drglenndoyle

It’s on us.

No one is coming to save us.

I know I don’t need to tell you that. You probably know.

But sometimes I need to remind myself.

I find it useful to remind myself of the fact, because for a long time I had this fantasy someone would just appear to save me— from my trauma symptoms, from my addictions, from…everything.

That fantasy kept me trapped.

I remember at one time resentfully spitting at my therapist, “I’m drowning here, and you’re describing the water.” (It’s a famous line from the old movie “As Good As It Gets.”)

I was furious, having realized he wouldn’t save me.

Being a trauma survivor, I assumed that the reason no one was coming to save me was because I was unloved.

Or maybe unloveable.

Just not worth saving, I guess.

I clung on to the fantasy of being saved, because I figured if someone DID come to save me, somehow, some way, it would mean I WAS worthy, I WAS loved.

It would be the only way to be sure, really.

Now I know I was setting myself up.

The reality is, no one is coming to save us, not because we’re unlovable or unworthy— but because no one CAN save us.

We have to save ourselves.

No one can reshape our self talk for us. We have to do it.

No one can recondition our patterns of mental focus for us. We have to do it.

No one can manage our breathing and physiology for us. We have to do it.

Not because we’re unlovable or unworthy, but because, quite literally, no one else CAN engage those trauma recovery tools for us.

No one CAN commit FOR us to not attack or shame ourselves.

No one CAN commit FOR us to not harm or kill ourselves.

No one CAN commit FOR us to not relate to ourselves like our abusers and bullies did.

The irony is, once we take radical responsibility for saving ourselves from the inside out? THEN we can actually take advantage of whatever external supports we do have.

I know now I couldn’t take full advantage of my therapist’s skill UNTIL I had made the decision to save myself, no matter what.

(I also now understand that my little tantrum at him was part of that process— because, God dammit, I was angry that I had to save myself. Some days I still am.)

No one is coming to save us. Not from CPTSD, not from DID, not from self-harm, not even from suicide.

It’s on us.

And, as it turns out, that’s the good news.

Because we absolutely can save ourselves, by developing tools we already have.

I’m going to get sh*t from some readers for saying that, but I don’t care: it’s true.

You and I have versions of the tools we need. We may need to develop and strengthen them, which is what trauma recovery is all about, but saving ourselves will not require from us anything we can’t do.

To quote the Beatles, “there’s nothing you can do that can’t be done.”

No one is coming to save us.

But everyone who has ever written a book or a song or a poem about making it through hard times has handed us a tool.

drglenndoyle

Parentification is coercion and neglect. No exceptions.

Anybody who has children knows they can be incredible emotional supports, mostly by accident, mostly in ways that would be impossible to engineer even if one wanted to.

But it’s not the job of kids to be emotional supports for adults.

And kids shouldn’t be put in that position— or the position of doing any job or fulfilling any role that actually requires an adult.

At the heart of the whole thing is consent.

Kids can’t meaningfully consent to being emotional supports for adults— let alone taking on other adult roles.

They couldn’t understand what’s involved if they wanted to.

That’s not to disrespect any children— of course there are remarkably bright and industrious kids out there.

But kids lack the neural wiring to wrap their heads around adult roles.

I don’t care if a kid is an “old soul.”

I don’t care if a kid has triple the raw IQ of their parents.

I don’t care if a kid fervently believes in their own ability to take on an adult role or do an adult job: it’s not for them.

And we, as adults, need to make sure kids are not put in that position.

There are many people reading this who are well aware, who know by experience, what happens when kids are put in the position of being emotional support for adults, or coerced into being “little adults” in other ways.

Yes, I said “coerced.” Because that’s what it is.

Some parents are going to have feelings about this. They’re going to make the case that what they coerced their kids into wasn’t harmful. They’re going to say that it depends on the kid, that there are smart and mature kids out there who can handle it.

One, being smart and mature, even adult-like— in intellect, appearance, or otherwise— doesn’t mean a kid is able to take on adult roles.

Two, adults and kids are not operating on level playing fields, power wise.

Not only are kids incapable of taking on those adult jobs and roles, they are incapable of consenting to do so, due to that power differential. Especially so if the adults in question are their parents, caretaker, or other important people in their lives, such as teachers or clergy.

