drglenndoyle

Let’s talk trauma Recovery Supporting Rituals.

Let’s talk about Recovery Supporting Rituals (RSR’s). Because, for my money, RSR’s are the key to realistic, sustainable trauma recovery. 

The content I write on the internet has, broadly two purposes: to make hope accessible, and to make tools accessible to survivors working their trauma recovery. 

The goal of some of the material I write about is to communicate broad ideas and fundamentals of what  call Trauma Recovery Mindset (TRM), from which we can derive specific, individualized tools survivors hopefully find useful in recovery. 

Many of those tools turn into Recovery Supporting Rituals (RSR’s). 

What is a ritual? It’s a behavior that has structure, is broadly replicable across time and contexts, and which we choose to do over, and over, and over again. 

Every major religion, political party, or other entry that successfully changes the way humans believe, think, and act, has rituals. That’s not a coincidence— it’s because rituals work to change how humans believe, think, and act. 

Trauma recovery is about changing what we believe, what we think, and what we do. If our recovery doesn’t help us do all three, it’s not working. 

If you haven’t noticed, changing what we believe, how we think, and what we do, can be pretty f*cking challenging. If it was easy, I wouldn’t have a job (well, this job, anyway; I’d probably be playing piano in a bar for tips); and you likely wouldn’t be reading this. 

Changing beliefs, thoughts, and behaviors is challenging because we believe what we believe, think what we think, and do what we do because of conditioning. 

We’ve been conditioned, programmed, brainwashed into our current beliefs, thoughts, and behaviors. 

Here’s the thing: that conditioning is physical. Our past experiences, notably abuse, neglect, and other trauma, have resulted in literal, physical pathways in our nervous system.

Those pathways aren’t going to reroute themselves— but they can and will change in response to experience. Neuroscientists call this “neuroplasticity.” 

The catch is: those new experiences that will realistically reroute our neural pathways, resulting in changed beliefs, thoughts, and behaviors? They have to be consistent. They have to happen over and over and over again. 

This is why we want to ritualize them. 

We want to give those new experiences structure. We want those new experiences, which we’re counting on to literally, physically reshape our nervous system, to be realistically accessible in different settings, and to be reliably replicable day after day after day. 

We need them to become rituals. 

Many of us have experience with rituals that do NOT support our recovery. Most of the rituals we’re used to were designed by someone else, for the purpose of us believing, thinking, and doing what THEY want us to believe, think, and do. 

What makes a Recovery Supporting Ritual “recovery supporting” is the fact that we design them, for the purpose of believing, thinking, and doing things that will nudge us closer to feeling and functioning differently. 

The RSR’s you design to support your recovery may not look like he RSR’s that support my recovery. Your RSR’s are going to be cued to the beliefs, thoughts, and behaviors that you’re trying to develop in your specific trauma recovery. 

But what all RSR’s have in common is that they are purposeful; they are realistic; they are replicable across settings and contexts; and they are adjustable in response to changes we experience in our symptoms and recovery needs. 

The success of our trauma recovery is, in my experience, strongly tied to our RSR’s. 

It’s not what we do every now and then or when we feel like it that will determine the realism or sustainability of our trauma recovery. 

It’s what we do purposefully and consistently. 

Our rituals. 

If trauma recovery is brainwashing ourselves in opposition to our trauma brainwashing, Recovery Supporting Rituals are the nuts and bolts of how we do it. 

drglenndoyle

The most important moment & decision in trauma recovery.

The most important moment in our trauma recovery is this moment. 

The most important decision in our trauma recovery is the very next teeny, tiny micro decision. 

Why? Because this moment and this next decision is where we have leverage. 

We have zero leverage “back there, back then.” Any moment “back there, back then” is gone forever. 

We can lose days, weeks, months, years, spinning in retreat about decisions we did or didn’t make “back there, back then.” 

Sometimes looking back on past decisions can be helpful. With a little perspective, we can make distinctions that are useful going forward. We can understand what we were feeling and what we needed in ways that weren’t possible at the time. 

But it’s real easy to get stuck looking backward. 

Some— not all, but some— of trauma recovery is about understanding what happened to us and how it affected us. 

Some— not all, but some— of trauma recovery can involve looking back and piecing together memories or timelines from or past. 

But that work, which we call “trauma processing,” isn’t what moves us forward. 

