Privelege of Getting Over

I am musing on this idea live from my Airbnb in Asheville, NC. For the past few months, I've been thinking about this concept of "moving on" or "getting over" something as a privilege. Having grown up in a household where verbal emotional and physical abuse were hallmarks of Caribbean child-rearing, I learned to move through pain quickly and swiftly. It was a survival mechanism that allowed me to return to homeostasis after encountering horrible or challenging situations. When I reflect back on those times , I know I tend to minimize how harmful those things were. But at the time, I had boundaries and structures in place to prevent them from doing any real harm to me or my sense of self. I had largely learned to ignore the greater chaos within my household and look outward throwing myself into theatre and art. Insulated mentally and physically, I prided myself on how strong I was, rolling my eyes arrogantly at what I found to be the mundane and minor struggles of the kids in my class.

But as I reflect on this now, I think about how real trauma, trauma that pushes past the barriers and structures you've put in place to keep you safe, doesn't give you the option of a swift painless exit. Trauma keeps you

subconsciously bound, continually responding to triggers, and recalling past painful experiences. As someone with CPTSD, I know this well. What used to be a swift pivot from pain has now become a slow encasement into quicksand. I don't have the luxury of being able to just "move on" from what happened. Whether or not I want to, my body will continue to respond as it wants to, which is to continually bring the pain from trauma into the present . My brain, without my conscious consent, stored what happened to me over the past year as trauma and it is now on guard against anything that could harm me. And in doing so , it overcorrects. I manifest deep fear, fight, flight all at once. The fear I feel now is an echoing of the fear I felt last year of being harmed by a partner, except now intensified.

The experience of trauma is disruptive, difficult, and debilitating. I feel like I'm constantly pleading with a little CPTSD monster in my head to go away. "Please not now, it's Easter. No. no I just had a good dinner with my friends. No I just walked the Brooklyn Bridge. Please. I beg it to allow me to exist in peace , but it is relentless, caring little for when I want to deal with it". In my most activated states, I'm so in incapacitated that I can barely move and will involuntarily start to cry. My mom and best friend have both seen this. I've had cardiac episodes due to it, autoimmune issues. My body is doing something I'm not quite in control of. But that's the nature of trauma. It's a thief of agency. It takes the wheel from your hands and starts steering the car for you. And so you have to fight with your brain for control of your life again. You have to retrain it to not feel fear, to be comfortable again, to allow you to function "normally".

And that process, all of that deep neurological rewiring work takes time. And when you've been severely traumatized, as my therapist says I am yay, then you will take a very long time.  It's the unfortunate part : when hurt turns to harm and harm turns to trauma, you don't get to just snap your fingers, read a book and move on. It's not the same as just heartbreak or grief. Your brain has been rewired and it's going to take a long time to get your brain back to where it is able to process again.

I struggle with this a lot, being unable to just bounce back as I always have. Having been through heartbreak grief, disappointment, dysfunction, bullying, abuse etc etc, I wanted to just move forward as I always have . But trauma made me wait, sit with it. And in moments where I thought I was at peace or finally doing better, it'd come back to remind me it was still there, a monster quietly lurking within me.

And so today's message is that this stuff is hard, beyond difficult. And every day you wake up and choose to live is a feat. It's a long journey (I'm still here too). But be patient with yourself and with others. People who have undergone real traumatic experiences don't have the luxury of just moving on. So hold space for them. Approach their pain with empathy. Hold space for you and take as long as you need to return to your self. You will be someone different, but you won't be the version of the person you are now. It'll take time, but I'm rooting for you. I'm rooting for me too.

Thanks for Keeping Tabs