Jennifer Lock Oman | CPTSDfoundation.org

Finding a Sense of Wholeness: Complex PTSD, Self-Compassion, and Self-Marveling

Jennifer Lock Oman — Mon, 16 Sep 2024 09:29:22 +0000

“Why do I feel as though I’m writing a sad story, when my aim was to tell the story of a liberation?” – Edouard Louis

On the road of healing from Complex PTSD (CPTSD), our stories are often filled with sadness. In other moments they may be filled with stories of liberation and possibility. I actually believe that, in moments along the healing path, they may occur together to create a sense of wholeness.

There’s no denying that there’s much sadness connected to surviving relational trauma

There’s no denying that there’s much sadness connected to surviving relational trauma. We may grieve what we’ve lost in time, our own potential, opportunities, relationships, or even a simple peace within ourselves free of shame and anger. And, it’s necessary and central to healing to remember, and to feel our way through, deep sadness. Naming this kind of grieving “self-sorrowing,” Pete Walker writes it’s “…one of the most beautiful and restorative of emotional experiences. There is nothing in the world more centering than a good unabashed cry about one’s troubles. Nothing dissolves the awful abandonment pain of the inner child like a good cry for the self.” Grieving for what was lost, what was unnecessarily endured, what had to be forfeited or never-realized of our own potential is all a critical part of healing.

At the same time…

Healing is not only a slog through solitary, unremitting sadness. As a counterpoint to necessary self-sorrowing, there are moments of what one of my clients calls, “self-marveling.” “Self-marveling” becomes possible as self-compassion grows, most particularly compassion for the wounded parts of ourselves revealed through our self-sorrowing. I’ve witnessed these moments in the progress of a client’s healing when there’s a sort of “consolidation” of experience; it’s a reunion of various parts of ourselves and experiences that have come before, allowing a sense of wholeness. These are moments where self-compassion has begun to find some measure of footing in an arid landscape previously littered with self-loathing or shame. These moments are guideposts along the healing route signaling some hopeful progress. They nudge us towards a liberation from what was, toward a sense of future possibilities.

They are not singularly brilliant or joyous moments. They are more like moments where one rises to the emotional equivalent of a 20,000-foot bird’s eye view and sees the whole of what the path has been – challenging, painful, a series of psychic descents into, and ascents from, depths of struggle. In those moments there can be an acute and painful awareness of what the younger parts of ourselves had to navigate in our family, community, and culture.

Simultaneously, there can be an acute awareness of the brilliance of the young parts of us who survived in spite of it all; the toddler, school age, teenage and/or adult parts of us who survived creatively, perseveringly, and by finding nourishing resources wherever they could… through imagination, books, art, music, teachers, work, school, sports, or friends. In this space of self-marveling, we can connect with the exiled parts of us who had gifts like humor, originality, tenacity, grit and playfulness. In connecting with these qualities from the past, there’s also the possibility of reclaiming those early gifts for ourselves in the present.

Without a doubt writing a new story of healing is daunting. However, also without a doubt, having “a sad story” does not negate the possibility of also finding a “story of a liberation.” With dedicated and courageous effort, it is possible. To know more about the process I described, you may wish to explore the writing of Pete Walker or Richard Schwartz. You may also wish to learn more about therapeutic work done through the Internal Family Systems model at www.ifs-institute.com.

Photo credit:

Engin Akyurt/Pexels

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Jennifer Lock Oman

Jennifer Lock Oman, LISW, BCD, is a psychotherapist with over 35 years of professional experience. Her passion has been the study of human emotions, and their centrality in motivation, connection, and change. Currently, her interests also include the study of Complex PTSD and the clinical application of the Internal Family Systems (IFS) model of therapy to healing relational trauma.

Managing CPTSD: Honoring How Far You’ve Come

Jennifer Lock Oman — Mon, 29 Jul 2024 10:55:45 +0000

Generations of negative family patterns and relational wounds are our legacies

In healing from relational trauma or resulting Complex PTSD – a type of PTSD thought to arise as a result of extended or repeated trauma – we often forget or dismiss what it is we’ve been up against. And for some of us, it’s what we’ve been up against our entire lives.

Generations of negative family patterns and relational wounds are our legacies. Sometimes we forget – or were never really aware of – our generations and generations of “burden loading”: burdens handed down to us, carried, compounded, and left unmitigated through our family lines – burdens like abuse, neglect, abandonment, or loss. These are wounds created through our families, communities, societies, and/or cultural and historical norms.

When we forget that we carry these generational burdens, we may, at our core, believe all of the compounded shame, inadequacy, and powerlessness we feel is because we, alone, have “failed” to make our lives different. Our individualistic society reinforces this notion.