There’s only so much mileage we’re ever going to get from looking backward. 

No matter how thoroughly we understand or come to terms with what happened to us “back there, back then,” we STILL have to intelligently manage this moment and this next decision in order to move our recovery forward. 

Your mileage may vary— but I find this enormously encouraging. 

It means that, even if I didn’t manage my last moment all that well, or even if I regret the last decision I made, I have a fresh opportunity with this moment, and this next decision. 

It means that my trauma recovery will never, can never, be defined by any moment or decision in the past— by any moment or decision that I no longer have any say over. 

The critics and skeptics of trauma informed and trauma focused work truly don’t understand trauma recovery if they think that trauma work focuses or fixates on the past. Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Authentic trauma recovery is informed by the past and realistically accounts for our past wounds— but it emphatically, unambiguously focuses on the present and the future. 

No survivor works their trauma recovery because we have any delusion about having a better past. 

We work our recovery to salvage and shape our future. 

Make no mistake: focusing on the present and future can be hard for trauma survivors. The present often sucks. The future seems hopeless. Focusing on this moment or this next decision can seem pointless or overwhelming. 

But, as it turns out, a lot of this “recovery” thing involves pushing forward with things that can feel pointless or overwhelming in the moment— but which are recovery supporting in our overall arc. 

Don’t get up in your head about having “wasted” a past moment. 

Don’t beat yourself up for having made a not-great decision. 

Learn what you can from both of them— but remember: no past moment or past decision can define or derail your recovery. 

The most important moment in your trauma recovery is this moment. 

The most crucial decision in your recovery is this next teeny, tiny micro decision. 

This moment and this next decision are opportunities to turn it all around— or to build upon what you’ve already created. 

If you’re reading this, you have the opportunity to live a recovery consistent moment and make a recovery supporting decision— right here, right now. 

And I, personally, believe you’re gonna do it. 

(Even if you don’t— there’s another moment and another choice point coming right up.)

drglenndoyle

Just do your best. That’s enough.

Are you doing your best? Then you’re doing enough. Really. 

Your trauma conditioning, however, is likely giving you sh*t— telling you, over and over again, that you’re “not doing enough.” 

Not doing “good enough.” 

Not doing whatever you’re doing “fast enough.” 

Your trauma conditioning is likely trying to keep you from acknowledging your wins or any kind of progress, because it’s not “enough.” 

All of which is just the appetizer for your trauma conditioning’s real message, its take home message: that you, yourself, aren’t “enough.” 

Not good enough, Not smart enough. Not attractive enough. Not tough enough. 

Over and over again, Trauma Brain is gonna tell us how we’re inadequate. 

Trauma Brain is real good at coming up with lists of ways we’re “obviously,” “clearly” inadequate. 

It’s real important we remember that, no matter how persuasive Trauma Brain can be, it’s definitely not “objective.” 

Trauma Brain always has an agenda: to make us feel like garbage, usually by exhaustively listing all the ways we’re falling short in all the domains we care about. 

Remember what Trauma Brain is: it’s the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers. We heard them so often growing up— and, not infrequently, our bullies and abusers were some of the most important, most relatively powerful people in our lives. 

It would have been impossible to NOT have internalized those voices. 

Those voices, of our bullies and abusers, can be loud, they can be persuasive, they can be cutting, they can be overwhelming. 

But it’s real important to remember what they are not: they are NOT the voices of reality. 

All Trauma Brain knows how to do is criticize. 

All Trauma Brain knows how to do is mock. 

Trauma Brain does not have any kind of objective take on whether we are “trying hard enough,” or whether we, as human beings existing in the world, are fundamentally “enough.” Trauma Brain is always going to say “nah” to those questions. 

But here’s the thing: you are. 

You are doing enough. 

You are trying hard enough. 

And you are, fundamentally, enough. 

Do you still have things to learn? Sure. So do I. 

Do you still have trauma recovery tools to develop? Sure. So do I. 

But neither you nor I can get sucked into this thing where we deride what we’re doing now as “not enough.” 

If you are trying, that’s all that matters. 

Yes, it might be a sh*t show at the moment. But if you’re trying, you’re doing it right. 

Yes, you might be exhausted. But if you’re trying, you’re doing enough. 

Yes, recovery might be frustrating and confusing and counterintuitive. But that’s a recovery thing, not a “you” thing. 

