Thanks for this, Adina. I had a similar diagnosis as you and shrugged it off. It was years before I understood what my counselor was saying, and really took it to heart.
Thank you for reading and sharing your experience, Jan.
Accepting our diagnosis is such a big and bitter pill to swallow. It hurts even more before it starts to make things better. It forces us to let go of lots of things that, for better or worse, have kept us alive and got us as far as in a therapy room, and re-start from scratch.
But better late than never. We're here now, living a better life. Ordinary extraordinary <3
I think it’s important to recognize that trauma can feel overwhelming, and it's easy to fall into the trap of comparing our experiences with others. Much like the saying, “My pain is bigger than your pain,” this kind of comparison can create distance rather than foster connection. At the heart of it, we are all human. We all face challenges and limitations; life isn’t a competition. It can sometimes feel like we’re racing through existence to avoid life's more profound, often daunting questions. We didn’t come here just to be the “best” at surviving trauma, and I don’t believe anyone is waiting to hand out trophies for it, saying, “You’ve been the best trauma survivor!”
When we manage to step back from our egos, it opens up space for compassion toward the suffering of others. The ACES study, while significant, can sometimes lead survivors to overidentify with their scores. I understand how easy it is to cling to those numbers, but I’ve learned that my journey is mine to navigate, and I don't want to carry the weight of an ACE score or a survivor label around as an additional burden. Acknowledging the struggle when you’re right in the thick of it is entirely valid. At the same time, I believe in the power of lifting one another through shared experiences.
Gabor Maté's perspective resonated with me when he stated, “There are no survivors.” Initially, I found that statement upsetting, but as I listened further, I began to appreciate his argument. He articulated that many “survivors” can become trapped in that identity, especially on social media, where it’s easy to wear the label like a badge of honor. Yet, that identity doesn't define us entirely in the grand scheme of things. It’s just one chapter of our story, a part of our past. I remember seeing a woman on Twitter with the label “Ace Score 5” prominently displayed. It made me sad to think about how that identification might affect her sense of self.
Sometimes, it’s beneficial to challenge how we see ourselves and our limitations. We are all on a path of constant evolution, growth, and change—that's the beautiful and complex nature of the human experience. When we embrace our journeys together, I feel we create a healthier way of relating to one another. We can stand in recognition that while trauma shapes us, it doesn't have to limit us.
Thanks, Alina, for providing me another opportunity to consider this issue.
I really appreciate your thoughtful engagement with my previous message. I often find that I express myself more clearly when responding to someone else’s words. It’s a bit of a struggle for me when it comes to starting my own articles—I tend to freeze up while staring at a blank page. I know this stems from my childhood and the criticism I faced from my mother. However, I’m gradually experiencing more fluidity in my thinking, even if it can still be quite challenging at times. It's a journey I’m working to overcome, so your feedback truly means a lot to me.
I resonate deeply with your thoughts on ‘specialness’ in our identity, particularly the Judith Herman quote. Letting go of that notion can be so difficult, especially since it’s become a familiar part of my narrative. I find myself disclosing my status as a survivor to others when it isn’t always necessary. I remember my naturopath jokingly saying, “Welcome back to the real world, Anna!”—he recognized that I was starting to navigate this new chapter in my life. It’s a gentle reminder that being a survivor doesn’t set one apart; we’re all just human, and in many ways, we share more common experiences than we often realize.
Thank you, Anna, for such a thoughtful and nuanced answer. It got me thinking about when and how much we identify with our traumas (or other key experiences for that matter) and made me go back to a couple of books!
The point you make about comparison creating (false) distance is so important. I think because trauma is so overwhelming it's almost unavoidable to do it at one point or another, but healing is moving beyond that. As Judith Herman says, the last stage of trauma recovery involves the survivor finally relinquishing the 'specialness' of her identity. Perhaps one of the reasons why group therapy works so well?
Thanks again for always taking my thoughts one step further, and I hope you have a great weekend :).
Thanks for this, Adina. I had a similar diagnosis as you and shrugged it off. It was years before I understood what my counselor was saying, and really took it to heart.
