Trauma comes from experiencing something that is too hard, too much, for too long, with too little support. Perhaps it is something unexpected that came on too fast, with no time to digest it or metabolize it. Often it can feel like being flooded with more than we can take in.
Maybe you’ve been there before, or maybe the pandemic — and the systemic culture of racism and political divide — has surfaced it in ways that you don’t know what to do with it all.
Trigger warning: Suicide Awareness
The essence of trauma is being afraid and being alone. Attachment trauma — being wounded in relationships that were supposed to keep us safe — leaves us feeling unseen, unheard, unwanted, misunderstood, rejected, abandoned. Trauma disconnects us.
It makes sense, then, that when someone feels disconnected, cut off, ostracized, or “othered,” the pain is beyond excruciating and the risk for suicide increases. We aren’t created to go through life (and our pain) alone.
Who are the marginalized, the anguished, the ones in our society who feel beyond reach? And what is the pathway back (or perhaps for the very first time) to connection?
Trigger warning: Suicide Awareness
It comes in like a wave sometimes. I tell this story, not sure of how old I was but I will guess about ten. I was walking back from the ocean to my towel, and all of a sudden a wave came up over me. All I could hear is swooshing of water surrounding me, unsure if my feet were on the sand or in the air, my hair and sand in my eyes, choking and literally taken for a ride. It wasn’t until I had settled and found my footing that I realized which end was up.
Have you ever been hit by a wave?
Sometimes we get hit with really strong emotion, and nothing feels clear. It seems to threaten to derail us or take us off our feet. And for some, the pain is so deep and there is a heavy weight that pulls them under.