I believe you when you say you are trying. 

All I need you to do is try. 

All I need you to do, is your best. 

I promise you: if you work your recovery and commit to being kind to yourself no matter what, amazing things will happen. Things you can’t even imagine right now. Things Trauma Brain wants you to believe aren’t possible. 

All of this pays off. 

All of this all work out. 

Just do your best. 

That’s enough. 

Really. 

drglenndoyle

Recovery and “control.”

One of the big reasons I struggled with both trauma and addiction recovery for so long was, I absolutely hated feeling controlled— much like the vast majority of trauma survivors out there. 

Feeling controlled, or coerced, or otherwise “made” to do something, is a very common, very serious trigger for many survivors. 

For some of us, the reason for this is pretty straightforward: we’ve had experiences in our past where we were forced to do things that were painful or we didn’t want to do. 

Many abuse survivors have experience with pathological narcissists in our lives— so we know first hand what it’s like for every interaction with someone to be overtly or subtly coercive or manipulative. 

For other survivors, our aversion to feeling controlled or forced has to do with the fact that we feel the overwhelming need to BE in control of a situation— because that’s the only way we can enforce our perfectionistic standards on ourselves. 

That happens when you grow up conditioned to believe you and you performance need to be “perfect” to avoid punishment or shame. 

For still other survivors, feeling controlled triggers a whole constellation of feelings and reactions connected to our conviction that awful, painful things are always just around the corner. 

Feeling controlled plugs right into our sense of helplessness and hopelessness that we can possibly avoid or mitigate the awful, painful things that are surely coming— and that can lead us to panic or despair. 

For most of us, it’s a combination of all of these things. 

Trauma survivors’ struggles with feeling controlled comes out in a number of ways— some of them pretty overt, others kind of subtle. 

I can personally attest that trauma survivors’ control issues often come out in workplace settings, where we’re expected to follow directions and defer to our bosses and supervisors. 

It’s not that we don’t understand this is a reasonable expectation in the workplace— it’s that required, enforced submission triggers the hell out of us, even IF it’s a “reasonable expectation.” 

I personally am the poster child for subtle, often self-sabotaging rebellion in the workplace as a reaction to feeling controlled. 

Another very common way trauma survivors’ control issues play out is in relationships. 

We know that relationships come with “rules,” either explicit or implicit— but even if we really like a relationship or a relationship partner, we can often struggle to conform our behavior to the “rules” of even the best relationship. 

(This can lead to heartache and the assumption that we don’t value the relationship— when the truth is, our errant behavior had everything to do with an instinctive aversion to feeling trapped or controlled, and virtually nothing to do with our partner.)

Another huge way some trauma survivors’ control issues play out is in our vulnerability to addiction. 

We just do not do well with being told we “can’t” have a substance or engage in a behavior— even if that substance or behavior is observably destroying our life. 

What’s important for you to know is that struggling with feeling controlled, coerced, or trapped is a symptom of trauma. It’s not you being “difficult.” It’s not you being “irrational.” It’s not you being “immature.” 

Yes, we are responsible for our behaviors— but we can only be truly accountable for them if we understand the role trauma trauma responses, notably “fight” and “flight,” play when it comes to our relationship with control. 

If we understand our behaviors, and meet them with compassion, patience, and realism, we give ourselves the best shot at influencing how we feel and what we do in ways that are consistent with our goals and values. 

It was a game changer when I, personally, realized: recovery is not about “submitting” to anyone else’s control or expectation. 

Both trauma and addiction recovery are actually about setting boundaries with ourselves— which, as it turns out? Is the only way we become truly free. 

Breathe; blink; focus. 

drglenndoyle

Don’t believe what they told you.

You are not stupid. And the most important people in your life shouldn’t have made you feel that way. 

How do I know that you’re not stupid? After all, I probably don’t know most of the people reading this.

Yeah, I may not know you personally. But let me tell you what I do know. 

I do know that many survivors of complex trauma come through our experiences believing we are “stupid”— very often because we were told this, fairly directly, by important people in our lives. 

What we need to understand is that, very often, those people didn’t tell or insinuate to us that we’re stupid because of anything having to do with our actual intelligence. 

They did it because making us feel stupid was an excellent way to make us feel unworthy, and to get us to distrust our judgment.

And making us feel unworthy and untrustworthy to ourselves came in very handy when trying to demoralize and control us. 

