Category: inter-generational trauma

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Our shame narratives

We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honor the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness and affection.

Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them – we can only love others as much as we love ourselves.

Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal, and the withholding of affection damage the roots from which love grows. Love can only survive these injuries if they are acknowledged, healed and rare. ~Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection

We all carry with us narratives from our families of origin, narratives from our communities, narratives from our greater culture.  The stories of how we are too much this or not enough that.  The stories about how we should feel shame for what we want, what we do, who we are, that we even exist in the first place.

These narratives didn’t come to us out of the blue.  These are stories that have been cultivated for generations and generations, by a greater culture that sees humans as a commodity to be used, but not respected.  These stories stem from capitalism, authoritarianism, patriarchy, misogyny.  These stories stem from those in power wanting to stay in power and doing whatever they can to keep everyone else in line and doing their bidding.

That is where those stories come from on a meta level.  That is how they seep into our communities.  Into our families. Into our relationships.  Into us.

It is true that our own experiences of abuse feed these stories.  Complex trauma only makes those voices louder, only makes the stories seem more true.

And.

I would argue that the abuse of children – sexual, physical, neglect – all stem from this meta source.  

Why else would children be beaten if not to be forced to fall in line with the status quo?

Why else would children be molested if not because the abusers were indoctrinated in the idea that children exist to serve others, in any and all capacities?

Why else would children be neglected if the adults weren’t so busy trying to stay alive within a culture that wants to kill them?

I am not dismissing the responsibility of the abusers for their own actions.  Regardless of our own experiences of oppression and abuse we are always responsible for how we treat others in the world and whether or not we perpetuate harm.

What I am saying is that these narratives are fed to us from many, many different places.  Hearing these narratives is inescapable.  If it’s not our family, or our Self that’s telling us how we are too much or not enough and should feel shame, our greater culture definitely is.  

These stories are fed to us, from birth.  These stories seep into under skin, into our muscles, our sinew, our bones.  These stories keep us small, quiet, complicit, compliant.

These stories keep us stuck in harmful (to us and others) patterns and cycles.  

These stories impact the ways we relate to others.  They have us judging.  They have us expecting.  They have us assuming.  They have us demanding.

These stories keep us disconnected from our Self.  Our true self.  Our tend, broken open heart, Self.  The self that knows, in its very being these narratives are total bullshit.  The Self that asks over and over, why do you keep believing these lies?

Because a truth is, we are not too much.

A truth is, we are exactly enough.

A truth is, we get to take up space.  And there is plenty of space for everyone.

A truth is, we get to state our wants, whatever they are, without shame. 

A truth is, we get to have our boundaries respected.  

A truth is, we are exactly enough just as we are.

A truth is, we can do the work of untangling all this cultural indoctrination and trauma.

Let’s do it.  Let’s undo the generations of training we have living in our bodies and minds.  Let’s begin to feel good in our own skin.  Let’s find our ways to connection, real connection, without losing pieces of ourselves in the process.

We can do it.  I know we can.  

/../

This essay was originally published in my weeklyish newsletter on January 14, 2020. To receive my most recent essays you can subscribe here.

We will be exploring these narratives in my seven week writing course Embodied Writing :: Too much, not enough, & shame. We begin Monday, January 27, 2020. To learn more and register, click here.

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Reclaiming our Self, reclaiming our life

What makes you come alive? What keeps you going ? Is there hope in your heart still or has the weariness of the world attached itself to you like a limpet leaving you afraid and passionless? Do you wake up with a smile and stars in your eyes after restless, feverish soul-searching in the night? Do you dream, dream beyond what is possible and beyond the narrow confines of your jaded existence? How old do you feel? How much in love can you fall? How much step is there in your dance, o how many notes left in your song? Have you decided to sit by and watch others dance or weep at the dying notes of your own swan song?

Shake your lethargy. Come alive to innocence once more. Believe past your own jaded cynicism. Pretend you are young once more. Jump up with a spring in your feet, fall breathlessly in love again. Let the colors of the world wash over your walls, brushing the greys away. Let the sunlight of hope flood through your doubting self, o let the music play.

Dance till you ache and drop, laugh till you cry. Sing till your lungs burst, and journey till the very road ends and dream by the moonless starless nights. Sleep with a secret smile on your lips, your body flush with the imprints of lips. Come alive, my dearest …reclaim yourself from the living dead. ~Srividya Srinivasan

After a very traumatic year (2017), followed by a year of trying to find my footing again (2018), I welcomed the new year of 2019.

