Subtle Traumas
When we think of trauma, what comes to mind? A car crash? A war zone? Rape, physical abuse, starvation…? While these are all clearly traumas, where does that leave us when considering traumas that are much more subtle? How do we weigh the trauma of being given the feeling that you are a bad person by your primary attachment figure against the trauma of physical abuse? How do we weigh the experience of having a vacant and disconnected parent against the trauma of rape? How do we understand these subtle traumas in context of “so much worse”?
You see, there is something about these high-profile types of trauma that can make them a bit easier to metabolize—talk about. That is not to minimize the impact or the deep questions that come with these types of trauma—but instead to notice that there is a difference here. I often hear patients say to me “I sometimes wish he would have hit me so that I would feel justified in my feelings”. Or “It would be easier to admit that my childhood was so horrible if I had been given bruises”. Herein lies a trouble with exploring our childhoods that can interfere with healing. We don’t believe we have a right to our feelings even though our feelings are very real. And to wonder if we have a right to our feelings when they are so powerful leads to a deep fear that we are crazy or unwell. And instead of acknowledging harm done to our psyche’s we beat ourselves up.
So why are subtle traumas so important to notice? Because the subtleties of human interaction between parent and child are the building blocks of our internalized view of ourselves and our world. When we are two years old and our mother is deeply depressed and withdrawn from us we are not able to understand that she is depressed for her own reasons having nothing to do with our existence. We are only to understand that we are not capable of getting her love and attention in a way that feels secure. We are not capable of getting secure love. When we are seven and our parents fight in front of us about who should be responsible for the kids today because both parents have things they’d rather do, we cannot understand that as parents trying to juggle room for themselves in a demanding world. We can only understand that we are not likable enough for them to want to be around us. We are not likable enough. As these subtle emotional traumas add up, they begin to form a picture for us of ourselves and the world. When an incident like this is a one off, it is felt that way—insignificant and not a solid truth about the world. When incidents like these begin to define our childhood, they define our reality.
Why don’t we like to talk about or acknowledge subtle traumas? For one, many of us as parents are already so terrified to screw up our kids that we simply cannot hold space in ourselves all the time to avoid these subtle traumas. So, it is easier to imagine that these inevitable failings we have make no difference. And one could argue that we need to believe this so that we do not become overly vigilant anxious parents (which is another subtle trauma). Being a good enough parent is, perhaps, an impossible task. We don’t want to hold our parents to a standard we ourselves cannot achieve. We also live in a “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” kind of society that tells us that if these subtle things have had such an impact on us than we are weak, whiney or we are just being overly sensitive. So, we are afraid that our felt experience won’t be understood if we talk about it in regards to such common parenting blunders on behalf of our parents. But also, we have a psychological need to protect our parents from our own aggression. We need to fantasize that they were good enough because we needed them to be good enough to take care of us when we were too little to do it ourselves. And we are still hoping that someday they can give us what they weren’t able to give us as children. If only we are likeable enough. If only we try hard enough. If only we can please them or take care of them just right.
I believe that path only leads to repetitions in our relationships. The same pattern again and again. Our childhood feelings re-lived in every romantic relationship—every friendship—every work situation.
The thing is: we can find a way to acknowledge harm done to us AND hold empathy for our parents who also experienced subtle or not so subtle traumas. We can often find a way to be upset without destroying our parents. We can find a way to get our needs met without hopelessly wishing our parents could be other than they are. And we can, if we metabolize what has happened and how it’s impacted our story of ourselves, begin to notice that it’s just a story and not truth. And we can pull ourselves up and we can be resilient. But in order to do that, we need to know that these subtle traumas have had a not so subtle impact in the end.