It harms kids to take on adult roles— especially repeatedly, especially in relationships where refusing to take on those roles is awkward or impossible due to the power dynamic.

Why am I writing about this on my trauma page?

Because more than a few people reading this were harmed by the coercion I’m describing.

Raise your hand if you were ever described as an “old soul.” “Mature for your age.”

Raise your hand if it was up to you to take care of your parents.

I understand a certain percentage of survivors reading this are going to say I’m overstating things, that what happened to them wasn’t abuse or neglect, that they were capable of being the emotional or logistical support their parents needed at the time.

I’m not going to tell you what your truth is.

But I am going to tell you, many survivors of this specific kind of neglect, parentification, don’t register it as neglect— but they are impacted by it all the same.

That “fawn” response? The people pleasing, the perfectionism, the anxiety, the guilt?

The vulnerability to relationship conflict, that “freeze” response when things get tough between you and your partner?

Yeah, none of that comes out of nowhere.

Parentification is coercion and neglect. I don’t care who you are or who your parents were.

And by the way, coercing kids to be “adults” in certain spheres, like emotional support, kicks open the door to rationalizing kids fulfilling other “needs” for adults, with the same arguments for it all. “Some kids are mature enough to handle it,” blah blah blah.

Kids deserve better.

You deserved better.

drglenndoyle

The stupid sh*t “they” say.

It’s easy for other people to say “let it go.”

Or “don’t let it bother you.”

Or “leave the past in the past.”

But trauma survivors often feel immense shame that it’s not quite so easy for us.

We feel we SHOULD be able to just “let it go.”

We wish we COULD just “not let it bother us.”

And we’re desperate for someone to show us how to “leave the past in the past.”

But the reality is, no trauma survivor is making a choice to run any of those patterns.

Those patterns were conditioned into us. Programmed into us. Sometimes beaten into us, quite literally.

People who suggest that it’s a “choice” to just “let it go” are implying that we’re suffering because we’re “choosing” to “hang on” to our past or our pain.

Conditioning is not a choice.

Trauma responses are not choices.

CPTSD and DID are not “choices.”

If we had “choices” in these matters, we would choose something different, every single time.

Most of us don’t even realize we’ve been conditioned in these pattern soft believing, thinking, feeling, and behaving.

Rather, we think it’s just “how we are.”

We assume the way we’ve been experiencing the world is just our experience of the world— and we can’t imagine it being different.

Which is exactly what Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our abusers and bullies, wants us to think.

The truth is, we can recondition our patterns of believing, thinking, feeling, and behaving— but, realistically, it’s going to take both time and some specific tools and support.

It’s not as simple as making a one time decision to “let it go.”

It’s not as simple as just deciding “something doesn’t bother us.”

And it’s nowhere near as simple as “leaving the past in the past.”

The vast majority of trauma survivors I’ve ever met would happily let go of the past— if only the past would let go of us, of our nervous and endocrine systems.

All of that stuff is going to be easy for other people to say.

But remember, the stuff they say has zero to do with the reality of your situation or your needs.

Rather, the stuff people say is about their projection, their biases, their fantasies, their misconceptions.

Your project is rewiring yourself, reconditioning yourself, building sustainable habits and routines and tools that will realistically impact how you feel and function.

Don’t let their stupid sound bites distract or discourage or shame you.

Stay on target.

Breathe. Blink. Focus.

drglenndoyle

It was not on you to change them. Even if you wanted to.

Something many CPTSD survivors have in common is our strong desire to fix things we couldn’t possibly fix if we tried. 

You know, like our families of origin. 

Something many CPTSD survivors also have in common is the steadfast belief that the only reason we “couldn’t” fix those things is because we didn’t try hard enough. 

Again and again, we survivors tend to blame ourselves. 

I’m not talking about taking realistic responsibility. 

I’m talking about constantly erring on the side of assuming that it was our fault things weren’t different in our family or environment growing up.

The difficult truth is, most of us did not choose the environment in which we grew up. 

We certainly didn’t choose the parents to whom we were born. 

And if that environment or those parents were f*cked up, there was realistically very little— in fact, usually nothing— we could do about it. 

This is true even if we fell into “parentified” roles in our family— being expected to function as adults, despite the fact we were children. 

