Why I Didn't Want to Admit I was Living With Trauma
- Brina B
- Mar 3, 2021
- 5 min read
Creating a mental health blog wasn’t on my agenda, but like many people 2020 and 2021 has been rough. I lost 4 people during this time, two of them immediate family members, so grief has been my accessory for the past year and some change. However, if I'm being honest grief has always been part of my life. Grief for loss of life and the disappointment of what could have been.
While the pandemic may have ignited a conversation about mental health, it’s always been around plaguing the life of survivors. Trauma is more than research, think pieces, and self care tips, it’s a lived experience that impacts the quality of life for so many people. I want to enhance the conversations about trauma and truly expand on what it means to be a Trauma Survivor. I want to do my part to make this world a little better for Trauma Survivors by weakening the sounds of judgment and replacing it with a familiar face. I don’t know how long the posts in this series will be, so it will focus less on length and more on context.
I'm Sabrina, and I'm a Trauma Survivor.
Growing up I always felt different, like something was missing. It often felt like everybody knew a secret that I had to figure out on my own, with very little help. As others were growing and evolving I often felt like I was being reborn everyday, experiencing life through the lens of a newborn baby. It was frustrating because I didn’t know how to explain what made me feel different. As I grew older, I eventually realized that my trauma was playing a role in this feeling. However, I still tried to live with the frustration because to be honest, it was easier to feel frustrated than to talk about my trauma.
As a Trauma Survivor I felt a lot of shame and embarrassment at the beginning of my journey. Therefore, keeping things bottled inside was the way I tried to cope. I was the type that tried to succeed my way out of trauma, so I would tell myself that if I just ignored it and focused on getting good grades it would go away. That was my mindset throughout elementary, middle, high, and college. Shame and embarrassment silenced me for a long time, and school is the only place I felt comfortable expressing myself.
In addition to feeling shame and embarrassment, I was also afraid to speak because I wanted to feel like I wasn’t living with trauma. If people didn’t know I was experiencing trauma, for a few hours I could pretend I wasn’t. Although I’m not a fan of the word “normal” I have to admit, the fewer people who knew about my trauma the more normal I felt. I didn’t feel like the newborn baby in the group, I felt like part of the crowd. I felt like I was just like the girls my age. However, this feeling would only last for so long before I was reminded that I couldn’t relate to the conversations around me.
While my childhood has moments of joy, it was plagued by the fact that I was raised by a single grandparent. I love and appreciate the sacrifices my grandmother made, yet I would be lying if I said we didn’t struggle. For a good chunk of my trauma experience the focus was on maintaining basic needs. My mind was so focused on it that I developed the habit of seeing the world and interacting in tunnel vision. During this tunnel vision mode all I cared about and could focus on was doing what I can to make life easier for my grandmother and pretending I was normal. If anything attempted to interrupt this vision, I would buckle down harder on maintaining focus. For some, it came off as me being rude, self centered, or lacked empathy for what others may have been going through. In reality, it’s the only way I knew how to keep my head above water. I had to hold on strong to keep the bottom from falling out, to keep the emotional exhaustion from tapping me on the shoulder and slowing me down. It was never about anybody in particular, it was always about how I can keep the stress from taking me out. And for me, feeling normal was the only thing I could "control."
We live in a world where phrases like “Who hurt you?” and “problematic” are often used to shame people into personal growth and while I agree that we need to take accountability for our actions, survivors deserve space to unpack and figure out how trauma shaped them. That doesn't mean people are obligated to help, nor is it expected. Some survivors may find themselves alone on this journey (if you're alone on this journey, visit the resources page). The point I'm trying to make is that trauma isn’t simply having a bad day. It’s a lived experience that shapes how we communicate, interact, and perceive the world. To some that may sound like an excuse, but it’s simply the truth.
A truth I was silent about for many years. Shame silenced my voice. I allowed others to silence me due to their judgement or lack of understanding. I silenced myself to feel normal. My voice remained silent for years, which means I remained in tunnel vision even longer. It's hard to explain how this time felt because part of it felt comfortable and predictable, which was great for the chronic stress I was experiencing because it gave me something consistent, yet I was aware that I was lying to myself and others. Still, I pushed forward with living in tunnel vision into my college years, and even after I graduated from college. Why? Well, I didn't want to fail.
I didn't want to admit I was a statistic. I was a Black American living in a single grandparent home in the hood, growing up during a time when representation was a 2 parent household or a 1 parent household with a single mother leading the way. I didn't fit into either one of those categories, so I said nothing. I didn't socialize much because that would mean bringing people into my world of trauma. I closed myself off because I wanted to go to the people and feel normal rather than let them into my trauma secret and fail. This way of being definitely impacted how I communicate and interact, but I didn't care. I just wanted to feel normal on the inside. I just wanted the weight of trauma and chronic stress to go away, even if it meant putting on a mask and pretending I was okay and normal. It was the addiction that kept me from admitting I was living with trauma.
In this post I wanted to be honest about what kept me from admitting that I was living with Trauma. Sometimes its helpful to talk about the ugly parts of trauma, without providing a solution, because we have to get real about why we're running away from the truth. I ran away from the truth because the desire to feel normal was stronger than being honest with myself and others. I'm grateful to have a support system that saw through that and loved me despite the front I was putting on. They aren't required nor do I expect them to, so I appreciate them helping me through the process and not giving up on me.
Reflection Question: How do you feel about trauma? What three words come to mind...
In the comments below, share your thoughts on this blog post then follow me on Instagram @brinabmotivates. If you will like to contact me directly you can email me by clicking the link at the top of the page.
Until next time ~Brina B
Disclaimer: This blog post doesn’t serve as therapy or professional help. If you’re in need of professional help, visit the resources section of the website.
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