On a personal level, our sense of those perceived failings may include feeling horrified when we slip and sound or act “just like my mother/father.” Or they show up when we have a hard time taking a compliment or acknowledging our gifts because we’re loaded with secret shame. And, often we compare ourselves to others – or worse, we compare ourselves to an ideal self that will always elude us.

We tend to rev up and then double down on our familiar strategies for control

So, we believe that to feel safe and sane and able to survive, we must go on a mission to get those “failings” under control. We get into perfectionism, consumerism, workaholism, or addictions – which makes perfect sense because the non-conscious belief goes something like, “If I’m just smart enough, fast enough, rich enough, or numbed out enough, I will never have to feel ‘that’ again. No more of that vulnerability, that loneliness, that not belonging. I will get that handled!” We tend to rev up and then double down on our familiar strategies for control.

When we’re in this revved-up space, I argue that it’s good to consider pausing – and maybe pausing a beat longer – to consider starting a gratitude practice. Here, I would offer a little different type of gratitude practice. It’s a gratitude-for-myself practice. You may start this practice by getting curious about how you might:

Begin to find gratitude for what you have summoned in yourself to overcome, survive, and thrive. Get really specific. Look at the whole of your life. Write it down. What have you had to manage? What have you had to overcome? What have you done that’s been growth-producing, took courage, required a risk, or demanded perseverance?
Acknowledge and honor what you now see written in front of you. Add to it. Share it with a trusted other. Seriously, celebrate it.
Allow yourself grace for your mistakes and shortcomings. Expect less of yourself. Slow down, just for a day. Strain less and see how things can maybe still work out.
Identify ways – against all odds – you’ve broken patterns from previous generations. Ask what your shame is actually to bear and what belongs elsewhere. What is truly your responsibility now? How have you successfully answered it? Really appreciate that you are just one person trying to make a difference in a chain of unaddressed pain.
With your children, acknowledge how you’ve worked to “do it differently” with them to break the generational transmission. Consider what you’ve done in your larger family or community to bring healing. By even being willing to be aware, you’re doing your part for those who follow.

One of my clients said at the end of a session, her eyes open in surprise, “I didn’t realize how much I’ve been handling all my life. I’m not depressed; I’m legitimately sad and tired, and I’m sort of proud of what I’ve done in spite of all of it.” Despite a life full of loss and trauma, she found this understated appreciation for the grit and gifts and sea changes she has had to summon to create a life for herself. That self-gratitude is part of where healing compassion starts, both for oneself and for others. You may claim it for yourself.

Photo by Milan Popovic on Unsplash

Jennifer Lock Oman

5 Valuable Life Skills Often Learned by Those With Complex PTSD

Jennifer Lock Oman — Mon, 01 Jul 2024 09:05:37 +0000

Strengths can be found in childhood survival strategies.

Complex posttraumatic stress disorder (CPTSD) is much more prevalent than anyone might surmise. Because adults who managed this attachment trauma as children learned many adaptive survival skills that they utilize in adulthood, they are often very well-functioning members of society. No one might guess what challenges lie beneath the surface.

With the pervasive relational trauma that results in CPTSD, a child is required to subvert her own natural and healthy needs, preferences, inclinations, and emotional life to the parent’s selfish demands. A child intuitively knows when a parent has no room for them emotionally and will suppress her instincts and impulses to buoy that parent — out of love and out of a desire to glean any support for herself from the parent.

A child managing this complex attachment trauma is, quite literally, put in the dilemma of having to choose between his psychic and physical well-being and his critical connection with the adult(s) in his life. To a child, it feels like survival. The seriousness of this dilemma cannot be underestimated. In many ways, it is survival — physical, emotional, intellectual, and psychic.

In the aftermath of this childhood, most adults are left with the many burdens of senseless attachment wounds. Wounds that could have been quite unnecessary if the child had been given the love, respect, and awareness that her needs, natural dependence, and reliance on the adults in her life demanded tender attention.

There can be little to nothing to feel good about surviving a history of complex trauma. At the same time, what I have observed, time and again, in my clients with a complex trauma history are coinciding strengths. Along with the challenges, adults with a history of complex trauma can also embody these adaptive life skills:

1. Responsibility: As children, survivors learned (too) early on to be responsible for themselves and others. Often, these responsibilities were well beyond their true age-appropriate ability to perform. Because, at times, it was literally an issue of survival, these kids learned persistence in taking responsibility, problem-solving, and stepping up. As adults, their challenge is to require and allow others to take appropriate responsibility for tasks, behaviors, and relationships and to not automatically step in as caretakers. As adults, the value in this same behavior can look like being a responsible parent, spouse, employee, or friend. In life, they can be reliable, consistent, and persistent. They can demonstrate many qualities of leadership.

