I could spend an entire year’s worth of columns trying to share the volume of information floating in cyberspace (and piled on brick-and-mortar bookshelves) about trauma.
Sticking with my chosen metaphor, it’s like that giant snow bank at the end of your driveway as December draws to a close, and before any January thaw comes to the rescue.
No need to panic or hastily turn the page, though; I have no intention of climbing that mountain.
A clinical treatise on trauma wouldn’t make much sense for what is supposed to be a spiritual column.
Moreover, I could hardly be considered an expert on the subject; it is easily self-researched should the Spirit move you to do so.
A little stepping stone of its basics might be useful, however, before taking a broader look at how it can be part of our physical, emotional, and spiritual selves.
Most of what I offer here comes from the lone book on trauma that I have read in full, and which I would recommend to anyone interested: The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel Van der Kolk, MD.
It’s a widely read, comprehensive work, with fans and critics alike.
Even though fairly clinical, it is not beyond the non-medical person if you take your time. I found it quite compelling, and I learned many things that surprised me.
Mea culpa to any professionals out there if my aging brain suffers any slip along this memory lane; I last read it in 2021, and my personal copy is out on loan.
I suppose it’s telling in and of itself that, as I think back, these are the points that most resonated with me.
Trauma comes in many forms — everything from neglect, abuse, and combat, to enduring a tornado, car accident, or (ahem) stomach pumping thanks to an aspirin overdose.
It makes physiological changes in the brain (proven by CT and MRI imaging), and the scope of its fallout is surprisingly vast.
I expected that many addictions have their genesis in some type of trauma, but was taken aback to read that it can even cause things like loss/degradation of physical coordination.
Trauma is typically stored as bits and pieces of the event versus a cohesive story; these might be sensory fragments, narratives, or emotional associations.
When successfully prompted, the brain releases it in much the same way — as bits and pieces over a period of days.
I think this is self-protection at its finest, as a rapid-fire dump of toxic emotion would itself be pretty traumatizing; our beloved Creator always has us in His care.
It’s primarily stored in three areas of the brain (amygdala, hippocampus, and prefrontal cortex), with some research showing involvement of the posterior cingulate cortex and hypothalamus.
I admit it’s unlikely your life will ever depend on having this aforementioned fun fact at the ready, but I just thought I’d be “The Man in the Yellow Hat” to any Curious Georges out there. Think of how smart (or maybe the operative word is boring?) you will sound at your next summer barbecue.
One last nugget: What traumatizes one person will not necessarily traumatize another.
The response is highly individual, and judging others through one’s own lens is both unproductive and devoid of spiritual charity.
My title here notwithstanding, clearly trauma is not soap-opera melodrama; far from it.
I’m NOT suggesting that it is the sole source of every weakness, sin, ailment, or struggle in your life, but I am offering that it could be a big factor without you even knowing it.
You may be aware of something you experienced that you consider traumatic, but you are unaware of the fallout from it that has caused you the most difficulty.
There is a reason we suppress what we suppress, I imagine.
Take my stomach pumping episode, for example. I was dumbfounded to discover that my deepest wounds from that event involved my father!
To anyone who read my December 2024 column, hopefully, it was apparent that I adored him; we were very close.
Never could I have imagined any part of me (certainly not a conscious one) was harboring any disappointment or sense of betrayal where he was concerned.
And I still cannot quite figure out how those unknown feelings regarding my own father somehow morphed into doubt about our Eternal Father.
As I said last month, Satan is always ready to pounce, always ready to strike us where we are most vulnerable or the most unforgiving.
How does that unforgiveness factor in when it’s not even on your conscious radar that you’re harboring it?!
Was it more of a cross I was given versus Satan’s pounce?
I may never discover that until the day I’m on the other side of the veil, or I may discover it in the course of sharing this story. Who knows? As a dear friend of mine so beautifully wrote to me last month: “How insidious is the enemy; but how gracious and steadfast is the Father who has brought you to this place, perhaps to spark a healing journey in others.”
I hope so.
I sought out psychological help as a potential answer to physical and emotional struggles. In the course of that work, I discovered spiritual epiphanies that had long eluded me.
No surprise, then, that when I added spiritual work to the mix, I made even greater strides toward healing — and they have been primarily spiritual/emotional strides to date.
Don’t underestimate this, for said strides have made the physical far easier to bear; I lugged it around in darkness for a long time. I much prefer it this way.
Is a physical healing around the corner? Maybe.
I’ve just been introduced to a new approach to my body’s struggles, and I’m just beginning to pursue it.
I guess you’ll have to circle back here next month to find out.
Maria Burns is a lifelong Catholic and writer who lives in Madison and is a member of Divine Mercy Parish in Madison.