As 2018 came to and end and 2019 began, I felt a huge shift within me that, if I’m honest, started in the spring of 2018, but that I wouldn’t begin to recognize until October of that year, and wouldn’t fully acknowledge or accept until that mid-December.

This is what our personal change and growth can look like.  The changes can be happening within us, without us being fully aware or wanting to fully admit them.  And yet, they are there, they exist, they are happening, and in so many ways we can’t stop them.

Entering 2019, I felt I was on the other side of the traumatic events of 2017.  I had a sense of calm and peace and happiness that I didn’t know if I could say I had ever truly felt before in my life.

Getting to this place, accepting that I was in this place, was a process.  Acknowledging that I actually felt freedom, calm, joy… it had been a process of reclaiming who I truly am.

Over the years, I can see how I got lost in adulthood.  In motherhood.  In wifehood.  In the idea of what it means to be a “grown up” and do “grown up” things.  I knew that parts of me were being lost in this process, and told myself, that is just part of becoming, being, an adult.

It was a good story.

A truth is, we don’t have to lose who we are in order to become an adult.  We don’t have to sacrifice the things we like and love about ourselves in order to be “good parents” or spouses/partners, or employees.

True growing up doesn’t look like stuffing those parts of ourselves that we love, that actually truly define us, down.  It doesn’t look like “playing a role” because that’s how we think adults/partners/parents “should” act.  

True growth, and growing up, looks like celebrating who we are.  Yes, our interests will grow and shift. Yes, there will be times when we need to prioritize others and put our own wants and needs on hold for a period of time (as in, not forever).

We all lose ourselves from time to time.  It takes courage to acknowledge this, and even more courage to begin the process of reclaiming who we are, what we want, what we love.  

Coming home to our bodies is part of that process.  Relearning who we were and who we want to be is part of that process.  Reclaiming our own truth, our own wants, our own needs.

Reclaiming is part of our process of personal change and growth, and also part of our trauma processing work.  Reclaiming who we are, at our core, reclaiming our life as out own, so that we can stop surviving and begin thriving, can be intense.

And I would say, this is what truly being an adult is about.

/../
This essay was originally published in my weekly(ish) newsletter on January 28, 2019. It has been edited and revised for publication here. To receive my most recent essays, subscribe to my newsletter here.

We will be exploring reclaiming parts of our Self and life in the seven week program Embodied Writing that begins on January 27, 2020. To learn more and register, click here.

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Trauma & releasing shame

Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change. ~Brene Brown,I Thought It Was Just Me: Women Reclaiming Power and Courage in a Culture of Shame

Shame is a soul eating emotion. ~Carl Gustav Jung

So often survivors have had their experiences denied, trivialized, or distorted. Writing is an important avenue for healing because it gives you the opportunity to define your own reality. You can say: This did happen to me. It was that bad. It was the fault & responsibility of the adult. I was—and am—innocent. ~Ellen Bass, The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse

One of the ironies of trauma, is that for those of us who have experienced it, particularly relational trauma, we feel shame.  We, the victims, the survivors, the ones who were harmed, feel the shame of the experience.  We carry the burden of being “tainted” or “damaged” or “broken.”  

This shame often leads us to silencing ourselves, even if the perpetrator didn’t specifically tell us not to talk about what happened.  We don’t tell when the abuse is happening or immediately after the assault occurred.  We don’t tell the story because we are afraid of what people will think, what they will say, how they will respond.

We don’t tell because we somehow think what happened was our fault.  That we somehow encouraged the other person to harm us, that if only we’d done x or hadn’t done y.

When we are living in shame, and unable to share our stories, we are also unable to deeply connect with others.  We don’t allow ourselves to be truly
seen and so intimacy, deep emotional intimacy, isn’t possible.  

Sometimes though, it’s not only others that we can’t share our stories with.  Sometimes we can’t admit our own stories to ourselves.  Or we can admit parts of them, but not others.  Or we can acknowledge the stories but are unable to examine them, explore them, become curious about the ways these events from our lives are still impacting us today. 

The events from our past do impact us in our present, and will continue to, until we are able to dig into our own unconscious and automatic reactions, including the stories we have about being too much and not enough.  

Shame runs rampant in those stories.  I think most of us can make a long list of all the ways we aren’t enough (not smart enough, not pretty enough, not vocal enough, not articulate enough, not successful enough…) as well as all the ways we are too much (too loud, too sexual, too smart, too large, too picky…).  We are never “right;” there is always something “wrong” with us, something that needs to be “fixed.”

Trauma does this to us.  Our culture does this to us.  And often times, intentionally or now, our families of origin do this to us.  Unearthing, unraveling, examining these stories is no easy feat.  And doing it while remaining present in our bodies can be even more complex.