As adults, the value in this is they can exhibit the strengths of meeting and solving life challenges through competence, problem-solving skills, creativity, and a “find-a-way” attitude

2. Competence: As children, survivors learned never to need anything by way of support because they quickly found their needs would go unanswered. As adults, the challenge for them at times is to tackle a sense of learned helplessness. Another challenge is to take pride in their efforts and abilities. As adults, the value in this is they can exhibit the strengths of meeting and solving life challenges through competence, problem-solving skills, creativity, and a “find-a-way” attitude. They can know exactly what to do in any given situation, or they move to figure it out.

3. Functioning well through a lot of distress: Clients use words like “soldier on,” “bear down,” and “push through” to describe how they learned to manage distress. For these adults, it can be difficult to know how to regulate distress or that they even have a choice in the matter. They can overestimate their ability to tolerate distressing events and become “blindsided” with overwhelming feelings they don’t see coming. The value in this is when they learn to notice when they’re distressed; they can regulate it better. And, if you’re in a critical and stressful situation, these are the people you want on your team. What began for them as children as anticipatory fear of what’s coming can result, as adults, in an ability to plan ahead, and to create order out of chaos.

4. An uncanny ability to “read the room.” As children, survivors learned to read other people — to read their tone, their movement, their words, and their emotions. This was helpful to safely avoid danger, to know what a situation called for, and to generally rise to what any circumstance required. As adults, their challenge can be to not feel swamped by other people’s emotions or dilemmas and to not let other people’s needs take over in every situation. As adults, the value of this is that they can intuit what others may need. Through this, they can be empathic, caring, and kind. They may seek to understand another’s perspective; they can allow for differences and look to find fair solutions for all.

5. A desire and ability to connect with others. While perhaps overly responsible as children, a challenge can be to learn balanced and mutual connectivity; these children are so used to being “of service” that they aren’t always sure how to just “be” in relationships. Learning they deserve mutual support is a challenge. At the same time, because seeking connection with loved and important others was critical, as adults, they may continue to place high value on connection and belonging. They seek to be inclusive and to create space for others to join in, come along, and enjoy creative, even playful, connections.

Through work with a competent therapist, the burdens our younger parts carry can be released, and the strengths found there can be used to enrich adult life today. The work of Dick Schwartz, Pete Walker, and Janina Fisher, among others, may guide you in learning more.

Photo from Unsplash: sharon-mccutcheon-2eAkk5lIkC8-unsplash.jpg

Jennifer Lock Oman

Do No Harm. Take No Sh*t: How Healthy Anger Helps us Recover

Jennifer Lock Oman — Thu, 30 May 2024 09:22:00 +0000

Among the limited options available to manage relational trauma as children and teens, many of us with early relational wounding took the behavioral route of being reserved, respectful, compliant, and often tuned into others’ needs above our own. With this scripted option to manage an abusive environment, we learned to “do no harm” and, in fact, may have evolved instead to be particularly sensitive, kind, and empathic towards others.

What was less developed were the part(s) of us who needed to learn to “take no sh*t.” We learned, or were forced to learn, to relinquish our innate “fight” response, which would have created healthy boundaries; to do anything like asserting ourselves with appropriate anger threatened those with power over us. Back then, it invited the real possibility of dangerous reprisals. So, we shut it down.

There’s a trifecta of choices to respond to caregiver threats

With relational trauma, there’s a trifecta of choices to respond to caregiver threats; they are commonly known as fight, flight and freeze responses. A fourth response—fawn—is a strategy identified by Pete Walker that has been the missing piece to complete the CPTSD response repertoire. In my view, “fawn” responses are adaptive responses often derisively labeled in adulthood as being “people pleasing” or “co-dependent.”

Kids who went the “fawn” route were part of the quiet brigade. They were the ones who generally didn’t act out but were good, kind, cooperative, or responsible people. They perhaps performed well in life and probably looked good from the outside. But, underneath appearances, these kids were really too good for their own good. Because they had to relinquish any “fight” or self-protective anger at their mistreatment, they lost access to a key emotion that guards personal integrity and a cohesive sense of self–healthy anger.

The biological, evolutionary, and social function of anger is to help us know our boundaries and empower us to set them. Much of the relearning in healing from early relational trauma is coming to recognize, accept, and comfortably express our anger in appropriate and clarifying ways. Healthy anger, when reclaimed, is not only a birthright but a way through which we rebuild our vitality. The tricky part for people scripted in the fawn response is that often, even a hint of anger is immediately traded out for another emotion, particularly shame. This happens so quickly that one is ashamed before registering, and one might be self-protectively angry.

