Trauma Reactions
WRITTEN BY DR. RENEE BRUSH & LINDA E-F
If you have been on social media at all recently, you may have noticed that people can be very judgmental and downright rude with their comments toward others. When my clients complain about something someone said or did and ask “why did they do that?” I talk to them about trauma reactions.
What Is a Trauma Reaction?
A trauma reaction is essentially any action or comment based on an emotional response to something in their past that was traumatic. In other words, the person was “triggered” by what is happening now to an event in the past where they were hurt. Trauma reactions are often confusing because, from our perspective, the person is overreacting to whatever just happened. But, once we learn what is at the basis of the reaction, then we understand better what is going on.
When a person has a history of chronic and repeated trauma such as with abuse, their trauma reactions can begin to look more like repeated patterns or perhaps even personality traits. Once a friend or family member is aware of these patterns, it is easier to predict how a person will react in certain situations. The problem is that two people in a relationship (like parent/child or spouses) often have opposite trauma reactions to each other, which can lead to further problems if the two people are not working to understand each other.
To elaborate on what trauma reactions from a chronic abuse history might look like, we will each describe our patterns of reactions to show how there are often extreme differences in responses, but there are also some similarities. Then we will discuss some things to keep in mind when you are interacting with someone who has a different set of trauma reactions than you.
Renee’s Pattern of Trauma Reactions
My trauma history includes emotional neglect (e.g., being dismissed and ignored) and abuse (e.g., being manipulated, controlled, guilted/shamed). I learned very young how to give in to whatever others wanted and I tended to keep my emotions to myself. I became a people pleaser. My needs or desires never mattered so I learned to “suck it up” and just give in. However, I was a very sensitive person and so I had these strong emotions that I learned to disconnect from (i.e., I dissociated) in order to get through every day. And, once I disconnected from my emotions, I also disconnected from my surroundings. If I was engaged in something, people would talk to me but I did not hear them unless they worked hard to get my attention. In school, this meant I kept to myself. This became a pattern where I usually had one close friend wherever I lived, and, when I moved away, I would not stay in contact with that person. I didn’t date much. In fact, I only had two boyfriends in high school and only one in college, and I married him after I graduated.
When I was getting divorced from my first husband, I remember him once saying that I was like a “mini-me” to him. From all appearances, I essentially had become more like him, doing only what he liked. In truth, I really was just giving in so I could become the “perfect wife.” I realize he was another person adding to the emotional neglect and abuse I experienced, so that time with him helped to solidify the behavior patterns that started when I was younger. Looking back, I was more like a zombie getting through my life. I did not speak up for myself. I did not share anything that was bothering me and I would tend to agree to whatever someone else was saying. I shared few opinions and, if someone challenged me, I would defer to whatever they were saying, even if I did not agree with it internally - although I was not going to admit that to them or anyone else. I also would NEVER ask for help, even if I needed it. I was certain that would most definitely come back to haunt me or be held over my head in some kind of way.
If someone else wasn’t prodding me, I usually just stayed home, doing nothing. If someone didn’t tell me to do something, I tended to not do it. The exception was with my first husband who was very controlling. I had to keep the house clean or he would end up yelling at me. In my second marriage though, I did very little to help clean, unless my second husband started cleaning. And then I felt I had to clean. When I was on my own, my tendency to be shut down meant that my house was messy and cluttered and not very clean or organized. When I moved somewhere, I did not hang pictures on the walls on my own or really finish unpacking. I did not like having company in the house because I wanted to be alone, but the clutter in my house made it worse. I was embarrassed by how I kept the house, but that did not change anything for me. Actually having someone to the house, like the rare occasion when family came to visit, would keep me up all night trying to get the house to some exceptionally high standard of cleanliness and then I would be exhausted when they arrived. It was just easier to not have people over.