This is overwhelmingly common among CPTSD survivors. 

Despite the actual, literal fact we were kids, we might have been expected to care for either the adults or other kids in our environment— often, both. 

And the fact that we could kind of pull it off might have f*cked with our head about fault and responsibility. 

I have ment so many survivors who, even if they can concede the fact that they were expected to be “adults” in their childhood environment, struggle to see the harm it caused them. 

They truly think they were the one kid that didn’t affect. The one kid who could or did pull it off. 

The fact that you were put in the position of being a caretaker or problem solver for your family growing up doesn’t mean that level of responsibility was appropriate. 

And it certainly doesn’t mean that you had the power the meaningfully change how your family or environment operated back then. 

You were a kid. 

Your family and the environment were happening TO you. 

That’s not an “excuse;” that’s reality. 

Here, now, as an adult working your trauma recovery, you’re working to be proactive and accountable— to no longer let life happen TO you, but rather FOR you. 

But that’s hard when you’ve been made to feel, over and over again, that you “failed” to change what you “should” have been able to change in the past. 

I truly believe that if we could have changed it, we would have. 

If we didn’t, it’s because we didn’t— and by the way, that’s not weird, considering the fact that we were kids. 

Forgive yourself. Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know, and not being able to do what you couldn’t do, back then. 

I understand that what I’m saying right now is going to make a subset of survivors roll their eyes. It’s a little touchy feely for some. 

What I need you to understand is, that’s as much of a CPTSD symptom as anything else— specifically, an artifact of trauma conditioning. 

It was not on you to change them. 

It was not on you to change that world. 

You couldn’t have, if you wanted to. 

And that’s not a “failure,” in any sense of the word. 

Sad— but not a “failure.” 

drglenndoyle

Working our trauma recovery makes us less vulnerable to manipulation.

Working your trauma recovery will make you less easy to control. 

Why? 

Because working your trauma is going to require you to get real clear and serious about who you are— who you choose to be, not who they told you you were “supposed” to be. 

For most of our lives, we try to operate on that basis: being who we were told we were, or who we were “supposed” to be. 

Our earliest self-judgments are us comparing who we were to who our parents or teachers said we “should” be. 

In the best possible world, childhood and adolescence are about breaking free of those ideas, and defining our own identity. 

But what happens if our childhood and adolescence was mostly comprised of us trying to stay alive, physically or emotionally? 

What happens if we lack the safety and support to do what we’d have to do to figure that out? 

Speaking for myself, my childhood and adolescence was mostly spent just trying to not hurt (which, ironically, often involved literally, physically hurting myself). 

I spent much of my childhood and adolescence— and young adulthood, and not-so-young adulthood, for that matter— trying desperately to manage emotional states that I didn’t understand, and didn’t have much help in understanding. 

Figuring out who I really was, independent of the parental expectations I was constantly falling short of, wasn’t really on my radar screen as a project. 

I was too busy hating myself for not being whoever I needed to be to keep my family and my peers from bullying me. 

Which is to say, when I finally came around to understanding that my life had to be about working a recovery, I had some work to do in learning who I was and what I was all about. 

As long as we’re unclear or conflicted about that, though— as I was, and as you may be— we are incredibly vulnerable to manipulation. 

This has nothing to do with intelligence. It has everything to do with unmet emotional needs. 

When we grow up abused or neglected, we often have at least one “part” of us that would do anything for validation and safety. 

We feel the instability of never having had real safety or support, and that makes us vulnerable to “fawn” flavored responses that will have us people pleasing like our life depends on it (because “part” of us might honestly believe that our life DOES depend on gaining others’ approval or affection). 

As long as “fawn” is a central organizing principle of our psychology, we are vulnerable to manipulation. 

We’re vulnerable to false promises. 

We’re vulnerable to love bombing. 

We’re vulnerable to young, lonely “parts” of ourselves taking the wheel, especially when it comes to relationship decisions. 

Working our trauma recovery doesn’t immediately solve this problem— but it puts compassionately, realistically managing that “fawn” trauma response squarely at the center of our focus. 

Proving to ourselves, again and again, that we WILL be there for ourselves; that we DO have our own back; that we ARE on our own side— that’s what progressively insulates us against manipulation. 