Most of what our abusers and bullies told us, about us, was designed to demoralize and control us. 

Many of us came through childhood believing things about ourselves and applying standards t ourselves we would’t dream of foisting on to anyone else. 

The fact, is, I don’t necessarily know you’re smarter than average— again, I don’t personally know most of the people reading this blog— but I do know that many complex trauma survivors arrive in adulthood erroneously believing they suck. 

It’s not just that being told we’re stupid is panful. 

It’s that being told and treated like we’re stupid by the people who should have had our back, who should have been in our corner, who, by rights, should have been our biggest cheerleaders, inflicts a very specific wound on survivors. 

Abuse and neglect are always harmful— but when we’re talking about long term consequences, who was inflicting the abuse or neglect upon us really matters. 

If just anybody calls us stupid, we may or may not be particularly reactive to it. 

But if the people who “should” have our back consistently treat us like we’re stupid, what are we supposed to conclude about our actual intelligence or capabilities? 

We don’t form a positive, realistic self-concept out of nowhere. 

We first develop self-esteem by modeling the “esteem” in which others in our life seem to hold us, most notably by their words and behavior. 

So many people don’t understand: complex trauma is not just about the impact of painful events— it’s also about the opportunities we missed to form a stable, positive sense of ourselves. 

Many people don’t get that it’s not necessarily trauma itself that makes us hate and doubt ourselves— it’s the fact that having to cope with trauma after trauma in our early years leaves precious little time or bandwidth to discover and develop who we are. 

A main reason complex trauma is so devastating is that it interrupts developmental tasks that are really, really important to us as we’re growing and learning about ourselves and the world. 

We’re not born feeling “worthy” (or “unworthy,” for that matter); we need to be taught whether we have worth, whether we “deserve” good things, whether we are capable of learning and growing and succeeding. 

When, growing up, we lack that assurance— or, worse, when we grow up around adults who communicate how “stupid” or “dramatic” or otherwise unworthy we are— that’s what we internalize. 

Then we struggle to connect how we’re feeling to any specific “trauma”— because it’s had to comprehend that the “trauma” that so harmed us was just our everyday lives and everyday relationships. 

You are not “stupid.” 

The fact that you were made to feel “stupid” says much more about the people and institutions you grew up in and around than it does about you. 

Part of your recovery work is accepting the fact that they were wrong about you. 

And, as odd as it may seem, the guy with the blog on the internet who may not even know you, is actually right about you. 

drglenndoyle

The “rhythm & waves” model of trauma processing.

I wish trauma processing was as simple as, we deal with something, and we never have to deal with it again. 

But the truth is, in trauma recovery we often find ourselves returning to the same memory or the same circumstance from our past, again and again. 

It’s not that we never “get over” certain things. 

It’s that, as we come to terms with what happened to us and how it impacted us, we often uncover layers of feeling and meaning that we were previously not aware of— but which were affecting us nonetheless. 

Something we trauma survivors know every well is that, often, the most hurtful aspects of certain events aren’t the most obvious aspects. 

Often, we haven’t really had the safety or stability to really dive into what something meant to us or how it affected us— and we’re surprised, as we start to really get into it, exactly how and why we were hurt or harmed by it. 

It’s hard to “get over” something when we don’t fully appreciate how it hurt us. 

It’s hard to “move on” from an event the meaning of which we haven’t truly digested. 

Very often our nervous system has been in such a state of dysrgulaton for so long, that it’s been basically impossible to really explore certain feelings or memories— we’ve been left with virtually no choice but to avoid or dissociate them in order to stay sort of functional. 

My experience of trauma processing is that it usually happens in waves. 

That first wave will hit, and it’ll be powerful, and we’ll think, man, that was hard— but at least it’s over. 

Then, we do a little bit of work shoring up our safety and stability. We regain our balance— just in time for the next wave to hit. 

The next wave that hits isn’t quite like that first wave;  may be as powerful (or more powerful, or maybe less powerful), but it hits different. 

That’s because our recovery work has equipped us to recognize and work through different aspects of the trauma we’re processing— aspects that we couldn’t process in the first “wave.”

Then, once again, we regain our balance. We back off; we reinforce our safety and stability; we allow things to settle in our nervous system. 