People who knew me because we hung out at the same places or who happened to cross my path in public tended to think I was an “aggressive bitch.” I never felt comfortable talking to people, and when I had to talk to someone, I kept it short, so I am sure I came across as abrupt or rude. There was one time I stuck up for my second husband at his karaoke gig. He had worked at this place for months, so the people knew OF me, though I did not talk to many of them. On this one night, a woman, who ended up being a friend of the bar owner, said some things on the microphone about my husband that were not nice. I had had too much to drink that night, and, for once, I spoke up. But it came out as angry, like an attack - after I had walked up (probably more like “stomped up”) to her and spoke my mind. Later I learned that I was the one who looked bad in the conflict, not this woman.
Part of the difficulty with keeping my house clean or getting tasks done on time was due to undiagnosed ADHD. School was extremely easy for me. I did not have to study for the most part, although big assignments like papers were always completed at the last minute. And I was able to earn A’s while procrastinating and not studying. Because I was a “good girl,” I also did not misbehave in school ever. So I had this significant mental health issue that went unrecognized until my mid-40s. This had such an impact on my life that then later affected how I performed at work. When I worked as a store manager, I was expected to get tasks done such as keeping the store neat and tidy and being able to organize and plan floor moves - all things that were affected by ADHD. Instead of helping me figure out how to work more effectively, my bosses usually yelled at me. Of course, I never told them that I was struggling internally with getting this work done. When I worked in academia, I usually had trouble getting assignments graded. My office tended to be a mess - even to this day even though I am medicated. Now as a psychologist, I have to work hard to set my own deadlines or I struggle with getting reports done.
All of these things I am sharing with you have led to very deep feelings of self-loathing. I have wondered so much of my life, “What is wrong with me?” And I have worked to change it, although I was trying to make changes with tools that I learned as a child, which truly meant I was shaming myself and putting myself down for behaviors learned in childhood. No one is a harsher critic on myself than me. People giving me feedback on things I had done felt more like character assassination than constructive feedback. On the flip side, I was never able to take a compliment, because I was sure they did not know how I “really” was. If they did, I was also sure they would not be complimenting me. This self-loathing also meant that I spent most of my life believing I did not belong anywhere or fit in with people. Little did I know that my self-loathing was skewing how I perceived the people around me. It has taken a lot of therapy for me to be on the other side and to begin unlearning all of these things that have kept me stuck in the past. But at least I now have hope.
Linda’s Pattern of Trauma Reactions
My trauma reactions were almost the polar opposite. Involvement, especially in sports, got me out of the house and gave me the positive reinforcement I craved. I became a super athlete—three sports in the fall and three in the spring. During summers, I ran, swam, and hiked our local hills to stay in shape for the fall season. While having friends was frowned upon in my home, sports gave me instant friends through which I learned “normal” communication and leadership. Leadership received the antithesis of rewards at home. Like many trauma survivors, I learned to keenly watch, not only for danger but for the differences that would make me stand out in public. I learned to mimic “normal” behavior through sports.
To avoid conflict and pain in my early years, I learned the defense mechanism of rapid-fire, over-the-top explanation of actions. This included the reason/s for one’s actions, where the idea for the action came from, how that action was NOT learned from outside non-family members, and most importantly, how those actions were not intended to insult, affront, or shame a parent unit. I talked fast and lied to keep safe. I became an over-talker. To this day, when I get nervous, I get diarrhea of the mouth. I can’t shut up even as my inner voice is yelling “SHUT THE F’ UP, YOU IDIOT!”
School was a harrowing experience for me. I loved being in school and with my classmates; I was very social. Plus, it got me out of the house, but the academics were gut-wrenching—unknown trauma reactions made learning so, so difficult and painful. I had dyslexia and probably ADHD. I remember parent conference nights. There was usually some sort of show-and-tell, and then we would sit down at a table with the teacher. The teacher would always glow about how well I got along with others and how kind, caring, and hard-working I was. Then they would get to the academics, and I could see the discomfort in the teacher’s eyes as she politely said something along the lines of “Linda struggles with pretty much everything except P.E. and art.” Ironically, I never got in trouble for my horrible grades, but my parents wouldn’t say a word to me. They hardly looked at me after we left the conference.