We are vulnerable as long as “they” have something— approval— that we really, really want. 

We may still want approval— but the self-esteem work we do every day in trauma recovery keeps us from needing it to the point of self-abandonment. 

Yes, the work involved in trauma recovery can be a hassle. 

But it is infinitely less exhausting— and less dangerous— than letting our “fawn” response make our decisions for us.

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

And have your own back today. 

drglenndoyle

“Wallowing?” Nope.

Exactly zero percent of the survivors reading this are “wallowing.” 

I know, that’s what the culture tells us— that we “wallow.” 

Maybe there are trauma survivors out there who “wallow.” But I haven’t met them. 

I have met hundreds of survivors who feel stuck in their past. 

I have met hundreds of survivors who would give literally anything— up to and including their life or safety— to NOT be stuck in their past. 

I have met hundreds of survivors who have seriously thought about giving up on recovery— and/or life— because people in their lives misunderstand them to be “wallowing.” 

Being stuck in depression, or flashbacks, or addiction, is not making a decision to “wallow.” 

“Wallowing” implies we’re not trying to change. But the survivors reading this know how desperately we’ve tried to change, again and again. 

Struggling to change is far more often a “skill” issue than a “will” issue. 

Do you know how few realistic tools our upbringing and culture give us to change deeply entrenched patterns of feeling and functioning like CPTSD? 

Our upbringing and culture give us gems like “suck it up.” 

Or “let it go.” 

Or “get therapy”— which, while it’s often a good idea and a useful tool, is not an immediate cure-all for the deep, complicated injuries of CPTSD. 

What looks like ‘wallowing” is very often exhaustion and/or learned helplessness. 

“Learned helplessness” is what we call it when we’ve tried, and tried, and tried to make a change, but we haven’t been able to (often because haven’t had the necessary tools or support)— so we lose all faith in our ability to change, and quit trying. 

But that’s not a “choice.” 

That’s not “wallowing.” 

People who accuse trauma survivors of “wallowing” in their pain are implying that recovery from CPTSD is largely an attitudinal problem. 

Don’t get me wrong, attitude matters. But believe me when I tell you attitude does not fix flashbacks. 

Attitude does not banish self harm urges or addiction cravings or suicidal ideation. 

CPTSD is not an “attitude problem.” 

If you’re a trauma survivor who has been accused of “wallowing,” you should know that that is not how smart, kind people talk about other peoples’ pain. 

Smart, kind people get interested in what someone who is hurting needs. 

They get interested in what has contributed to what they’re seeing in front of them. 

They understand that, for all we may be able to observe of someone’s behavior on the outside, there are dozens and dozens (and dozens) of internal pain points and influences that we simply cannot see by looking at someone. 

Yes, I too love the fantasy that CPTSD could be fixed by something as simple as an “attitude adjustment” or an admonition to “stop wallowing.” 

But I had to stop believing in fairy tales when I got serious and realistic about trauma recovery. 

Let them wallow in their stupid, superficial ideas about how trauma and recovery work. 

You work your recovery today. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

drglenndoyle

Don’t beat yourself up. Just get back on track.

Don’t beat yourself up. Just get back on track. 

I know, that reaction “shouldn’t” have happened. 

Don’t beat yourself up. Just get back on track. 

I know, you “should” be “better” by now. 

Don’t beat yourself up. Just get back on track. 

I know, “other people had it worse.” 

Don’t beat yourself up. Just get back on track. 

I know, you hate having to even think about this “trauma” or “addiction” or “recovery” stuff. 

Don’t beat yourself up. Just get back on track. 

Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of your abusers and bullies, is going to try to get you to weaponize your “fight” response against yourself. 

It’s probably already tried, am I right? 

But that “fight” response is supposed to keep us safe— and attacking ourselves is the literal opposite of safety. 

Attacking ourselves teaches our nervous system we are not safe with ourselves. That we can’t count on ourselves to have our own back, be on our own side. 

When I say don’t beat yourself up, it’s not just because beating yourself up hurts. 

It’s because that pattern of beating yourself up is going to undermine everything else you try to do in trauma or addiction recovery. 

Plus, we need the energy we’d otherwise spend beatng ourselves up, for the project of getting back on track. 

