My trauma is my own

This is a PSA to stop gatekeeping trauma and what defines as such. It's trivializing to confine trauma to such a narrow margin.

It's the equivalent of telling someone what may be a trigger for them isn't really because it doesn't meet the norm. If an event was traumatizing to you, no matter how common of an occurrence it was, then it was trauma. Let's please stop overthinking this.

If you google the term trauma you will find various definitions. Despite this, the key takeaway for them is always an emotional response to something terrible happening.

What about that is only specific to death, car crashes and physical abuse? Those can no doubt cause trauma, but remember that what is considered trauma isn't so black and white. And let's not forget micro-trauma.

Why it was so validating to be treated with trauma in mind

It wasn't until this past week that something was made painfully clear to me. 4pm on a Monday no less. My therapist wanted to try something new. Something to test out the murky waters of my emotions.

I recall blankly staring at the wall as she explained the simple premise, not thinking it would hold such an impact.

She said to me—and I’m paraphrasing here—“when your relationship anxiety creeps up and fights with your rational thoughts, telling you you're naïve, do you hear a distinctive voice or person?”

Hm, interesting, I thought, I can’t say I’ve ever thought of this.

I ponder a bit before returning with “yes, I suppose there is a distinctive person – it’s myself really”, I pause, “who I was at the end of my last relationship, knowing what I did then. Knowing the outcome and feeling like my anxiety was right".

She dug deeper, “can you do something for me?”

“Sure”.

“This might seem like a strange request, but when you think back to your past relationship, is there a distinctive image of yourself that comes to mind?”

I pause to think before reluctantly responding, “It all feels so far away to be honest", I continue "I suppose the only thing that comes to mind is me, back in that house, doing the dishes".

"I used to do a lot of cleaning. At the time I was compensating a lot. I was already made aware he didn't want to stay. But he gave me reasons to think I could fix things and instead of accepting our fate I was doing a lot to try and save the relationship from ending – in my mind I often rationalized everything by thinking I need to do this, I need to be my best self in order to fix it", I say.

I hear her sympathetic tone on the other end of the line, “can you tell me how exactly she was feeling? I’m going to refer to you as a third person here”

My voice cracks a little, “Her—this person who lacked boundaries".

I go on, "she was anxious, on edge, craving any reassurance she could get her hands on—she was bending over backwards and giving her all to someone who, against better judgement, didn’t choose her anymore—who didn’t try to pretend anymore. She was feeling scared to take up any space, she was trying desperately to conveniently fit into all that was left”.

She went on to ask, “Do you still resonate with this person? This anxious girl who is scared to take up space? Do you still identify with this version of yourself?”

That nearly shattered me. I wasn't expecting it to. I was presented with the fact that something I thought I’d fully grown from, I really hadn’t. I was trying my best not to let her hear me cry over the phone.

Yes I had overcome the heartbreak. Yes, it was for the best. Yes, I have no ounce of regret that he isn’t a part of my life.

But, no, I haven’t really reconciled with the way I was made to feel. The way I was treated in the end. The way I shrank to meet someone’s ideal version of myself. The way I was emotionally toyed with in the end. The way I let myself be vulnerable to feeling like I was wasn’t worthy of being loved. The way I felt overlooked and cheated on. The version of myself it had been the catalyst of me becoming.

I still identify with that anxious, insecure girl. I still struggle with knowing if I am deserving of love. I still struggle to question my worth when it comes to relationships. I still compare myself to others.

Sure, it takes two to tango, I know my part in it—but that does not take away from the way I was treated and made to feel in those moments, even if unintentionally.

It was a highly traumatic experience for me, and I still have a hard time shaking away that version of myself because of it.

It was that same session my therapist spoke to me about trauma and it's impact. About how trauma is often used with a capital T. But what we often forget, or fail to consider at times, is the impact of small 't' trauma.

It was oddly satisfying. The kind of satisfying where you didn't anticipate it being so. To hear someone—a professional no less—tell you: these heavy feelings you carry? Yeah, they make sense. Your pain is real. The way you feel even to this day is understandable.

While I, to a degree, recognized this prior, being able to make sense of it through the lens of trauma, really put it all into perspective. It was validating.

I did my best to unravel quietly as I let her logic and clarity wash over me.

Why I was reluctant to identify with the term "trauma"

While I considered my break up to be traumatic by emotional standards, I didn’t really consider it trauma.

I was quick to say it was “somewhat traumatic” and not "this was a traumatizing experience". Why was I so quick to skirt around words? I knew very well one held more impact than the other.

I was downplaying. Pushing everything into a small container hoping it would all fit, not wanting it to pour over more than it already has.

Like many, I was reluctant because I compared what I found traumatic to what others experience—those with much worse off circumstances. People break up all the time. People get cheated on all the time. Why is my case any more significant?

And, I think that's where a lot of the problem lies. Feeling the need to compare. To think because others experience worse and that our experiences are less valid. Furthermore, that our feelings—our emotional pain—is less valid.

When we downplay it, we allow others to do so as well. They can't grasp the extent of it without us properly addressing it as such.

Your trauma is yours. It's not something to conceptualize, downplay, or play devil's advocate with. It's valid internalized hurt that you are absolutely entitled to feel, and to grow with.

Learning from and growing, while paying tribute to her

I may still relate to her, but I am not her.

I'm learning to allow myself grace. To not feel as though I'm set back by what I didn't realize until now. To not feel as though I've not grown since then.

I choose to look at it all as more of a revelation. One that will help me move forward from these heavy feelings about my worth.

I'm also learning to go easy on her. She didn't know any better. She was doing the best she could at the time.