Awakening to Trauma

The last seven days have been quite a year. In many ways they embodied the relentless stress, anxiety, division, and angst that have plagued our nation for years, slowly eroding the mental health of millions of Americans. The fear mongering, demonization of political opponents, lies, and psychological pain have revealed our nation’s ugliest and most dangerous impulses. Like the cruel underground blood sport that is dogfighting, we’ve been whipped into a frenzy and thrown into a pit to tear one another apart.

Making matters worse, we’ve lied to ourselves, believing all this pathological behavior is normal, even necessary. But it’s not. Nothing about the last four years have been normal.

Hatred is not normal. Misogyny is not normal. Racism is not normal. Ignoring science is not normal. The daily barrage of insults and ugliness is not normal. A collapse in common sense is not normal. To be told that what you heard you did not hear, and that what you saw you did not see, is not normal. To question it all is to break “the most basic commandment of our culture: Thou shalt pretend there is nothing wrong,” writes activist Derrick Jensen. But something is tragically wrong. It is as if, after years of abuse, we are all finally waking up to our own trauma. 

Exhaustion, emptiness, fatigue, sadness, agitation, and confusion are all normal responses to trauma. And if these issues are not resolved, you can suffer long-lasting effects. So if, like us, you are feeling some or all of these emotions, be kind to yourself. It may take quite awhile before you feel safe again. Create the space and time needed to heal. Eat well, get a good night’s sleep, exercise, turn off the news, mute the crazies on social media, meditate, or simply go outside. Healing from trauma is painful, necessary, and at times beautiful. It is learning to live in the tension between a troubling past and a hope-filled future.

May you find encouragement, rest, and a fresh start in the following words by one of our favorite poets, Mary Oliver.

“The Journey” by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.” 

NOTE: This was originally published in our bi-weekly e-newsletter, Liminal Spaces. To get future issues delivered to your inbox, sign up here.

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