Complex Trauma

I used to loathe silence. I was one of those “I can rest when I’m dead” type of people. In my early twenties, I had a color-coded schedule that was filled with tasks & activities from the moment I woke up until I fell into bed each night. I was so over-the-top that I harshly judged people who didn’t engage in the same level of activity as me. It worked pretty well for me, to a point. Since I never rested (and felt anxious when I did rest), my body had to create reasons for me to rest… like frequent illnesses, headaches, and injuries. And let’s face it, resting in that way is ZERO fun.

I see this same “go, go, go” attitude among many of the people I encounter day-to-day. There’s the guy who has to zoom around me in traffic so he can get to the next stoplight faster, only to sit in his car right next to mine. There is the harried mom trucking her kids from school to ballet to soccer to tutoring to home. Maybe you don’t need more examples because this might be exactly how you live your life right now. I’m here to let you know there is a better way! One of the hardest lessons to learn in life is that we all have limits. Human time, energy, and experience is finite (or at least as we generally perceive these things). in the end, I think choosing to rest yields the same balance of activity and being forced to stop by pain or illness.

The good news? We are a very flexible species and open to learning new ways of doing/being. Today, rest may very well be my favorite thing. Leisurely mornings lying in bed, listening to my own heartbeat, my own breath, my Self. I used to be deathly afraid of what I would find if I slowed down – or heaven forbid, STOPPED moving – for any length of time. Looking back at those old patterns of mine, I marvel at how I didn’t even know I was doing it. It’s just who I was, my whole way of being, because constant movement kept me safe and earned me a lot of positive feedback from the world around me. You’ve probably seen the memes that go something like, “Turns out my whole personality is a collection of trauma responses.” Yeah. That’s a tough one to realize. So thank you, thank you silence.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this… If you’ve been running so fast and so long that you’re not really sure who you are, I see you. If you’re afraid to slow down, I see you. If you have the sneaking suspicion that there might be a better way to do things, I see you and I have some ideas about finding that state of better you’re seeking. I know it’s hard to trust anyone but yourself. You’ve been managing all by yourself for so very long. I see you. I get it. Your sneaking suspicion is right: Better is available.

Apparently all of my posts are going to have song lyrics as titles because I’m so often inspired by music! I’m learning to let inspiration simmer, to float up from the depths, instead of using my old strategy of pushing and trying and getting frustrated before ultimately giving up. As I allowed different ideas to simmer (and noticed their tendency to flee when I grasped too quickly), this Pink Floyd song occurred to me. “There is no pain, you are receding. A distant ship, smoke on the horizon … I have become comfortably numb.”

Now what does this have to do with complex trauma, perfectionism, and healing? Quite a lot. When life is overhelmingly painful, we seek ways to soothe that pain (all too common in the era of late stage capitalism). Drug use, as suggested by the song, is one way to do this but it’s certainly not the only way. Some of us become dissociated overachievers. Perhaps many of us. We turn off our feelings and we figure out what our environment needs us to be in order for us to both stay safe and to get the care that any human needs. It typically works, often for a long time. But the challenge here is that this pattern is entirely unsustainable. When the pattern begins, it’s necessary for survival. Yet long after we’ve survived, the pattern persists and we have trouble shifting out of it.

By the time I realized the full weight of the mask I’d been hiding behind for decades, it wasn’t something I could easily put down. My partner, some colleagues, and various healers pointed it out to me over and over and over again until I could finally see just how heavy it was, how draining. I am so thankful their patience and support, especially because I wasn’t exactly a gracious recipient of said feedback! Once their reflections started landing, I wanted desperately to put that mask down permanently, but I had “promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.” (I express emotions via song lyrics and poems; a post for another time). I was entangled in three jobs and probably still volunteering at church – when I say I’m a recovering overachiever, I mean it – plus I was completely exhausted and experiencing health problems. Y’all… I got shingles TWICE in my 30s and it isn’t typically an illness that strikes younger people. Not only that, but I also had a severe exacerbation of lifelong asthma that at one point left me thinking I had lung cancer. See, the attitude of “I’ll rest when I’m dead” is a great way to get dead.

Others in this U.S. capitalist system really like when folks buy into the hustle and grind mentality. They tend to like it MUCH less when anyone, especially women and other marginalized groups, start setting boundaries and declining invitations. Still, my extraction from overachieving had begun! Over the next several years, I slowly exited the two additional jobs I had beyond my full time job in non-profit mental health. I rested a lot and no doubt cried even more, as I learned just how much pain I’d been running from in my life. As noted above, the running worked. It got me far enough away from those who harmed me that I could find my own way. The trouble was, I got so much praise for all the pleasing and smiling and performing… I had no idea it was a set of survival skills. I thought it was me. The reality is, those qualities can indeed be who we are at our core. But they get twisted up when we’re trying to survive an environment that is actively harmful or more benignly, poorly attuned to our needs.

I genuinely enjoy solving problems, laughing, connecting, teaching, being silly, or fighting like hell for what’s right. The younger version of me only knew how to do those things as a type of performance. She didn’t know how to rest, how to have fun without “earning” it, or heaven forbid, how to truly BE herself (especially if that was going to upset someone). The mask was everything. Because it protected the real me hiding underneath it. The real me who was punished as a child for expressing needs or wants or instincts that challenged the chaos being created by unhealthy adults. This is where healing can be rough. We see the mask, but need time to untangle all the ways it’s connected to and suffocating our true self. If you’re doing that work already, stay the course. I understand how painful it is and how frustratingly long the process can feel. Healing takes the time it takes. Pushing yourself harder will only create setbacks. I’m sure you’ve experienced that yourself, so you don’t have to just take my word for it. Leave the drag performances for drag queens and kings! Wishing you moments of calm and safe connection as you keep finding your way back to the real you.