Shame is an emotion that can bind every other emotion. Typically, with the fawn response, shame is managed with “withdrawal” or “attack self” scripts. Both of these scripts adaptively served to make us smaller targets for continued abuse while regrettably shutting down our access to self-protection.

Because we came to understand anger as an emotion of “power over,” thus something wounding and to be avoided, we have to begin by redefining what healthy anger is for us. Healthy anger does not trample over other’s thoughts, feelings, or boundaries. Healthy anger actually seeks “power with” another person by clarifying the terms of the relationship in a cooperative, honest, and restorative way. Begin by redefining anger for yourself by asking these questions:

How did I come to understand what anger was? How did I see anger displayed or expressed in my family? Or did it go underground?

What positive or negative associations do I make to having anger, my anger or another’s?

Do I feel ashamed or guilty when I feel angry?

What is my anger “style”? Do I shut down, lash out, or chastise myself for having anger?

What small steps may I take to begin to connect with and name my anger? For instance, how do I know when I’m mildly angry? What physical sensations do I feel…a clenching in my solar plexus, heat in my chest, a reddening of my face, clenching my jaw or fists?

As you identify, elaborate, and define how you experience your anger, the next step is to get clear about the issue(s) your anger is spotlighting. Before acting on the anger, sit with it long enough to define the problem and the solution or clarification you seek. Finally, gradually learn to “speak for your anger, not from your anger,” meaning let anger inform you while at the same time speaking from a measured place of clarity, decisiveness, and respect for yourself and the other. None of this is clean or easy. However, the “trial and error” effort is worth the reclamation of an incredibly important and empowering source for setting boundaries and finding a new sense of self-worth and emotional vitality.

Image credit: Mauro Savoca/Pexels

Jennifer Lock Oman

Lost & Found: (Re) Claiming Emotional Vibrancy Lost with CPTSD

Jennifer Lock Oman — Wed, 17 Apr 2024 09:37:56 +0000

In adapting to the circumstances of growing up with relational trauma, most of us had to give up our innate sense of personal power or sovereignty

Generally, this meant having to forfeit our agency, vibrancy, energy, or creativity. Most of all, it meant no one was mirroring our emotions; no one “close” to us was there to help soothe difficult feelings or join us in sharing our delights and successes. In fact, for many clients I work with, the concept of having emotions is confounding and a little fear-inducing. Exploring our emotions can feel intimidating because some clients experience emotions as things that often come unbidden, and out of the blue. Often overwhelming, these emotions seem to either shut the client down or buzz them up with no rhyme or reason. A birthright, our emotional system gives us information about the world inside and around us. With Complex PTSD, that information system has been thwarted, shut down, or compromised. The task is to reclaim it, perhaps even learning it for the first time.

What I have found useful over three decades of clinical practice, teaching, and writing is to start with the nine innate affects elaborated by Silvan S. Tomkins. While there are currently many discussions about how many emotions humans have, I find it extremely helpful to build a foundation of understanding, beginning with nine basic affects. These affects are what Tomkins identified as the nine affects we’re innately wired with at birth. Coming into this world with these affects in place, they are ready to develop further into more complex emotions as we grow and mature. Learning these affects is an excellent starting point for understanding our internal guidance system, otherwise known as our emotions. I call these affects the “building blocks of emotion.”

The nine basic affects which Tomkins identified are below. There are two positive affects (interest and enjoyment), one neutral (surprise), and six negative affects (distress, fear, anger, disgust, dissmell and shame). As indicated below with the ellipses, we experience these affects on a continuum of intensity, from mild to more extreme.

In future posts, I’ll explore and describe our experiences of the nine affects more fully. What I want to leave you with at present is that even our “negative” and most difficult affects serve the purpose of giving us important information about ourselves and our world. They have evolved over eons to give us a survival advantage, and (re)claiming them in the present – as counter-intuitive as it may seem – can restore our vitality and a life worth living while managing CPTSD.

Interest…Excitement
Enjoyment…Joy
Surprise…Startle
Distress…Anguish
Fear…Terror
Anger…Rage
Disgust
Dissmell (a Tomkins neologism derivative of smell and the hunger drive; it’s an emotion calling for “distance”)
Shame…Humiliation

Disclaimer: This article is for informational purposes only. It is not a substitute for professional or psychological advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Contact a qualified healthcare provider before implementing or modifying any personal growth or wellness program or technique, and with questions about your well-being. Copyright ©2024 Jennifer Lock Oman, LISW. All rights reserved.

Image from Unsplash

Jennifer Lock Oman