A Vignette from the Midst of Trauma Limbo
(And Twitter)
Everyone has traumatic events in their life. Often whether an trauma becomes Traumatic, or PTSD occurs is dependent on how the event is initially handled. If handled poorly the unhealed traumatic event causes a Trauma State and the brain is conditioned to live that way causing more trauma—snowballing. CPTSD is the occurrence of multiple traumatic events left unhealed which create a conditioned brain state and behavioral pattern of normalizing trauma so more traumatic events pile up, cycling.
If and when you manage to break the cycle, you must deal with not only all the events, but also the pattern of Survival Mode itself. Gaining awareness of the trauma pattern, even in therapeutic circumstances, is in its own way, traumatic too. There's the grief that comes from mourning each event; each loss of self, and the grief of knowing that was your reality. That your brain was sick, and is still sick, because while the events have ended, your body, heart, and mind, are still sickly wired.
Recovering from the trauma State isn't talked about enough. It's disgustingly painful to look back and strong together the threads of how it all happened; the childhood trauma patterns playing out in the adulthood. It's a heavy burden knowing how much there is to change, but even with your new knowledge, you can't go back. You are "freed" from the trauma, but trapped in the trauma state itself. In order to break free of that, you have to lose all your familiar comforts and coping, and build new ones.
If you were at rock bottom where everything in your life was chaotic, and you look around to find most things near and dear to you unhealthy, you must change and rebuild your entire life; mindset, attachments, values, losing more and more of the self you were forged into to survive. It's a petrifying feeling to know how you lost yourself, failed to care for, respect, and protect your own heart and mind, and you still have a tentative New Self in the works, who of course is vulnerable, and could be lost again if you aren't careful. You still aren't safe, as much as you now long for nothing but peace and comfort.
As difficult a struggle it can be, initially coming out of the trauma state is easier than reconstructing your entire life, just like how quitting a substance or habit is easier than figuring out all the new habits you must start in order not to relapse.
Then you think, haven't I suffered enough, paid my dues while in the trauma state? I wasted years of my life suffering, can't I just not suffer now that I know what happened and have distance?
Nope. You suffer through the remembering, mourning, and fear of the future like you’re in limbo. You fight to step away from hell, but heaven is so far away. It's a weary and lonesome road. You can't tell from friend from foe. The past, present, and future all blend. It's bewildering.
And underneath all that healing talk, therapy, self-affirmation mantras; you're still insecure about everything, trying to be strong because you don't want to be a victim anymore, but you feel guilty and ashamed about still being broken, scared, and sad after all the time you spent suffering in the past going nowhere. You just want to be happy now, you try to convince yourself you deserve it, but your brain and body haven’t caught up, nor your heart. You never knew you could be happy, strong, secure, or powerful, and now you are finally working on that…but still feel the empty, helpless, self-doubting.
The demoralization of working 15 hours a day on productive stuff that you never used to accomplish, but when all the work and podcasts and chores are put away and finished and you’re left utterly alone, you still having a 3-hour breakdown every night. Falling asleep with a broken heart and waking up to another day of uncertain possibility, with the only certainty being the pain that creeps back in.
It's like, this is my reward for all my hard work and survival? Continuous pain?
You know objectively you are doing better; everyone tells you so , you are doing Good and Healthy things, but you feel soul-destroying pain and heartache every day without fail. At some point, that has to stop, right? Or are you just doing something wrong, is there actually something wrong about you internally that isn’t deserving or capable of peace or love? No, that's irrational, you reason with yourself, but it doesn't feel that way when it happens because for half of your life that is what it meant to be alive, to love, to survive.
Nothing anyone can say one way or the other makes a difference, in fact anything said hurts you no matter how gentle it is. Optimism or encouragement feels like a knife, too, because you are so tender.
I am a thinker, and because I am a thinker, I am prone to the condition of writing. Because I’m prone to writing, I am inclined to post ideas on social media like Twitter, and it’s a surreal platform to speak one’s thoughts.
I have been active in both the detransition and general mental health, psychology, and trauma healing spheres for under a year, and I have had my “advocacy” Twitter account active for 4 months. In that time, I have posted many one-offs and longer threads, receiving a flattering amount of positive feedback about my writing, thoughts, insights, and experiences. It makes me feel validated in my truth and reinforces a new mental narrative and paradigm for myself of being indeed, a strong, insightful, and respectable person.
I also have posted many thoughts where the responses do not make me feel better, even though they are intended to. I receive a lot of…Feedback. Well-intentioned advice, common wisdom, and other “support.” I have tried to find value in this because objectively it seems to be positive Attention directed towards me in the hopes of lifting me up, and my extremely high Openness trait leads me to consider each comment or remark made with good faith. But I have realized, I don’t like the Feedback. I have often gotten tensed, frustrated, and irritated reading these casually supportive comments. They seem flippant to me.
My critical brain rationalizes this as I must just be being sensitive because the wounds are tender, so I should take the advice and goodwill for what it’s worth and not get bothered by random internet strangers commenting on the most vulnerable written expressions of my innermost pain. After all, it’s not meant to be harm; it’s meant to soothe me, right?
It does not. It makes me feel guilty and ashamed for not Feeling the Impact of the Positive Feedback.
When I post these things, I don't want advice. I don’t want insipid enthusiasm, hollow motivation, or shallow insights into my pain. I say them because they are. And they are true. They just exist. I hope other people relate who don't have the words to express them. I never want advice or encouragement unless I ask for it. I just want to describe the situation.