Then the next wave hits— with still different things to process than either of the previous two waves. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Understand: with each “wave” of trauma processing we do on a particular event or circumstance, it’s not that we’re retreading the same ground. In fact, far from it. 

What we’re doing when we process our trauma in layers is getting closer and closer to the fundamental truths of how and why it f*cked us up to begin with. 

Many people who have never experienced trauma think it only f*cks with us on the level of “some things really suck.” 

It’s true that some things really suck— but no survivor I’ve ever met has been struggling just because of that fact. 

Processing trauma isn’t about coming to terms with the fact that “some things really suck.” We all know that. I don’t know a trauma survivor who hasn’t been deeply aware and accepting of this fact. 

Processing trauma is about understanding and coming to terms with how those things that really suck, have affected us in profoundly personal ways. 

It’s about coming to terms specifically with the significant losses that those “really sucky” things have burdened us with. 

We can’t do that all at once. 

We can only do it in waves. 

But the good news about that is, waves come and go. It’s not just that we “can’t” do all of this processing at once; it’s that we don’t HAVE to. 

Waves, by definition, are rhythmic. They give us the chance to regain our footing and catch ou breath before we have to deal with the next one. 

Realistic, intelligent trauma processing is best conceptualized as happening in waves. 

And successfully navigating trauma processing is all about making hat rhythm work for us, rather than against us. 

drglenndoyle

Because we feel guilty doesn’t mean a decision was bad.

I’ll spoil the suspense: we’re going to feel guilty about a lot of things. 

This isn’t necessarily because we have anything to feel particularly guilty about. 

This is because enduring trauma has the impact of making us feel that everything is our fault— and everything is our responsibility. 

I’ve worked with trauma survivors who have literally described feeling guilty for the weather. No joke— more than a few. 

Many trauma survivors are conditioned to feel particular guilt about decisions we make— especially decisions we make in regards to self-protection and self-care. 

Many of us grew up conditioned to believe we deserved nether protection NOR care— and we sure as hell had absolutely no right to extend OURSELVES protection or care. 

Many of us were conditioned to believe that boundaries were “mean”— or that the need to set limits with someone simply meant that we weren’t “tough enough.” 

We have the physical, emotional, and behavioral responses we do because of what we believe things mean— and if we believe that we have no right to set boundaries or otherwise take care of ourselves, we’re going to be reluctant, maybe even unable, to take vital steps toward self-protection and self-care. 

It’s not our fault. We didn’t choose the attitudes and beliefs that were conditioned in us. That conditioning is a symptom of what we’ve been through— and the rule in trauma recovery is, we do not shame or push ourselves for symptoms. 

Our abusers and bullies “installed” certain patterns of thinking, feeling, and reacting in us— and guilt very often was their tool of choice to do so. 

So many of the decisions we have to make in trauma recovery are so hard in the first place— but that layer of guilt makes those decisions exponentially harder. 

Guilt makes us fear exposure and punishment. 

Guilt makes us believe that we must have done something contrary to our values, or the values of society at large— that we’re a “bad” person. Otherwise why would we be feeling guilty, hmm? 

We are going to feel guilt about a lot of really important, really necessary decisions and boundaries— but it’s real important we clearly understand: feeling guilt about a decision does not mean it is a bad decision. 

Very often what it actually means is that we’ve run afoul of our trauma conditioning, and old guardrails are kicking in. 

A specific example of what I’m talking about often happens when survivors have chosen to cut off contact, temporary or permanently, with abusive people or institutions (such as a church or community). 

In my experience, very few people take the decision to go “no contact” lightly— and, even if we’re quite sure that we need to do it in order to bolster our safety or stability, we still feel guilty and anxious about it. 

You need to know a few things about those feelings. For starters, you need to know those feelings are normal— it’d be weird to NOT feel guilty and anxious when you’re setting firm boundaries, such as “no contact,” with people or institutions that have been in your life for years. 

You also need to know that those feelings of guilt and anxiety don’t mean you’ve made a bad or unnecessary decision. 

Because a decision is hard doesn’t mean it’s wrong. 

Reinforcing and living our trauma recovery very often means sticking with decisions we know we had to make— but we hated making, and we hate sticking to. 

It takes courage. 

It takes toughness. 

Fortunately, trauma survivors are literally the most courageous, toughest subset of human beings I have ever met. 

