Trauma is a term that resonates differently with each individual, yet it is universally understood across languages, from English to Spanish, German, and Italian. If we were to survey a hundred people about what trauma signifies for them, we would likely receive a hundred distinct interpretations. For me, trauma is anything that leaves an indelible mark on my spirit. While this may seem abstract to some, it is crystal clear to me. Your perception of my trauma might trivialize it, but that does not diminish its significance in my life.
In my nearly 40 years, I have faced profound losses: my father, brother, all of my grandparents, two twin babies, and my nephew. In my 18-plus years as a social worker, I have encountered and absorbed the narratives of victims of violent crimes, sexual abuse, and neglect. This is not a resume of pain; rather, it illustrates how my soul has been affected by these experiences. Some traumas I have managed to process and move past; others have lingered.
I was just 14 when my father passed away. That event reshaped my worldview entirely. My life was progressing along a relatively smooth path until the storm of grief hit, redirecting me into a realm of bitterness and anger. I withdrew from those close to me, concealing a new, rage-filled identity. The recurring thoughts of “Why me?” echoed in my mind whenever I saw friends with their fathers. I questioned my worthiness of such suffering, and the loss compelled me to re-evaluate everything I believed about my life up to that point.
After becoming a therapist and a parent, I faced another devastating loss when my brother died from a drug overdose. This tragedy shook my foundation once again, forcing me to see the world through a new, painful lens. By then, at 30, I had developed a troubling set of coping mechanisms to navigate the grief of losing my first friend. My inner questions shifted but retained a common thread of blame: Why couldn’t I have saved him? Why didn’t I do more? In my attempt to be a caring individual, I bottled up that blame and sadness, striving to appear “fine” while attempting to follow my usual path. However, my perspective was distorted, akin to wearing beer goggles; I stumbled and fell where I once thrived.
Through these experiences, I have learned that proclaiming “I’m fine” can be the most detrimental action. When I am in pain or mourning, I am anything but fine. Failing to acknowledge the hurt and its impact only allows the trauma to fester. Instead of the automatic response of “I’m fine,” I encourage others to choose a different phrase—anything but that. Life is inherently filled with challenges; we cannot expect to frolic through a perfect world.
Honesty with ourselves and our loved ones is vital. We possess the strength to recover from anything and find tranquility amidst turmoil. Humanity is a paradox; we are capable of both immense love and deep harm. As a social worker, I witness the full spectrum of our species. I’ve met some of the most resilient individuals who carry their burdens with grace. I feel privileged to hear their stories and learn from their journeys.
Yet, this privilege comes with its own set of emotional stains. I have comforted survivors of sexual assault as they bravely share their truths. I have guided children through therapeutic exercises to help them understand that their abuse was not their fault. I have held the hands of mothers battling addiction as they face the heart-wrenching loss of their children. I once sat on a hallway floor with a young boy who had witnessed violence, waiting for him to feel secure enough to return to class.
I am not a saint or a hero; I am merely part of the human experience, choosing to support others in their journeys. In doing so, I have accumulated my own stains. I acknowledge that I am not fine, and that’s perfectly okay. It is essential to confide in someone you trust about your struggles. Acknowledge your pain and seek help when needed. By being honest with ourselves and finding trustworthy individuals, we can better care for our emotional well-being. Remember to remain mindful of your soul and resist the urge to claim you’re “fine.”
For more insights on coping with trauma, you might find this article useful here. Also, for those considering home insemination, check out this comprehensive guide for essential tools. If you have questions about insurance related to fertility, this resource is highly recommended.
In summary, acknowledging our struggles and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable is crucial for healing. We must resist the impulse to appear “fine” and instead embrace our authentic experiences, fostering connections with those who can support us.
Leave a Reply