Weeping reading reviews of a book on childhood trauma... the ones where it's clear the person read the book to learn not bc they had trauma or were near it, but so they'd have a deep understanding for empathy's sake. Moves me in good & sad ways. It amazes me they took the time...
...not because it would help them personally, but because they wanted to understand what this kind of broken is like. That is such a surprise to me...it's shocking because I didn't know that happened. I didn't know about voluntary informed witnesses...my perspective has...
been like somehow it's "okay" bc it happened to me, I think that's bc of the isolation of having no purchase for the words... where does all of it go when it's never spoken of to anyone - it goes nowhere, it stays in you, on you, heavy like dead weight on your back, on your soul
and the constant feeling of that held breath, the one you take right before you go to speak but stop yourself short, because you're so used to bearing it alone you cant even conceive of someone helping you carry it for even the briefest moment, especially when the predominant...
...message you've gotten since childhood is "no one wants to hear it". It's really lonely to spend life repeatedly going through things that nearly destroy you and no one even speaks to you about it. As an example: I was in psychosis for 4 months. No one took me to a hospital...
and when I finally emerged from it, not therapist nor shrink ever said anything to me about it. Like, maybe discussing that extremely bizarre and Othering experience might help me learn from it or understand it or come to peace w it, as one would presume might occur in therapy...
Ultimately, it doesn't matter, except when it does. When it's lonely & you get reminders that most people didn't grow up the way you did. I feel like it wouldn't be as painful w the validation & understanding that comes from someone truly seeing the depth of what you endured...
but to be perfectly honest, I wonder if I can even know that for sure, bc trauma builds the house of your brain & existence on an inconsistent & unstable foundation, & you're always waiting for the Big One, and who can learn the truth about life & the world from a place of fear?
The thing is...

When someone shares their trauma with you, you dont need to fix it.

What the person needs is to be heard and to be FELT. And by that I mean, put yourself in their shoes. Imagine how it would've felt for you, how it would've changed everything from your feelings
about yourself and the world and other people to something as simple as how well you could plan your fucking day.

Speak from there. Speak from the person inside yourself who who can imagine themselves as a peer. It doesn't take a lot of talking.

Solidarity. Acceptance. Time.
Tender that to the traumatized can seem too precious to spend on the likes of us who, according to our harmers, got what we deserved.

Our minds have blame & shame to spare because literally they're locked in solitary. To connect, feel validated, heal. Wholly. What a heady dream.
@threadreaderapp unroll, please
I think it requires someone hearing not merely the one sentence summary, but the actual trajectory, the sum of all things.

A universe exists & there live all the things that remain unspoken, & I have one foot in it and one in this one, & spreading your legs that wide takes grit.

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