Shame comes with trauma.  Releasing the shame takes intention, time, practice and requires us to come into our bodies, examining our histories and our stories and seeing how they impacted us, and how that isn’t our fault.

Because what was done to us, what happened to us was not, and is not, our fault.

And.

Changing patterns, cycles, and harmful behaviors we have because of these experiences is our responsibility so we do not continue to pass trauma on to future generations.

/../

This essay was originally published to my weekly(ish) newsletter on January 14, 2019. It has been revised and edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays you can subscribe to my newsletter here.

We will be exploring our stories of being too much, not enough, and the shame that comes with all that in the seven week program Embodied Writing :: Too Much, Not Enough, & Shame. We begin on Monday, January 27, 2020. There is a sliding scale fee. Learn more and register here.

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The space between stimulus & response

Human freedom involves our capacity to pause between the stimulus and response and, in that pause, to choose the one response toward which we wish to throw our weight. The capacity to create ourselves, based upon this freedom, is inseparable from consciousness or self-awareness. ~Rollo May, The Courage to Create

Creating that space between stimulus and response is not an easy feat.  It takes practice and intention.  Those of us who live with trauma and highly activated sympathetic nervous systems (fight/flight), have a very clear understanding of how challenging it can be to create that space.  To shift our ways of being from a wounded animal who simply lashes out at anyone or thing that comes near them to a more self aware and thoughtful response that is not fully based on our triggered emotional state. 

Creating this space isn’t about not feeling our emotions and sensations.  Instead it is about slowing down how we react to these emotions and sensations.  It is slowing down when we are in a state of overwhelm and considering what all is contributing to those feelings, what we actually have control of, and how we want to be in these moments.

Most of us living with complex trauma not only have activated nervous systems that are either on extra high or extra low alert (or alternate between the two at rapid pace), we also have a visceral sense of not being heard.  Those of us who experienced childhood trauma either were convinced to keep the “secret” by our abuser, or we told people and either they didn’t believe us, told us we were making it up, or told us to not complain and that it ‘wasn’t that bad’. 

So not only do we have activated systems that see almost everything as a threat, we don’t know how to express our feelings – emotions and sensations – in a way that can be received by another.  We either snap and yell or we totally shut down and “cut off” by not speaking or interacting with the person who we feel caused us harm.  These reactions are automatic in some ways and they can be slowed down, we can slow ourselves down, and shift from the automatic reaction to a more intentional response. 

It takes time and a willingness to practice self-regulation skills to come into your body.  It won’t happen over night.  We will all fall back on old habits from time to time.  And these shifts in being can happen.

The shifts in our ways of being in the world aren’t always neat or easy or even pleasant.  Sometimes the slowing down process can be incredibly uncomfortable.  

We need to be willing to sit a bit in the unknown of shifting and transforming.  To have the courage to move from the comfort of what we know into the possibilities of what is unknown to us outside of our imagination. 

We were all raised in environments that taught us how to interact with others, either by example of how the adults treated each other or by how the adults treated us as children.  These patterns and ways of being were likely passed down through generations.  These cycles are entrenched in our psyches as well as our cellular memories.  They run deep.

And.

We can break the patterns and cycles that have been passed down to us.  We can shift our ways of being.  We do not need to allow what has happened to us to define us or how we are in the world.

Yes, there are things we cannot change.  Yes, this is not easy work.  

And.

We can learn to calm and regulate our nervous system.  We can learn to create that space between stimulus and response.  We can learn to experience our feelings and to express them without causing harm to ourselves or to others.

It takes time, intention, and practice.  It requires a willingness to live in that unknown in-between space that is so uncomfortable.  We need to develop our self compassion.  

Because at the end of the day we all need each other.  So learning how to be in relationship with others, while maintaining boundaries, is an important part of our work.

/../

This essay was originally published in my weekly(ish) newsletter on July 8, 2018. It has been revised and edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays you can subscribe here.

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We need each other

The world of intimate bonds is the world of emotions—a field of reactions and hidden desires for safety and acceptance that we all long for.  All of us. ~Joseph Schaub, Divorce (or not): A guide

One of the things that trauma does is encourage us to isolate.  It encourages us to be away from our family, friends, intimate partners, and communities.  How this looks for each of us is different.  It may look like us actually appearing to be a hermit and not interacting with people or it may look like we are incredibly social, with many friends and connections, yet all of those relationships are only surface level and we never reveal (much of) who we truly are, our fears, our wants, our needs.

Both scenarios (and a million in-between) are isolation.  When we do not allow ourselves to deeply connect with others, that is one way our trauma shows up.  Our not allowing this deep connection is a signal for our desperate need for a sense of safeness and acceptance, our need for love and a sense of belonging.