This— sticking with our Recovery Supporting Decisions (RSD’s) even when it’s hard, even when Trauma Brain is trying to f*ck with us, even when every scrap of old conditioning is making us feel like sh*t about it— is where the rubber meets the road in recovery. 

You are up to this moment. 

You are up to this task. 

I guarantee it. 

drglenndoyle

Our difficulties with emotional regulation are not our fault– but learning emotional regulation is our responsibility.

We’re not born knowing how to regulate our emotions. 

We have to be taught. Trained. Supported.

When it comes to what most of us were taught about how to manage our feelings, many of us are left at kind of a loss. 

We were told versions of “suck it up” a lot. 

We were told, directly and indirectly, that crying was certainly NOT an acceptable way to manage any feeling. 

We were told that “managing” feelings meant, basically, not being reactive to them. That not showing our feelings was tantamount to being “mature.” 

Mind you: we were given precious, precious little guidance or support in actually managing our feelings. 

We were, essentially, told to “figure it out.” 

Some of us were told “figure it out— or else.” 

Or else what? We’d be shamed. We’d be punished. We’d be abandoned, maybe.

“Suck it up” isn’t actually an emotional management strategy. 

What does “suck it up” entail, exactly? No one seems to know. We just know when we’ve failed to “suck it up”— usually because we’re crying. 

It’s not your fault that no one taught you how to regulate your feelings. 

Those humans who did learn to successfully regulate their emotions are usually those humans who had kind, supportive adults around them who took care to talk them through tough moments. 

When we have kind, supportive adults around us who are willing to talk us through tough moments, with presence and realism, that’s what we internalize. We learn to model them. We build a skill. 

When we do not have those kind, patient, emotionally intelligent adults around us to talk us through tough moments, what do we internalize? 

Impatience. Shame. The inclination to belittle ourselves when we struggle with something we’re not familiar with or that we find overwhelming. 

What we need to understand and accept is that struggling to regulate our emotions, when we didn’t have the guidance, support, and safety to learn and practice that skillset, is normal. 

It’s not our “weakness.” 

It’s not our “brokenness.” 

It’s not our “immaturity.” 

How were we supposed to learn how to do something we never saw done? 

How were we we supposed to get good at something we never had the safety to practice? 

Emotional regulation is one of the most complex tasks human beings face— and it’s a particularly complex task when we’re dealing with the particularly intense, particularly painful feelings experienced by trauma survivors. 

I’ll say it again: we’re not born knowing how to do that. 

When we fail to receive training and support in learning how to do that— when our experiences TRYING to do that are met with scorn— not only do we NOT learn how to regulate our emotions…but we DO learn that the entire project of emotional regulation is fraught. 

We develop anxiety around it. 

Eventually we get in the habit of avoiding emotional regulation altogether— that is to say, we get in the habit of dissociating. 

Yeah. That’s how that happens. 

Realistic emotional regulation starts with refusing to beat ourselves up for not being great at it. 

It starts with accepting emotional regulation as something we need to, and can, learn as adults. 

It starts with meeting our struggles with emotional regulation with compassion and patience— because poor emotional regulation is a symptom of complex trauma, and the rule in trauma recovery is that we meet symptoms with compassion and patience. 

Actually, make that “radical compassion” and “infinite patience.” 

Our difficulties with emotional regulation are not our fault. 

Learning effective emotional regulation IS our responsibility— which is why we can’t afford to waste time with shaming and punishing ourselves. 

Easy does it. 

drglenndoyle

Your recovery is more important.

Your recovery is more important. 

More important than what just happened. 

More important than what happened back then. 

Your recovery is more important than what they say. 

More important than what they think. 

Even more important than what they may or may not do. 

Your recovery is more important than what you feel. I know that may sound strange, but often we might feel as if we can’t do this, as if we don’t deserve this, as if there’s no point to this. 

That’s all trauma conditioning BS (Belief Systems)— and your recovery is more important than trauma BS. 

Your recovery is more important than your grief. I know that might sound strange, too, but we very often experience our grief as overwhelming, and get the idea in our head that we can’t continue on in recovery because our grief is so overwhelming. 

Your grief is important. Your grief matters. Your grief needs to be acknowledged and honored and mourned. 

But your recovery is still more important. 

Your recovery is more important than all of these things, because it’s your recovery that enables you to functionally care about any of these things. 

