The Category Is…Childhood Trauma

I’ve always heard that the childhood we have can greatly influence the rest of our lives but I never really understood what it meant until I was faced with life or death and had to dig into my own childhood to survive.

I’ve written briefly about some of the things that fueled my own experience before but this aims to dive a bit deeper and get more personal. It’s important to note that childhood trauma can include a number of different things, which is what makes it so complex. Childhood trauma affects brain development and can influence attachment styles, spark abandonment issues, lead to high levels of stress, cause mental health issues and lead to difficulty handling emotions, among other things. Imagine realising one would need to address all of these in order to have a better quality of life.

While I was going through my most intense depressive episode to date (during which I had thoughts of taking my own life), I started working with one of my therapists so I could learn to understand why it was so hard for me to overcome certain challenges and be “better”. Those of you who know me personally, know that I am a firm believer in therapy of different kinds, because some things you just can’t work through on your own — and trust me, I tried, for a long time, to do it on my own.

As time progressed, what the work revealed would ultimately shock me and before I had a chance to catch my breath, something else would be brought to the fore, prompting me to work and sift through my pain even more. A lot of things started to make sense but this also meant an increase in anxious thoughts and responses.

For me, a big part of my trauma comes from the relationship with my parents which created both a mother wound and a father wound. Although the wounds varied in size and intensity, they all played a role in how I navigated childhood, adolescence and now adulthood. Extended family also left wounds, most of which I wouldn’t have unearthed until recently, and didn’t think to look at as harmful.

As shared in a previous post, I’ve always been sensitive. I just never had the chance to nurture that side of myself because softness and sensitivity had no place in my house, and I often surrounded myself with people who did not appreciate those traits because that was all I knew. The absence of my parents and growing up as an only child (mostly) meant that I only had myself to depend on for a number of things all before the age of 10.

This also meant that as a child, I was shouldering a lot more responsibility than many of my peers. It was a rather lonely childhood and a lot of what I experienced led to the development of what the experts call hyper-independence which, as you can guess, is sometimes a severe pain point in my relationships because I can’t seem to trust anyone enough to let them care for me in the way I know I deserve.

Additionally, as an overachieving child, I was never allowed to be anything else. Academic life was chosen for me, which came with its own personal pressures and impact on self worth. I had often felt like I was only as good as my last grade or only as worthy as the last exciting moment. As I grew older, I tried to rebel and have what I thought was the authentic teenage experience (as seen on TV). I was tired of being what everyone expected but if I wasn’t the version of myself that people wanted, love, attention and affection seemed to slowly (but surely) be withdrawn.

What message did this send to me? That I had to constantly please the people around me so I wouldn’t be abandoned and unloved. It also taught me that conflict with some of the people in my life was a no-no, even if it was necessary for the development of healthy relationships. So I fought to become that person again and would put myself under immense pressure to achieve and please and be.

As an adult, it meant that I often gave myself no grace when I stumbled and as you can imagine, I had difficulty giving grace to others when they did not please me. It meant I was constantly fighting battles, no matter how tired I was. It meant that I was always the strong friend everyone could turn to. It meant that I would often put my own needs on the back burner, even if doing so was detrimental to my mental or physical health. It meant that I had to do everything on my own even when I know I needed help. It meant that I always had to prove myself and be the best at everything I did.

When I graduated with my Masters degree, I missed the distinction by one point and my name was called under the wrong faculty and program during graduation. After collecting my degree and posing for my picture, I exited the auditorium, stood outside in the dark and cried. I had worked so hard for so long and now my moment was ruined. That was when I realised I had to put more work into changing the things I told myself. I had just achieved a huge thing. Why wasn’t I happy? I had spent so much time trying to be the best for others that I couldn’t see that I was already the best for myself. I robbed myself of celebrating an achievement.

The work to ‘cure’ childhood trauma is one that requires focus, grace and self-reflection and healing is not as linear as we would like it to be. I’m still very much in the thick of it and it gets frustrating more times than it doesn’t but what I do know is that I want a better life and that means sticking it out for as long as I can. We’re all in this together.

Love and light.

Trace