The definition of trauma is (1) a deeply distressing or disturbing experience or (2) physical injury. When I’ve talked to people about trauma I’ve experienced in my lifetime, they automatically assume it was all physical traumas. There was physical trauma, but what about the emotional trauma? Just because someone didn’t hit me physically doesn’t mean I didn’t experience a pain so deep in my soul it changed who I was forever.
The majority of my specific trauma all happened by the age of 15. After that, I was pretty much a self-serving bitch because I’d had enough of people thinking I was a pushover. I was no longer willing to allow my throat chakra to stay closed and swallow down anymore bullshit for anyone. I said what I wanted, how I wanted and outwardly I didn’t really care what anyone thought of me. When I was alone and quiet I would think about the pain I may have caused someone. It was in those moments I decided I was more like my favorite book/movie character, Katie Scarlett O’Hara, more affectionately known as Scarlett. I always thought to myself “After all, tomorrow is another day.” The translation to this is… I’m not going to think about that right now, which Scarlett said regularly. To her, the end goal was all that mattered and whomever she had to stomp on in the meantime was just going to have to deal.
As human beings walking around with a lot of baggage in our hearts, we often say and do things out of anger or when we are under the influence we would not normally say. In a normal, unaltered state we avoid saying and doing these same things. You know those moments when you’re out and you’ve had a drink and wind up telling the hot guy/girl you’ve been eyeing up all night that you’re attracted to them. There’s a reason alcohol is called liquid courage. It lowers our inhibitions and our guarded protection over our hearts. Feelings we have in an unaltered state we would never allow out start to flow freely. Sometimes we remember stating these feelings and sometimes we do not. Anger can cause much the same reaction. It’s like a switch was flipped and the electrical current is no longer being controlled and stuff just starts flying with no grounding to trigger it to stop. Then comes the electrical shock.
I remember this moment as if it was yesterday; I don’t think I was any more than 6 years old. My parents were getting a divorce and my world was upside down so I wasn’t sleeping well. My father had always rocked me to sleep and with that gone, my routine changed (insert a huge aha moment literally just now as I write this for why I had routine based OCD). My mother had been out for the night and I could tell by the smell alcohol was involved. I have a very sensitive nose, always have and I can pick up that smell very quickly. I remember being scared because I woke up in the middle of the night and went to crawl in bed with her, but she wasn’t there so I went back to my bed. When she did finally come home, I tossed back the covers and my little bare feet hit ground again. I walked towards her room holding my Mrs. Beasley doll (which I still have) and there stood my mom facing away from me. I asked her where she had been because I was scared. She turned around and looked at me and she said a few things but the only one I remember hearing was this “If you had never been born, your father and I would still be married.”
As a 48 year old woman who has been through a divorce, I understand why my mother felt that way. She was hurt, going through a lot and there was alcohol involved. I did ask her about this statement once when I was in my 30’s, but she has absolutely no recollection of ever saying it. I believe that. My own children tell me things I’ve said and I do not remember saying them. It doesn’t mean their feelings about it aren’t valid. That one sentence from my mother, something she doesn’t even remember, had affected me for most of my life. I truly believed I was responsible for their marriage falling apart. I was immediately and deeply saddened. I lost a piece of my soul that night.
As an adult, I can tell you having someone blame me for anything was a huge trigger for my anger to come out, especially when I knew it wasn’t my responsibility. PHEW! Boy howdy would I react violently. I’d throw cordless phones (went through 4 in one year) and I would reach into the depths of my mind to find the weakness of my accuser and I would use it against the person. If they were going to hurt me, I’d show them a thing or two. I was reacting to what was in my view, a huge injustice. In the end, I feel like what I did was worse because it was intentional. I had some serious self-forgiveness to do. I still don’t like being blamed for something which I know isn’t my fault, but I don’t get angry anymore. I’m not going to keep trying to convince someone of something I know I didn’t do. Either you believe me or you don’t. It’s that simple for me.
I step through the triggers instead of allowing them to consume me.
Peace be with you.