Trauma Queen

Posted by fxckfeelings on September 17, 2009

Trauma becomes a part of who you are—the more you fight it, the more you punish yourself—so don’t struggle against the scars, physical or mental, that’s life’s given you. Many people have the notion that therapy can cure psychological trauma, but, in reality, trying to “cure” trauma is like trying to win a war on terror: you can’t defeat an emotional response, you can just keep living in spite of it.
–Dr. Lastname

Up until 2003, I lived in Brooklyn and worked in Tribeca, so, as you can imagine, 9/11 was a big, scary deal for me. I went to therapy for a while—both for the PTSD and the grief over a couple of friends at Cantor/Fitzgerald who died—and while I think I’m doing much better than I was, I still get shaky when I see footage or pictures from that day. Problem is, 8 years have passed, I now live in Chicago, so there’s not a lot of sympathy for my sensitivity. In fact, last week, when the topic came up at work and I expressed my discomfort, one of my co-workers accused me of being totally over dramatic, and I then became the subject of some light ribbing. And I know they have a point sort of, but I also know that it was really fucking scary. So my goal is to figure out what I should do, be it get more therapy or more resistance to my co-workers’ bullshit, in order to move past my trauma.

Trying to block or control your trauma-reactive sensitivity is a bad idea; after awhile, you simply can’t control it, and trying to do so makes it worse. The number of treatments that aim to reduce your symptoms after traumatic events should warn you that success is partial, and control impossible.

And, of course, there are all those natural treatments for blocking pain—alcohol, weed, sugary baked goods, and other high-side-effect mental painkillers that work beautifully, however briefly—while also destroying your life.

In the short run, some treatments are helpful…but they’re not cures. Now you’ve had treatment, it’s 8 years later, you’ve moved away and tried to move on, so whatever sensitivity you’ve got at this point, you’re not going to get rid of.

Besides, many “treated” people have over-reactions for the rest of their lives. You don’t deal with it once and be done with it, you possibly deal with it everyday, and, in your case, you certainly deal with it once a year.

If you’re not going to get rid of your pain, then your goal is to learn to live with it.

The first step is learning to accept your post-traumatic shakiness as an unavoidable mental scar, reminding yourself that that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Anxiety triggered by a particular trauma probably burns itself into your brain to help protect you from re-exposure for the rest of your life, and is thus protective (in addition to being painful, but at least it means well).

If what you mean by “building more resistance” to your co-workers’ comments is to feel less pain, then you’re probably setting yourself an unattainable and dangerous goal. A healthier way of “building more resistance” is to find the strength to keep on going while tolerating whatever pain they inadvertently trigger.

Now that you know that your trauma reactions are yours for the foreseeable future—that you’re fucked, essentially, as far as this issue is concerned—you’re free to take a more positive view. You can be proud of how you’ve handled your pain. You can explore reasonable ways of managing it.

Recurrence shouldn’t make you feel like a failure who needs to apologize, but a survivor who does a great job managing with life, despite the cards s/he’s been dealt; your trauma isn’t your cross to bear, it’s your medal of honor.

STATEMENT:
Write a statement to protect you from interpreting your sensitivity as a failure. “I don’t like over-reacting to whatever stirs my 9/11 memories, but it’s a fact of my life that isn’t likely to disappear soon. Some people may consider me oversensitive or obsessed with the past, but I’ve learned that my response is not under my control, so I focus on going on with my life, however painful the feelings I sometimes encounter. I don’t nurse my helplessness or ruminate on vengeance. I’m proud of how well I’ve achieved this goal.. I really appreciate it when people avoid stimulating my memories, although I know they can’t always avoid doing so.”

This is weird, but here it is; a month ago, while I was watching him, my 3-year-old son lost the pinkie and ring finger on his left hand in the lawnmower. I’ve been assured over and over that it was a freak accident and that I and my husband weren’t being careless or stupid, but we’ve both been a mess about this. Our son was born perfect, and now we’ve made it impossible for him not just to play sports, but to go through school without being constantly teased (I have all my fingers, and I got my share of teasing just for having freckles, so I can’t image how hard it’s going to be on him). My son, on the other hand, is young enough that he’s dealing rather well. when we brought him into the hospital, the surgeon actually told us that our crying was upsetting him, and if we’d just calm down, that would be a huge help. Well, that was four weeks ago, and my husband and I are still having trouble putting on a brave face in front of him. My goal is to feel less awful about screwing up my son’s hand and his life.

It’s pretty hard to get rid of feelings of parental guilt if you’re the kind of person who feels that way whenever something goes wrong with the people you love. Guilty feelings are seldom rational, and some people feel them much more than others. You’ve got guilt, and you’ve got it bad.

Such feelings are easily triggered by something going wrong “on your watch,” or not being able to protect someone you love, regardless of whether you had the opportunity to actually prevent an accident from happening.

Being so caring is part of what makes you a good parent, but the guilt that goes with caring too much makes you doubt your parenting skills altogether.

Irrationally, people create an illusion of control by thinking “if I had only looked up a second earlier;” but a rational board of inquiry would find that your power over this sad event, and therefore your responsibility, is zero. And yet guilt continues.

And, if you’re imaginative and compassionate, you may feel overwhelmed by your worries about his future pain. That, too, you can’t erase from your mind. So your peace of mind is as much a casualty of this accident as your son’s fingers.

It would be nice if a rational therapist could convince you otherwise and take away your pain, like the shrink in “Good Will Hunting.” In real life, everyone can tell you that it’s not your fault, and you can have a good cry, but it makes no difference.

You’ll probably feel better if you flagellate yourself, but that’s not good for anyone, particularly your son, so your goal isn’t relief or self-flagellation. It’s doing what’s right for your son, no matter what mistakes you hold yourself to in the past.

If you wait until you feel better, that won’t help him either. Your goal is to help him now, regardless of how you feel.

So accept your pain as an unavoidable curse of parenthood, and do the only good thing you can do with it: keep it to yourself while reminding your son that he’s healing well, and that he’s doing a great job with the hand he has.

Remind yourself that it’s not your job to keep him safe and happy, much as you’d like to. It’s your job to try. But a bigger part of your job is to help him stay positive when something bad happens, which it always does, regardless of who’s watching.

STATEMENT:
Write a statement to help you stick with a positive message, regardless of your feelings. “Accidents happen, son, but you’re doing a great job of recovering and your hand will be almost as useful as it was before. If anybody is curious, tell them what happened.” And if anyone teases him, tell him, “I know what they’re saying hurts you, but it’s not about you—some kids get nasty about anyone who looks a little different from them, and it’s a problem they have to learn to control if they want to become a good person, and I have some ideas about helping them control themselves better. I’ll go discuss it with their teachers and parents, you worry about how to keep being an awesome kid.”