Thank you for reading and sharing your experience, Jan.
Accepting our diagnosis is such a big and bitter pill to swallow. It hurts even more before it starts to make things better. It forces us to let go of lots of things that, for better or worse, have kept us alive and got us as far as in a therapy room, and re-start from scratch.
But better late than never. We're here now, living a better life. Ordinary extraordinary <3
I think it’s important to recognize that trauma can feel overwhelming, and it's easy to fall into the trap of comparing our experiences with others. Much like the saying, “My pain is bigger than your pain,” this kind of comparison can create distance rather than foster connection. At the heart of it, we are all human. We all face challenges and limitations; life isn’t a competition. It can sometimes feel like we’re racing through existence to avoid life's more profound, often daunting questions. We didn’t come here just to be the “best” at surviving trauma, and I don’t believe anyone is waiting to hand out trophies for it, saying, “You’ve been the best trauma survivor!”
When we manage to step back from our egos, it opens up space for compassion toward the suffering of others. The ACES study, while significant, can sometimes lead survivors to overidentify with their scores. I understand how easy it is to cling to those numbers, but I’ve learned that my journey is mine to navigate, and I don't want to carry the weight of an ACE score or a survivor label around as an additional burden. Acknowledging the struggle when you’re right in the thick of it is entirely valid. At the same time, I believe in the power of lifting one another through shared experiences.
Gabor Maté's perspective resonated with me when he stated, “There are no survivors.” Initially, I found that statement upsetting, but as I listened further, I began to appreciate his argument. He articulated that many “survivors” can become trapped in that identity, especially on social media, where it’s easy to wear the label like a badge of honor. Yet, that identity doesn't define us entirely in the grand scheme of things. It’s just one chapter of our story, a part of our past. I remember seeing a woman on Twitter with the label “Ace Score 5” prominently displayed. It made me sad to think about how that identification might affect her sense of self.
Sometimes, it’s beneficial to challenge how we see ourselves and our limitations. We are all on a path of constant evolution, growth, and change—that's the beautiful and complex nature of the human experience. When we embrace our journeys together, I feel we create a healthier way of relating to one another. We can stand in recognition that while trauma shapes us, it doesn't have to limit us.
Thanks, Alina, for providing me another opportunity to consider this issue.
I really appreciate your thoughtful engagement with my previous message. I often find that I express myself more clearly when responding to someone else’s words. It’s a bit of a struggle for me when it comes to starting my own articles—I tend to freeze up while staring at a blank page. I know this stems from my childhood and the criticism I faced from my mother. However, I’m gradually experiencing more fluidity in my thinking, even if it can still be quite challenging at times. It's a journey I’m working to overcome, so your feedback truly means a lot to me.
I resonate deeply with your thoughts on ‘specialness’ in our identity, particularly the Judith Herman quote. Letting go of that notion can be so difficult, especially since it’s become a familiar part of my narrative. I find myself disclosing my status as a survivor to others when it isn’t always necessary. I remember my naturopath jokingly saying, “Welcome back to the real world, Anna!”—he recognized that I was starting to navigate this new chapter in my life. It’s a gentle reminder that being a survivor doesn’t set one apart; we’re all just human, and in many ways, we share more common experiences than we often realize.
I hope you enjoy your weekend as well.
Thank you, Anna, for such a thoughtful and nuanced answer. It got me thinking about when and how much we identify with our traumas (or other key experiences for that matter) and made me go back to a couple of books!
The point you make about comparison creating (false) distance is so important. I think because trauma is so overwhelming it's almost unavoidable to do it at one point or another, but healing is moving beyond that. As Judith Herman says, the last stage of trauma recovery involves the survivor finally relinquishing the 'specialness' of her identity. Perhaps one of the reasons why group therapy works so well?
Thanks again for always taking my thoughts one step further, and I hope you have a great weekend :).
“When God measures a man he puts the tape around the heart, not the head.” -Howard Hendricks
Nice one! One thing's for sure, I love a good quote :)