosophies I’ve developed in my recovery are there for me. I’m not alone in this.” 

Trauma Brain is going to try to get you to think of recovery as something you “have” to do— but which would you would’t choose to do if you didn’t “have” to. 

Here’s the thing: no one “has” to work a trauma recovery. 

We do “have” to somehow deal with what’s happened to us in our life, and we do “have” to somehow manage the feelings, memories, and reactions we’re experiencing. We don’t get a choice about any of that. 

But we do get a choice about whether or not to work a recovery. No one can “make” us. 

The only difference will be whether we’re trying to handle the overwhelming symptoms and struggles of trauma on our own, with no plan or coherent approach— or whether we’re meeting our symptoms with a blueprint, a realistic game plan, and tools for the task that we’re constantly upgrading. 

I know which alternative I prefer. Because for a long time I tried to wing it, and that got me exactly where it got me. 

As long as we think of recovery as a burden, instead of an opportunity, we are going to resent it. 

The truth is, trauma recovery is not a burden. Trauma is a burden. 

Flashbacks are a burden. 

Body memories are a burden. 

Dissociative splitting that interferes with our ability to function and relate is a burden. 

Recovery is nothing or less than a commitment to meeting our symptoms and needs with radical presence, radical compassion, and a realistic acknowledgement that we are, and probably always will be, vulnerable in certain ways. 

You don’t want to go into a fight not having trained, not having scouted out your opponent, and not having devised a game plan for when sh*t goes sideways. 

That’s what trauma recovery is: your training program for the fight that is your life. 

I would not wish traumatic experiences on anyone. If I had my druthers, my job as a trauma specialist wouldn’t exist. I’d be making a living helping people quit smoking or something. 

But: none of us, not you reading this nor me writing this, had the option of trauma not existing, did we? 

None of us asked for this. The very fact that any of us have to think about the words “trauma” or “recovery” is utterly unfair. 

We can’t change that. 

We can’t deny or disown the utter f*cking unfairness of all of this— nor can we deny or disown the reality of it. 

Trauma recovery is about embracing reality, because we have things to do with our life that have nothing to do with trauma. 

We have relationships that we want to deepen. 

We have have careers we want to advance. 

Some of us even have a world to change. 

If we’re going to realistically do any of that, we need a coherent, effective set of tools, skills, and philosophies that guide how we respond to our trauma symptoms. 

That s to say: we need to work a recovery. 

How long will we need to work our trauma recovery? I honestly don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to live my life without learning into a recovery paradigm for my own safety and stability. 

Your mileage may vary. But I’m not sure “how long will have I have to do this” is a particularly useful question. 

Instead, maybe try, “do I need to work my recovery today?”

In my experience, if you need to ask, the answer is very often, “yes.” 

And that’s okay. 

Recovery is not your burden. Recovery is your lifeline. 

Don’t get it twisted. 

drglenndoyle

Recovery isn’t recovery unless it’s realistic & sustainable.

Something that holds many survivors back in trauma recovery is, we can’t imagine a recovery that is consistent with the life we’re living now. 

I know, we’re working a trauma recovery to create a new life, that doesn’t particularly resemble the life we’re living now. 

But in the short term, if we can only envision trauma recovery as something that entails a drastic departure from our current reality, it’s likely going to affect our levels of motivation and belief. 

We’ve been around long enough to know that dramatic leaps rarely happen. They do happen, sometimes— but they tend to be the exception, not the norm. 

We’ve been around long enough to know that tomorrow is probably going to look a lot like today. Much like today looked a lot like yesterday. 

In trauma recovery, we are always swimming upstream against hopelessness and our vulnerability to becoming overwhelmed. Trying to envision our recovery as a whole new life, entirely incompatible with or removed from what we’re living now, makes us especially vulnerable to both. 

This is is why I sound like a broken record when it comes to taking baby steps. 

This is why I sound like a broken record when it comes to focusing on .01% shifts. 

This is why I sound like a broken record when it comes to setting recovery goals so small they feel stupid— goals so small it’d almost be harder NOT to achieve them. 

The truth is, I very much want a dramatically different life for you. That’s the only reason I do this work— because I love watching people completely remake themselves and their lives. 

But I want that transformation to be realistic. I want it to actually happen. I don’t want it to remain a fantasy that sounds awesome and is temporarily motivating— but which evaporates when it’s exposed to the pressures and obligations of our current life. 

Something we know very well in the behavioral sciences is that change that takes us dramatically out of our comfort zone is usually unsustainable without a massive level of support. 

I don’t know about you, but I don’t know many trauma survivors working our recovery who have a “massive level of support” handy. 

So: when I say start small, I’m not just talking about making changes you already have the strength and skill to make, although that’s obviously part of the equation. 

I say start small to avoid freaking out your nervous system. 