Your recovery is more important than anything that might come along trying to derail your recovery— and, believe me, there will absolutely be people and events that are going to try, effortfully, to derail your recovery. 

They will try to convince you you “have no choice” but to put your recovery on hold. Put it on the back burner. 

That’s simply not true. 

I don’t care what the person or event is that is trying to convince you to disrespect your recovery — it’s wrong. 

You don’t “have to” pause or give up on your recovery for anybody or anything. 

Your recovery does not take bandwidth away from any relationship or any project you care about. 

That said, your recovery absolutely will take bandwidth away from certain projects and relationships— namely, projects and relationships that are detrimental to your authenticity, safety, or stability. 

Yeah. Your recovery is not consistent with THOSE things— and that’s the good news, actually. 

Your recovery is more important than your past. 

Your recovery is more important than your fear. 

Your fear is real, and, much like your grief, it deserves to be acknowledged with respect and clarity. 

But there is no fear that is worth abandoning your recovery over. 

There is no news that is worth abandoning your recovery over. 

There is no loss, or potential loss, that is worth abandoning your recovery over. 

Even if you’re looking at losing the most important, most treasured, most loved thing in your world, that loss is not worth abandoning your recovery over. 

To the contrary: that loss or potential loss is worth honoring and maintaining your recovery over. 

No reason or excuse or heartache is a “good” reason to abandon your recovery. 

There s no NEED to abandon your recovery. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

It’s a long walk back to Eden. Don’t sweat the small stuff. 

drglenndoyle

The power of recovery supporting rituals.

The quality of our trauma recovery is the quality of our recovery supporting rituals (RSR’s). 

Rituals are things we do every day, usually in some structured way. 

Our trauma recovery is not going to succeed or fail based on what we do every now and then. 

Truth is, we can have some pretty rough days in trauma recovery, and still be on an upward trajectory. 

But it’s also the case that interspersing the occasional recovery supporting behavior into a regular behavioral “diet” of recovery interfering behaviors won’t amount to much. 

If we’re serious and realistic about trauma recovery, we need recovery rituals. 

Your specific trauma recovery rituals are going to be unique to you. The things I do every day may or may not support you in your recovery. 

A big task of trauma recovery is getting curious and specific about about what habits of thought, focus, and behavior actually support our recovery, and turning these into rituals. 

Remember: in trauma recovery, the name of the game is rewiring our nervous system. 

We’ve been conditioned to think, feel, believe, and do certain things that, right now, are inconsistent with our recovery. 

If we we want to think, feel, believe, and do things that will support our recovery, we’re going to be up against the power of conditioning. The power of programming. 

Our nervous system isn’t going to like that we’re trying to change those particular neural pathways. Our nervous system never likes when we try to rewire conditioned neural pathways. 

Our nervous system would prefer we leave it the hell alone, to function the way it’s been conditioned to function, thank you very much. 

Interrupting old neural pathways that make make us vulnerable to trauma responses, and rerouting those neural pathways to very different places entails making making changes in the physical architecture, the physical structure, of our nervous system. 

We don’t do that by doing a different thing once or twice. 

We do that by doing a different thing over, and over, and over again. 

The whole process is similar to what happens when we strength train in the gym. At first, the whole process hurts. 

Our body would very much prefer we let it continue on not lifting those heavy weights, thank you very much. 

Strength training is painful because we are literally changing the physical structure of our body, and bodies resist being changed like that. 

The only way it’s going to work is to make going to the gym and lifting those weights a habit. A ritual. 

No one who ever built significant strength in their body did so by strength training every once in awhile, or when they felt like it. 

Similarly, no one who ever realistically, sustainably recovered from trauma did so by work their recovery every once in awhile, or when they felt like it. 

I know. I hate all this, too. 

I would much rather just go with the flow, and let my mood dictate my behavior. 

Many of us who grew up coerced or controlled get resentful when we’re told we “have to” do anything. 

Here’s the thing: none of us has to do, well, anything. 

We are completely free to keep living the way we’ve been living. 

But we are also free to decide that the cost of not working our recovery has gotten way too high. 

We’re free to choose the pain and hassle of recovery— of mental and spiritual “strength training”— over the pain and hassle of trauma responses and symptoms. 

If you care about it, ritualize it. 

If it works, ritualize it. 

If it’s essential to your trauma recovery, ritualize it. 

Rituals are how realistic trauma recovery is constructed.