When we have unprocessed trauma living within us, it means our ability to have a sense of safeness — with others or with ourselves — is stilted.  For many of us living with trauma, the traumatic events we experienced were perpetrated by people we trusted, people we possibly literally depended on for our actual literal survival.  These types of betrayals, especially when perpetrated over and over throughout our childhoods teach us that we can’t rely on another, that the world isn’t safe, that those who claim to love you will only cause harm. 

We internalize these lessons and they form the development of our neural pathways that then inform us as adults, once we are far from the harm, how to be in relationship with others.

David Richo, in his book How To Be An Adult in Relationships, talks about the “5 A’s” that make up our emotional needs as humans.  These are: attention, acceptance, appreciation, affection, and allowing.

We all need someone to pay attention to us in a way that builds us up.

We all need to feel accepted, just as we are, in all our messy and complicated human glory.

We all need to feel appreciated for our contributions to our families, our friendships, our communities, our world.

We all need affection, be that loving words or begin physically held.

We all need allowing, to be allowed to shift and change and grow, allowed to be complex, complicated, and even contradictory.

All humans have these needs.  For those us who did not have most or any of these needs met as children, we have that much more of a desperation to have these needs met as an adult.

But even though we have this requirement to have these basic human needs met, we don’t trust that anyone will ever meet them.  

Trauma is a complex and contradictory thing in and of itself.  As a survival mechanism we isolate and yet isolation can literally kill us.  Without the love and support of our community (be that chosen family, blood relatives, competent trauma informed professionals or hopefully a bit of all of the above), we slowly or sometimes quickly will bring about physical disease, intense loneliness and hopelessness,  and sometimes a depression so deep there feels like there is no way out.

But our early life experiences have formed the ideas that we cannot trust other humans to have our basic human emotional needs met. And it takes a great act of courage and strength to reach out and ask for help.  And frankly, some days we don’t have that courage or strength.

So how do we shift this?  How do we find the resources to move through and past the fears of betrayal?  How do we develop our own sense of safeness and trust?

It takes work.  Patience.  Time. Intention.  Mostly, it takes work.

I deeply believe that we need to do the work of calming our nervous systems, connecting deeply to our boundaries and reclaiming our bodies as our own, finding our ways to our own center and ground.  And then we need to continue this work through deep embodiment and trauma processing work.

Then slowly that sense of safeness, and our ability to trust others and ourselves, will grow.

We are not meant to do this processing and healing work in isolation.  In fact, we actually cannot successfully do it in isolation.  We need others, we need to do this work in relationship.  This is the point of therapy, to help a person heal in a safe relationship so they then can take what they learn (and the ways they have shifted) out into the world and apply it to their other relationships.

Of course, therapy is not for everyone and frankly not all therapists (sadly) are competent.  

However, that does not change the reality that we need to do this work of healing, of developing our sense of safeness, of cultivating trust, within relationships.

It does not make us weak to need other people, it makes us human.  It does not mean we have a character flaw when we yearn for deep connections with others, it makes us human.  It does not make us “less than” or “too much” to ask another for support, it makes us human.

Where this is tricky perhaps, is that we can’t rely on any singular person to fill all our emotional (or any other kind of) needs.  No one person will ever be able to do that. We need a community of people and we need to be able to rely on ourselves in way that is helpful for us and not harmful.

Stephanie Bennett-Henry wrote :
No one is going to love you exactly like you imagine.  No on is ever going to read your mind and take every star from the sky at the perfect time and hand it to you.  No one is going to show up at your door on a horse, with a shoe you lost.  Do you understand?
That’s why you have to love yourself enough, so that any other love just adds more candles to the cake you’ve already iced.

Our work in processing our trauma is loving ourselves, it is the cake and the icing of our making.  But we don’t need to, and I would argue can’t, do this work alone.  We build ourselves up as we build our relationships, our relationships grow as we do, we learn to trust others as we learn to trust ourselves.

It’s a bit of a chicken and egg conundrum, honestly.  The point being however, we need both.  Both our own willingness to do the work, and people to support us and or guide us in this work.  

It is true that no one person is ever going to meet all our emotional needs.  Knowing this is part of our own maturation process.  However, we can have a community of people, even a relatively small community of a handful of folks, who together can help us get our needs met.

That’s how we are supposed to be.  In community.  Serving each other and ourselves.

/../

This essay was originally published in my weekly newsletter on June 10, 2018. It has been revised and edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays, you can subscribe to my weekly(ish) newsletter here.

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