Trauma, Parenting, and Suffering
So, that was another lengthy hiatus from the blog. I’ve been sick. I’ve been sick with a cold (“just a cold”, if you believe my negative COVID tests), but before that I was “sick” in another way. And I really want to share what that was like, because one of the things I most want to do with this blog is to share the stuff that no one really wants to talk about, and normalize it.
Normalize vulnerable feelings we hide, even from ourselves. I just wrote about loneliness last time, and I’m pretty certain there’s a correlation between stuffing away our most vulnerable feelings and loneliness.
Where to begin? I guess I could set the stage by saying that I get very weepy and sensitive in the days leading up to my period. I don’t track my cycle, but I know when it’s going to happen, pretty much to the day, based on how I’m expressing my emotions. There’s that moment of self-awareness when I realize, “ok, this is too much crying, I’m about to get my period”.
And there’s the issue of trauma. In case you haven’t noticed, this has been running through everything I’ve written about until now. It’s the thing I haven’t been able to talk about, because people’s feelings will get hurt; but I most need to talk about. When I avoid it, I feel like I’m gaslighting myself: as if I’m believing other people’s past reactions that say it didn’t happen. It did happen. It *is* trauma. And it accompanies me in everything I do in life, from work to friendships, but most crucially in parenting.
How does trauma affect parenting?
One of the ways trauma impacts my parenting is when my kids, particularly one of them, trigger very old and unresolved hurt from my childhood. What does this look like? For example: yelling at me, or ignoring me, or treating me disrespectfully. To be clear, this is normal modern-day childhood behaviour and I know it. They are not doing anything *wrong*; they’re still young and learning. It’s not them. It’s me, and my reaction. When something like that happens, I am a child again. I am not some healthy grown-up who knows just what to do to encourage more respectful ways of expressing their feelings. No. I am a small child who is powerless and helpless; who has no voice or agency; who doesn’t know how to get out of a very bad situation. Sometimes, I can stay on top of it. But sometimes, like when I’m PMS’ing and who knows what other factors are at play, I collapse into a little ball of helplessness, and cry my eyes out, and feel no better afterwards.
Consequences, or the “second arrow”: I feel like a bad parent, because I’m perpetuating a cycle. I can’t model healthy responses because I’m trapped in the mind of a powerless child, who hasn’t the faintest idea how to parent other children. And I feel lonely, because I can’t think of anyone to talk to in that moment who wouldn’t bring their own issues into it, and be available to listen with understanding and compassion. I have to do that for myself, first and foremost, and ultimately I do, but in that darkest moment, I cannot and there is no one available who can.
I have a belief that parenting is harder for me than for most people because of the emotional trauma I experienced as a child. And yet I know that trauma is all too common. I know this from talking to so many moms, working through their own past issues as they do their best to do a better job. And women and men who aren’t even certain they *can* do a better job, and choose not to attempt it at all. I believe that even the people who inflicted the trauma on us were doing their best, and were trapped in their own cycles of trauma. I believe, like Ticht Nhat Hanh said, that “the way out is in".
I am also moved to share this experience, as an act of rejection of its power over me. As a liberation. As a small light that might show another person they are not, in fact, alone in these feelings. I am also there. I also suffer.
Do you also suffer, sometimes?
Suffering is hard to admit when, through years of training, you have learned that the response will be: a) denial (“you’re exaggerating”), b) condescension (“you poor thing”), c) avoidance (“let’s change the subject”), d) dismissiveness (“other people have it worse”, “cheer up!”)…and so many more. These are actual responses I’ve received, over the years.
Suffering is hard to admit when the person you admit it to has no self-awareness of their own suffering, and cannot, simply cannot, open up to yours. Sometimes they want to, they have the best intentions, but, as one therapist said to me, “your vulnerability triggers the other person’s vulnerability”, and sometimes people just don’t know what to do with that.
So what do you do? What do I do, faced with that situation? I am not really a hopeless person, despite how I may feel in the depths of my triggered state. I may be doomed, but I am eternally energetic, driven to pull myself out of every hole, and hopefully share that ability with others.
I bravely and compassionately face whatever demon has gripped me by the throat. Who are you? Why are you acting this way? Where did you come from and what do you need from me to dissipate?
I reach out. I reach out without giving up (if someone is unavailable, or unhelpful, try someone else). I reach out to a wide variety of sources of comfort (music, books, articles, yoga, walking, meditation, journaling, etc.), and, increasingly, I take care of myself by respecting my limits and protecting myself. If someone is unhelpful, stop asking them for help. Stop trying to explain yourself to people who don’t understand.
I take the time I need. I don’t try to “snap out of it”, because I know I am feeling a little better every day, and I’m not scared of getting stuck in this state. I take care of myself this way, by respecting my needs, and giving myself the care I deserve and that we all deserve. This is self-compassion.
I think about what I can do better to protect myself from the harshest waves in the future. Am I practicing self-care as regularly as I need to? If not, how can I set up a more regular practice? Do I need to speak with my therapist? What advice would she give me, and can I start implementing it right away? This is taking responsibility for your own life.
Resources
If you are interested, here’s a thorough book on parenting after trauma: Parenting from the Inside Out, by Dan Siegel.
A great first-person description of parenting and trauma is in this episode of Janet Lansbury’s podcast Unruffled. At the end of the transcript, there’s even more good stuff from the mom she interviewed: highly recommend!
If you’re interested in personal relationships after trauma, here’s an article to start with: Am I Too Traumatized to be in a Relationship? by Anna Aslanian.