Over the last couple of weeks, I had way too much time on my hands. So, I was going through books like crazy – as if that’s not the case most of the time. As usual, one of the topics that I keep on coming back to is trauma, healing from that, and, the damage (or benefits) it gives. I guess it’s a natural one when you mix a bookworm with a less-than-ideal childhood. To all honesty, there aren’t that many books worth reading on the subject but once in a while, I do manage to find a good nugget in the tall pile of shite of self-help books.
During that reading spree, I picked up two amazing books back to back – Unexpected Gift of Trauma by dr. Edith Shiro and What My Bones Know by Stephanie Foo. With every page, I kept on reflecting on my therapy process, healing journey, where I was in that, and what was coming. It is like painting by numbers – putting an explanation to what is happening helps me to paint the final picture and understand what I am looking at and what I can expect.
Before we move along, few important caveats. First, everyone's healing process is different and while I need explanations, someone else might not need talking through it at all, and movement. or acting, or whatever other means of repairing the relationship with yourself would work better. For me, logic and explanations are safe haven. While I am slowly moving from that, it is still tremendously helpful to understand why things are happening and what is the expected course of action. Second, Unexpected Gift of Trauma covers post-traumatic growth concept which is a bit contested by scientific community since it is a highly personal process. And what is personal, it is very difficult to scientifically measure and prove. Think about it - how would you define growth for the population? How would you define checkpoints for healing? And as those questions are difficult if not impossible to answer, it is difficult to (scientifically) prove that post-traumatic growth exists. Essentially, it's like aliens - you believe it or not. And I choose to believe.
The first book felt like reading a summary of my therapist’s guideposts from the last 3 years in neatly dedicated chapters. It helped me to reflect on how different I am because of trauma and how much I changed while trying to repair myself as a consequence of it. It helped me to put in context the experiences of generations in my family tree, kind of forgive my parents (not sure if it’s forgiveness or more of an understanding), and appreciate the long way that I came. When reading the second book, I could see myself in the approach to therapy and the healing process. I genuinely believed that after 3 months of therapy, I would be good to go. Quick patch, some magic therapy juices and I am golden. No more trauma anymore. Guess what, it is taking me 3+ years by now and god knows how many more to come. And as Stephanie says in the end – you fix one corner and you discover there is another one peeling off, you just didn’t have time or capacity to focus on that. So, you are constantly fixing, changing, evolving. And I am not sure there is an end to that – since it took generations to drive me to the bottom, maybe it makes sense that it takes decades to repair myself.
I wish I was not anxious, I wish I didn’t think of the worst possible scenarios, I wish I didn’t believe that I will be eventually left alone or that I don’t deserve success and happiness. But none of these things are possible. I can’t be born in a different family, country, or time in history. Multiple wars, and decades of communism, fear, starvation, and lack of options changed my family and so many families on our side of the world. My parents didn’t know better, my grandparents didn’t know better. And all of that left an imprint on my life. I was molded by society, its priorities, its fears, and my family’s behavior. And now there are decades of pain and beliefs to undo.
Unexpected Gift of Trauma gave me a framework to evaluate and explore my post-traumatic growth path. From radical acceptance to discovery of new narratives and (hopefully) eventual new and evolved me. I know it is silly but it took me decades and some lucky miracles to discover that my childhood was not okay, that what I was feeling was pain. And now I am learning new narratives. It might take a while to integrate them, but I do notice alternative ways to approach life. Maybe not everyone will leave me. Maybe my husband and his love for me will stay with me. Maybe I can be loved. Maybe I don’t need millions to count myself successful. Maybe I am a grown-up who can choose for herself. The challenge today is that all of them are maybes. The joy of tomorrow is that I believe they will eventually become my truths. And while I stop preparing for Armageddon when going through life, I am getting more relaxed, and I am getting more me, without layers of trauma response. And I would like to believe I am building more honest relationships. At least the book says I should be 🙂
And on that topic – when reading What My Bones Know, I couldn’t stop thinking I wanted to become a better friend. I want to learn to listen better, not hear and accept that sound is coming in but really listen. And move focus from my pain and my story to theirs. I want to become a better friend where they know they can count on me. Not only during happy times but also during bad times. I know I have a million opinions, I know I can be insensitive once in a while and I definitely can relate to Stepahnie’s friends’ beliefs that she can be overwhelming and exhausting. It’s difficult not to be when you are constantly living in a fight mode. Or you are tired from the fight mode. There isn’t much left for the joy and true connection. But I have fought enough. I survived. And maybe now it’s time to enjoy life? Be present? I want to be present for them. Because as my therapist loves to say – life’s meaning is relationships.
And that’s the next challenge for me when it comes to growing as a result of trauma – to open up. To me, to others, to the world. Be present. And be curious about the next growth opportunity. Maybe that one will be easier? I surely hope so.
Let’s see how that works out.
Life in Analog 