Once I got to high school, I was a full-on jock and got put into the “jock” classes. More appropriately called the “dumb-jock” class. We knew who we were, and I was one of two or three girls in that group. I had one teacher start almost every class with a “soccer-girl joke.” “Class! (staring straight at me – as he always did when he told one of his mean character-assassination jokes.) What is the difference between a girl soccer player and a bag of trash?” He smiled a wry smile, walked straight up to my desk, looked down at me, and said, “Well! Even a bag of trash gets taken out once a week!” He roared with laughter, although, thankfully, none of my fellow athletes did. It was a cruel joke. I did what I learned at home, and I just took it until class was over. That teacher was the most popular teacher on campus, and he had been very kind and caring to my older sister, who needed someone on her side, so I never said a word and endured his ridicule for my entire senior year.
I got into college to play soccer and get away from home – I would figure out the academic part later. I didn’t know that I had dyslexia and had almost finished college before my inability to comprehend what I was reading caught up to me, and I failed school. Although I was so ashamed, in retrospect, it was a relief. The cat was out of the bag. My secret was out, and the moron had been outed so I could stop pretending to be smart. On the bright side, I met the love of my life while working in my college town. He graduated, we married, and we began our life traversing the U.S.
I married into the Navy and cannot help but think it was an unconscious move. We moved a lot, which worked fine with me because I did not have to risk someone finding out who I really was. I jumped into friendships hard and fast, knowing all ties would be cut in the next move before I got close to anyone. At every duty station, I volunteered in the Navy Wives' Club, coached soccer, played soccer, started leagues, and took positions at all levels of the PTA. I took up martial arts, earned my black belt, trained in Israeli hand-to-hand combat, homeschooled my kids, and never stopped moving. As long as I was moving, I felt safe – I had no idea I had been running my whole life.
Your Trauma Reaction is not Mine and That is OK!
Linda and I decided to make this the second post to give you an idea of how opposite people’s trauma reactions can be. I believe my choice to involve her in this blog was divinely inspired, in large part because we are total opposites. Her strengths are my weaknesses and vice versa. As I mentioned earlier, opposites do tend to attract to each other when it comes to partners. And children often have the exact opposite behavioral patterns as their parents. For example, I tend to keep my emotions hidden whereas my daughter tends to wear them on her sleeve, so to speak. And I believe it is important to understand the various types of trauma reactions in order to have healthier relationships with people.
At the beginning of this blog, I mentioned how easy it is for people to be critical or judgmental about someone’s posts or life choices. The internet has made it easy for people to speak their minds without considering what the other person may have experienced. We are not putting ourselves in other people’s shoes - meaning, as a society, we are not having EMPATHY for another person’s experiences. That makes the internet and social media an unsafe place.
Our goal for this blog and my whole website is to be a safe space for everyone who finds it. This is a HEALING place. To heal, you need to be able to be vulnerable. I have been working on posts for nearly a year now and I have been brought to tears reading back over some of my posts that I will be sharing with you in the near future. To be vulnerable and heal, I also need to feel safe. And people who feel called to comment need to feel safe. For that reason, I am implementing a set of rules to guide the process for comments.
The rules are:
Be kind in your comments. If you are about to make a comment you would not want spoken to you, then please reframe the comment.
Remember that everyone’s experiences are different and so you may not completely understand a person’s perspective. It is ok to be curious; it is not ok to judge or be critical.
It is not ok to give unsolicited advice. But it is ok to share what works for you. (There will be a future post on this for clarity.)
My general rule of thumb is to believe what a person says. Again, if you don’t know what a person has lived through, you won’t be able to understand where they are coming from. It is not ok to be dismissive or to invalidate what a person is feeling or saying.
Any comment that does not adhere to these rules will be deleted and the person will be at risk of losing the privilege to comment.
Everyone who signs up to comment will be required to accept these rules of engagement.
