The body keeps the score, even when the memory has been completely erased
I'm not here to talk about the New York Times bestseller, so apologies to anyone who's come looking for an informed discussion on that. Apologies if I'm posting this in the incorrect place, please move or delete the post if it's inappropriate. I had something of a breakthrough in therapy recently and I don't have anyone to share this with (for reasons that may become obvious) so I'm turning to Tildes to vomit these thoughts out into the world somewhere.
Like a lot of us growing older, I've been spending a some time trying to better understand myself and come to peace with the person I am. One of the aspects people around me (and myself) find perplexing is how I'm able to be personable and friendly, even popular in some circles, but given the choice I will stay away from people as much as possible (except for a very select few I can count on one hand). I often joke that if it weren't for my wife and kids I'd probably be feral and live in the woods, bite anyone who tries to get too close. That lady that lived alone in a cave for over a year? Life goals. I thought I was just a mega introvert, but something my therapist and I discussed made me realise that that side of my personality may be (at least partly?) a manifestation of past trauma. So here is my villain origin story.
I've shared before on Tildes that I was very sick with cancer for a good chunk of my infancy. Whenever someone finds out I had cancer (it's left fairly visible marks, so the topic inevitably comes up) I always say it's ok, I don't remember it at all, so really it's my parents who lived through the trauma, not me, ha ha. I no longer believe that is entirely true. The body does keep the score after all. My therapist pointed out that I must have spent many moments alone dealing with the consequences, unable to fully share or understand what I was going through. Moments where I was physically manipulated whichever way, by people and instruments, dealing the nausea, the pain and the fatigue. I was too young to fully articulate my distress, ask for help (beyond crying) or seek solutions to the problems I faced. So for some moments at least I had only myself to rely on. Did the part of me that would normally seek out others die a little then?
My parents used to remark that as a child I never cried out, just tears streaming silently down my face. They speak of how I used to play contentedly alone for hours. How I rarely asked for help when I really needed it. Don't get me wrong, I'm able to form relationships with people, and I'm perfectly capable of functioning in society. I do seek out others for company, connection, validation, love, etc, and vice versa. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something broken in those connections. It feels like something is amiss, even if I've mostly come to terms with being this way. I'm left thinking - did the trauma (at least partly) make me who I am? Where does the trauma end and where do I begin? How many of us are potentially totally different people today because the body remembers when we have completely and utterly forgotten? And if that's the case, is that...ok?
I think this is an answer only you can give yourself. It’s a very personal thing after all.
But when you come to terms with trauma you grow. That means changes. When you change sometimes you realize that your needs have changed as well, and that includes what you need in your relationships. Perhaps you are beginning to realize you need some other form of intimacy you didn’t have before?
I personally feel that my trauma is a part of me. It’s something that can never be erased. But it’s also part of my past, and does not define all that I am. You have no choice but to build upon the foundation you have.
Thank you for the insightful comment, you're right there is no choice really. I just wonder if I've not been letting it get in the way without even realising it was getting in the way at all. And it's true, I'll have to figure it out for myself.
You're hitting on something I've been wondering about for a short while. Not long ago some colleagues and I were chatting and one of them was lamenting that they're new to the city, have no friends and are not fine with it. I joked that I have no friends and I'm fine with it.¹ But what if what I said isn't true? Maybe I'm not fine and I've just assumed I am?
In my youth I briefly spent some energy trying to find a sense of belonging, but that task proved impossible (for various reasons). So the logical conclusion was that I have to work on not needing to belong. Maybe I need to re-evaluate that stance. Your comment has certainly given me some food for thought.
¹ Note: Before anyone assumes I'm a horrible person for saying that, my colleagues are used to my weird humour and got a good laugh out of it. I'm also working on helping that colleague connect to other people here. I'm not devoid of empathy
I applaud your desire to better understand yourself. This sort of self-understanding usually (hopefully?) comes with a measure of empathy or compassion, and forgiveness for the measures beyond our control.
As for is it ok… I would ask what alternative there is. We only have this life.
Accommodation is vital, even if that is self-accommodation. I personally find externalization (thinking of myself as someone I know instead of as myself) as a helpful rubric through which I can vehiculate concepts of growth. Would I chastise this friend-me for not having reached out for help? Would I encourage him to celebrate his success at having done something he’d thought his trauma would prohibit him from doing?
I think of myself also in the analogy of the fish that dies if it stops moving. I too have only recently been able to acknowledge my earliest years as foundationally traumatic, and my traumas lend me to stagnancy, a pulling-inward, silencing myself. I don’t reach out to friends and loved ones; I don’t pursue interests; I actively resist meaningful experience. These behaviors intensify under stress.
When I feel that urge, I try to force myself to move in the exact opposite direction from what is instinctive. Sometimes it backfires: I am still learning to distinguish what is trauma-instinct and what is practical-instinct. But most of the time it works out.
Each new experience of doing something not fed by my trauma is a new pathway. It opens up doors that I had assumed would be closed forevermore to me because of things that happened to me before my memory begins.
If we are broken, we were broken too early to know any other way of living.
Thank you, your comment really resonates for me. I feel I could have written this paragraph:
I'm also a shut down and shut everything out when I'm really upset or stressed. I'm sorry to hear you too have been impacted by trauma early in life, though I'm heartened to hear you're finding ways to bloom regardless. Maybe there's hope for me after all ;)
This is beautifully put. I'll be carrying these words with me for a while.
We're all able to form some relationships with others (and with ourselves) , but for better or worse, we're faced with our own needs and insecurities and vulnerabilities too, which can be scary, especially if we find ourselves feeling alone. You may be discovering your own deeper needs. Maybe these feelings aren't just about trauma, but perhaps an emergence out of empathy and connection within yourself. You might be connecting with something in you that has never felt connection or support before. It's a healing process that occurs with trauma. Feeling pain, or feeling afraid isn't a bad thing. It may be a sign that you're really bringing care and support to a place that really needs it. I think you're doing really well.
Thank you for the kind words. It's scary to really look at your own self in the eyes and embrace what you see, but I'm hoping the healing process will finally bring peace.
You are welcome, and certainly you are on the right track.
Your post really meant a lot to me, and I think it's because I'm on a similar journey of self reflection. I haven't yet identified any particular trauma to attribute these feelings to, and I don't have any useful advice. All I can say is that I appreciate you sharing your perspective. Maybe it helps to know there is some stranger out there with which to form a sense of comradery, if only for a minute. It's certainly helping me. 🙂
I'm touched by your message, and happy to hear it's made at least one person feel less alone. Your response certainly helped me feel less alone too :) best of luck on your journey, I hope you find what you're looking for.