(If you’re a survivor working your recovery, chances are your nervous system exists at a baseline level of “freaked out”— we don’t particularly need to add to that with unrealistic expectations of recovery, you know?)

What I want for you in your recovery is to make consistent, manageable changes over time. I want, in six months, you to be able to look back on changes that you’ve made in how you think, feel, and behave, and realize, huh, it’s been six months— I didn’t think I could keep any of that up for six DAYS. 

What we think, feel, and do has a lot to do with neural pathways that have been shaped and conditioned over time. If we try to rip out every neural network we have all at once, our nervous system is going to respond to that feeling of chaos and unfamiliarity by reverting back to and doubling down on its old programming. 

That is to say, trying to make too many changes, too fast, not only won’t serve our trauma recovery— it’ll likely set us back.

Again, I don’t know about you, but I don’t have time to be set back in my trauma recovery. 

So: if you want to make radical changes in how you think, feel, and behave in the long term, I’m gonna ask you to make teeny, tiny, barely noticeable— but very consistent and very purposeful— changes in how you talk to yourself, direct your mental focus, breathe, and use your body day by day. 

This is how we realistically rebuild ourselves and our lives. 

This is how we sustainably recover. 

This is how we actually make it happen. 

drglenndoyle

“Should” & shame make us feel like sh*t.

Your mileage may vary, but I’ve never, ever gotten anywhere useful by telling myself I “shouldn’t” be feeling this way. 

There are lots of things we’re going to feel in trauma and addiction recovery that we would rather not. 

In fairness, there are lots of things we feel long before we start working our trauma or addiction recovery that we’d rather not— hence us choosing to work a recovery at all. 

But even after we get into recovery and start working it day to day, we’re often beset by feelings we just wish didn’t exist. 

Notably, a lot of grief tends to surface in trauma and addiction recovery. 

Trauma and addiction recovery work is, at its core, grief work. 

We grieve opportunities lost, relationships lost, old coping tools lost, old beliefs and illusions lost. 

We don’t productively process or move past anything in trauma or addiction recovery unless and until we’re willing to wrap our head around the grief that we’ve been desperately trying to avoid feeling. 

That said: who on earth actually wants to feel grief? No one. I surely don’t. 

So we do everything we possibly can to avoid feeling that grief. I personally have done backflips upon somersaults upon moonsaults to avoid feeling grief. 

But— if we’re honestly working our recovery, we’re going to feel that grief. We’re going to be asked to reckon with that grief. We’re going to have to make choices about how to meet that grief. 

Lots of us are used to greeting that grief, along with other feelings that surface as e work our recovery (or live our lives, for that matter) with shame. 

Many of us are real good, real practiced, at telling ourselves we “shouldn’t” be feeling a particular way. 


As a rule in recovery, every time your brain tries to “should” at you, it should raise a little bit of a red flag. 

It’s usually a sign that old conditioning is trying to influence our behavior. Trauma Brain is trying to get us to do something or not do something— and it’s trying to short circuit our conscious decision making to make that happen. 

Whenever Trauma or Addict Brain try to “should” at us, they often curiously neglect the “why” part. 

If they do try to tell us “why” we “shouldn’t” feel a thing, it’s usually kind of abstract. “You shouldn’t feel that thing because…well, you just shouldn’t.” 

Sometimes they’ll tell us we “shouldn’t” feel that thing because a “good” person wouldn’t feel that thing. 

Or maybe they tell us a “strong” person wouldn’t feel that thing. 

Or maybe Trauma or Addict Brain try to tell us we don’t have “permission” to feel that thing. 

Let me tell you the truth: you have “permission” to feel whatever the hell you’re feeling. 

(Actually, the real truth is, you don’t NEED anyone’s “permission” to feel anything.) 

We don’t ask for feelings. Feelings do not represent some deep fundamental truth about our “character,” our “goodness” or “badness.” 

Feelings just are. They represent an amalgam of our understanding, our conditioning, our values, and quirks of our neuropsychology. 

If we shame our feelings— these things we didn’t ask for, and which we frequently have difficulty regulating if we’ve been through trauma— we kick our self-esteem in the gut. 

“I shouldn’t be feeling this” is a statement that gets us nowhere. We ARE feeling this. Telling ourselves we “shouldn’t” usually only leads to feeling ashamed and helpless. 

I get it. Nobody wants to feel many of the things we feel int trauma or addiction recovery. 

But watch those “shoulds.” 

Maybe swap them out for, “It’s a complete drag I’m feeling this way, I don’t WANT to feel this way, I HATE that I feel this way;” then maybe follow up with “…but the fact that I feel this way makes sense, somehow, some way, even if I don’t understand it now.” 

Swap out judgment and shame for curiosity and acceptance. 

Yes, easier said than done. 

But that’s true of literally every recovery task and tool. 

You’re up to this.