I understand you’re frustrated. 

I understand you’ve been conditioned to believe you “deserve” punishment. 

I understand part of you is champing at the bit to punish yourself before someone or something comes along and punishes you at a time and in a way you don’t choose. 

It will be uncomfortable to push back against all that. No question.

But don’t beat yourself up. 

Just get back on track. 

Again, and again, and again, and again. 

drglenndoyle

Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.

Listen to me: you do whatever it is you have to do to stay alive. 

F*ck their expectations. 

F*ck their judgments. 

What you have to do to stay alive may not be perfect and it may not be pretty. 

Other people may not understand, and you may have to distance yourself from some of those people, at least for awhile. 

But this isn’t the time for perfectionism. 

This isn’t the time for insisting or expecting that what you have to do to stay alive aligns perfectly with anyone’s idea of what is “acceptable.” 

Just this week I’ve heard multiple stories about what survivors leaned on to stay alive in difficult moments when their trauma was telling them there was no hope and they “had” to kill themselves. 

The stuff that keeps us alive might seem weird to anyone else. 

It might not have anything to do with what happened to us. 

The stuff we do to stay alive may not be part of our recovery indefinitely. I’ve done plenty of stuff for the sake of making it through a rough night, that I could not hold on to long term, because it would end up destroying me just as surely as suicide would. 

Don’t judge or overthink what keeps you alive. 

Just do it. 

And know there is a worldwide community of trauma survivors who do not judge you, either for what you had to do to survive then, or what you have to do to stay alive tonight. 

No shame. No shade. 

Staying alive when you’re under immense pressure to not is the ultimate act of defiance against our trauma. 

And, yes, it can be exhausting. I absolutely understand that. 

And still I’m telling you: stay alive. 

If you’re reading this, consider that you stumbled across it for a reason. Stay alive. 

If you’re reading this, whether or not you have any idea who the hell I am or why you should listen to me: stay. Stay alive, find out, answer those questions. 

If you’re reading this, and you’re angry that I have the balls to ask you to stay without knowing what you’re dealing with, stay alive and express that anger. I’d rather have you pissed at me and telling me all about it than you not here.

I do not have the power to “make” anyone do or not do anything. I wish I did. But nobody does. 

What I can tell you, though, is there are modes and levels you haven’t unlocked yet, and that are unlock-able to you.

Don’t believe me? Stay alive and prove me wrong. 

Do whatever the hell you have to do. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

Stay. 

drglenndoyle

Just…just…just…

“Just get over it.” 

Because it’s supposed to be that easy? 

“Just get past it.” 

Because there’s an obvious path to that? 

“Just let it go.” 

Because we never thought of that? 

You’re going to encounter lots of “helpful” advice when it comes to your trauma symptoms. 

By the way, when I say “trauma symptoms,” I’m not just talking about intrusive memories and flashbacks and nightmares and triggers directly related to our trauma. 

I’m talking about all the many, many (many) forms “fight,” “flight,” “freeze,” “fawn,” and “flop” manifest in our lives. 

It can often be difficult to identify a pattern as a trauma response matching one or more of those “F” reflexes— but once you see it, you can’t un-see it. 

Lashing out and struggling to let an issue drop can be a “fight” response.

Bolting a situation (a date, a conversation, a relationship) can be a “flight” response. 

Laughing at a joke that isn’t funny or you didn’t get can be a “fawn” response. 

Your mind going blank when it’s your turn to speak in a meeting (or at the fast food drive thru) can be a “freeze,” or even a “flop” response. 

We often think of trauma responses as these dramatic, cinematic occurrences, but the reality is more of then are woven into our every day lives and interactions than we realize. 

Maybe that’s why so many people feel so entitled to give us superficial “advice” about them. 

We get told to let an issue go— but we can’t, because we’re not holding on to it for no reason, we’re deep in a “fight” response. 

We get told to talk about our feelings before hitting the “eject” button— but we can’t, because we’re not bolting for no reason, we’re being propelled by a “flight” reflex. 

We get told to just relax and speak— but we can’t because we’re “frozen” or “flopping.” 

We get told to just be ourselves— but we can’t, because the “fawn” response won’t let us. 

