The alluring trap of 'my trauma is bigger (or smaller) than yours'

"Do your work with your whole heart, and you will succeed." (Elbert Hubbard)

There are 10 categories of Adverse Childhood Experiences that we know are likely to cause developmental trauma and a hodgepodge of physical and mental health problems as well as social and economic underachievement later in life.

My ACEs score is 8.

Is there a hierarchy of anguish, and are there any winners in the pain competition?

Yet the first thing that came to mind when I was first diagnosed with Complex Post Traumatic Syndrome was:

Surely ‘trauma’ is a bit of a hyperbole in my case?

I wasn’t convinced my affliction qualified for such a striking term. Surely others had it harder than me?! I hadn’t been to war or in a terrible accident, I hadn’t sustained horrific injuries or….

Oh, wait. I did have a lot of ugly, swelling scars. Except they were inside, where no one could see them except this unexpectedly dutiful doctor sitting across from me, patiently circumventing my attempts to disengage from a deeper conversation. My bones were intact but my spirit was shattered and by that point I had almost stopped believing it could ever be any different. I was pretty done with chatting and I just wanted some meds to make the rest of my life as painless as modern medicine could provide.

It’s human nature to compare ourselves to others. And instead of using this instinct wisely we’ve taken it, perfected it, professionalised it and embedded it into the fabric of our lives.

Are we more or less than? There’s usually only one good answer to that question.

Kids do it. ‘I can climb higher than you’.

Grown-ups do it. ‘My baby is more difficult than yours’. ‘I’m vacationing in Maldives this year’. ‘Have you noticed my car? It came with a 6-figure price tag’.

We get measured against others in families, schools and workplaces until it becomes the default lens we see ourselves and the world through.

I’ve been wondering if that comparison happens at times with trauma survivors as well.

“What happened to you?” can be a great starter for an exploration of the things that have shaped who we are, but it says little of impact magnitude.

Context matters.

How old were you?

What else was going on in your life at that time?

Did anyone recognise your pain and provided relief?

Have you ever been able to seek help, and find someone able to support you effectively?

Was justice ever administered?

Did your perpetrator(s) ever make amends?

Trauma emerges not only from an overwhelmingly painful experience, but also from the wider setting and what happens after. The upside: there are things that can be done to help young people who have gone through potentially traumatic experiences bounce back and develop resilience.

Knowing what happened to me or you is not the whole story. There is no yardstick for being raped, or beaten, or watching a parent descend into madness, or seeing the people you love most hurting each other or themselves.

Love is love and pain is pain, which is why the trauma trophy hasn’t been awarded yet. We are all equal on this long and difficult path to recovery.

Take care and, as usual, thanks for tuning in.

Adina