If you have PTSD then you know what it’s like to feel unable to control your emotions. You’re walking along having a fine day when all of a sudden you hear a siren or a car backfires and you hit the deck or hide in the bushes. Or, you’re feeling completely at ease in a conversation with someone and then all of a sudden a huge wave of anger courses through you and you react with vicious words and vehement aggression. What’s happening in these instances? Your brain is processing information that makes it feel in danger, which causes it to send messages to your body, which activates your sympathetic nervous system that leads you to respond in either fight, flight or freeze. Bottomline: Typical of anyone with PTSD you’re having trouble regulating your emotions. Not to worry, there are ways to counteract this.

On my journey to PTSD recovery, one of the first distress techniques that my therapist taught me was meditation. When he suggested it, my first thought was, "You've got to be kidding me!" My mind and body were always racing, how was I supposed to slow down far and long enough to meditate?

During my own PTSD recovery I studied - a lot! I read all I could get my hands on about trauma psychology and recovery theory. Some of my favorite current authors: Judith Herman, Babette Rothschild, Peter Levine and Robert Scaer. (Most of whom I've now interviewed on my radio show, YOUR LIFE AFTER TRAUMA.) While I focused on the current authors, I also delved back into the past, reading the fathers of trauma theory, including Jean-Martin Charcot and Pierre Janet. One of my fave quotes that made me feel soooo much better actually came from a comment made back in 1881...

In regard to PTSD, I've heard so many times - from both survivors and clinicians - once you're broken you can't be fixed (Three Ways Trauma Affects Your Brain). Really? I find that hard to believe. And now, there's proof that's all a bunch of baloney.

After trauma and struggling with PTSD we all want two things: safety and control. How do we get them? Sometimes by rather maladaptive coping techniques!

"I live in such a fog!", Ophelia said to me last week. "I can't see my way out of it." Boy, do I remember that feeling! Ophelia lives overseas and we work on her PTSD recovery via Skype. She's terrifically motivated, open to trying new approaches and honest about her healing experience. The PTSD fog, I've learned, is universal. I myself waded through it for decades until is was so thick I felt its swirl around me was more real than the world in which everyone else lived.

It may be a new year but old trauma topics continue to be relevant! I’ve written before about how important it is to move slowly in recovery. A few years ago, I worked with a client, Anna, who refused to heed this advice. When she had a small success in healing, she took that as license to go full speed ahead – and always slammed herself into a wall, had a meltdown and had to start over again. I’m no stranger to this cycle. I, too, had to learn to take myself down a notch or two from warp speed. It makes total sense that we do this. After trauma speed can be comforting as it stops us from spending too much time in situations or uncomfortable places in our minds. Plus, the road to healing is long and frustrating, which makes you just want to get it over with fast! Instead of recapping what it means to pace yourself in recovery, today I’m mulling over what it means to pace yourself in your emotions.

When I was struggling with PTSD one of the things that I always hated about birthdays and new years were how they brought me face to face more than usual with the passage of time. More than that: They forced me to acknowledge the fact that I was losing days and months and weeks and years of my life to symptoms I could no more control than I could understand. What I'm trying to say is, new years celebrations always made me feel more sad and anxious than usual.

Before your PTSD diagnosis, when you’re struggling with PTSD symptoms, you know exactly what to do: You have to figure out what’s wrong. If you’re proactive about chasing down answers and fortunate enough to find a professional who recognizes the signs of PTSD and diagnoses you with posttraumatic stress disorder, your next challenge is deciding how to approach recovery. Since there is no single way to heal, it’s up to you to know your options.

In the wake of the Newtown, CT, tragedy last week I’m reminded again how fragile language is in our moments of deepest shock and despair. ‘Pain’, ‘grief’, ‘loss’, ‘shock’ hardly begin to scratch the surface of what it means to live through a traumatic event and then face the task of learning to live after it. In the wake of my own trauma, I acutely felt the absence of words.