Our vulnerability to trauma responses can and does get less intrusive and intense as we work our recovery— specifically, as we improve our emotional regulation and build our self-esteem— but we need to understand that trauma responses are not choices. 

Lets say it again, for those at the back: trauma responses are not choices. 

The fact that trauma responses sometimes don’t look like obvious trauma responses can seem to muddy the waters a little bit around this subject, but in trauma recovery we often need to look closer at our behaviors and needs. 

The superficial “just do (X)” advice handed to us by the muggles usually won’t work— and, more often than not, it’ll hit us as condescending or shaming. 

We unwire and rewire trauma responses by acknowledging the wound they’re connected to, with compassion and patience and realism. 

Don’t let someone get up in your head about how “easy” it should be to “just quit” trauma responding. 

If we could eradicate trauma responses with one big, sweeping decision, to no longer “let” ourselves do that, we absolutely would. We would have by now, in fact. 

We have to stay real and compassionate and present with our symptoms and wounds. 

That’s the realistic way out. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus. 

drglenndoyle

Eh, maybe you ARE “in trouble.”

I don’t, actually, know if you’re “in trouble” with anyone right now. 

I do know that “in trouble” feeling is a CPTSD symptom. 

It may not be part of the official diagnostic criteria, but an overwhelming majority of CPTSD survivors with whom I’ve worked experience it. 

Our brain will jump through all kinds of hoops to convince us we’re “in trouble” (and also that people “hate” us, by the by). 

Even if we can’t think of anything we could possibly be “in trouble” for, Trauma Brain will close that loop by declaring we’re probably in even BIGGER trouble than we thought, and it’s going to be ESPECIALLY bad because it’ll catch us by surprise. 

(CPTSD survivors tend to be ambivalent as hell about surprises, if you didn’t know.) 

And here’s the thing: every now and then someone, knowing about this CPTSD symptom, feeling “in trouble” all the time, will try to comfort us by telling us we’re NOT in trouble. 

But how would they know? 

That’s not just my Trauma Brain talking: I mean it literally, how the hell would they know? 

I’ve been in plenty of trouble in my lifetime. 

One of the reasons why my brain finds it so easy to convince me that I’m CONSTANTLY in trouble is because, growing up, I constantly WAS in trouble. 

Whether I “deserved” to be in trouble all those times, especially growing up, is a different question— and, honestly, not a very relevant one. 

If my father decided I was in trouble, I was in trouble. Whether I “deserved” it wasn’t a question he asked. 

Later, as an adult, I created plenty of personal and professional situations that caused other adults to be irritated or angry with me. 

I’ve lost jobs, I’ve ruined relationships. And it would be absurd for me to assert I didn’t RICHLY deserve at least SOME of those painful experiences. 

My point is, it may not be particularly helpful to tell a trauma survivor who has the “in trouble” thing activated that they’re NOT “in trouble”— because maybe they are, with someone, somewhere. 

So: I have no idea if you’re “in trouble” or not. 

Here’s what I DO know about that “in trouble” feeling: we’re going to feel it, jacked up to 11, whether or not it’s reality based. 

And Trauma Brain, the internalized voices of our bullies and abusers, is going to use that feeling to make the case that we “have” to dissociate, hurt ourselves, maybe even kill ourselves, certainly hate ourselves. 

THAT’S the bullsh*t part of this “in trouble” thing. 

Even if we ARE “in trouble,” self-hate doesn’t lead anywhere we “deserve” to go. 

When I WAS in trouble with other adults, it was real easy to use those feelings (and the reality that someone really WAS mad at me) to justify substance relapse and self-harm. 

That’s what we have to manage. 

The “in trouble” feeling does get less intense as we work our recovery, build our self-esteem, and strengthen our interpersonal effectiveness skills. It really won’t be like this forever. 

But in the meantime, know that even if you are “in trouble,” with someone, somewhere, that feeling probably doesn’t mean what Trauma Brain is trying to convince you it means. 

You STILL deserve support. 

You STILL deserve empathy. 

You STILL deserve to have your own back and be on your own side. 

Your worth does not change, even when you feel or are “in trouble.” 

Understand that feeling as the trauma response it is— and remember trauma responses are neither choices, nor character defects. 

Breathe. Blink. Focus.