transforming traumatic experiences
Our triggers are generally not logical, and that’s O.K. Friendship may be the best place to find our triggers and to own their shadowy, unacceptableness, without damaging the love.
I remember meeting with my friend for coffee. We had recently graduated from Uni and I was working a real job for the first time. As we ordered I blurted out “I’ll pay. I’m rich”. I was feeling generous and celebratory and I love to be a bit cheeky too.
She knew my years of poverty, struggle and isolation, and she had been a friend for me through those times, so in that context I presumed a certain robustness in our friendship. One that could handle me being a tad exuberant.
But something in her expression changed and I remember our connection for the rest of that day felt strained.
A few years later our friendship ended. Probably because of many small things left unsaid.
What was left unsaid? They were tiny discomforts we don’t feel we have a right to express. Or feelings we won’t own up to because we can’t understand why they arise, uninvited.
How do I know this little thing I once said was a significant trigger? Well, we met up for what would be our last coffee together and as we ordered she said, “I’ll pay. I’m rich.”
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Another story from my past.
A treasured friend and fellow yogi accompanied me to Van Gogh’s exhibition in Melbourne. On our walk home I was deep and found myself reflecting on the expansiveness of mind that opens in us through yoga. My friend was expressing her amazement at the artist’s unique genius.
I offered the thought that we all have that ability, really. Our love for the artist is based on a recognition that the artist’s brilliance is our own.
I thought I was speaking into a welcoming space. I though our understanding of yoga was as wide open as our vast love for each other.
She exclaimed, “So you think you could paint like that?!”
I don’t remember how I responded. I only remember feeling the narrowness of her question. As an empath I felt my body tighten in response to the changes in her voice, eyes and her body movements.
For her our friendship hit a little bump in that interaction. It was as though what I represented to her suddenly no longer fit in box A and I was transferred to box B without consideration or trail. A few more of these little unresolved pebbles and she suddenly and irrevocably withdrew her friendship.
So what were these little bumps? And how do they damage the love?
We could say they are nothing more than a conversation. Something said and responded to with something unsaid. But a lot was said in ways other than words: through body language, facial expression and the feeling something had been swept under a rug.
When a button is pressed I know it is not JUST a conversation. The brain shifts gear as the body goes into fight and flight mode. We move outside of our nervous system’s “window of tolerance” and there is an inexplicable sparking off of shame, blame, self doubt along with inconceivable sensitivities. These are past traumas that have been left within us. And unprocessed they hijack us and jeopardise new and loving relationships. We can’t admit how we feel because we don’t know how we feel. We can’t ask for what we need, because we feel we don’t deserve it.
In the presence of my friendship the love is vast.
My robustness is unending. My triggers are not your fault.
I wish my friend would have trusted me with her reaction. I would offer acknowledgement and respect. No reaction is wrong. It is what we do with them that matters. I aim to offer open-hearted care and gentleness. I don’t know what happened for her. I just know that I was not given the opportunity to respond.
In a trusting relationship we can show each other our defensiveness, ugliness, rage, irrationality and vulnerability, and be sure that it is all welcome.
Because when the dust settles there is something beautiful ready to reveal itself. A memory in the process of being healed. A hurt in the process of being heard.
~~~
My huge shift…. Closing the kitchen cupboards
A time came when I chose to share exactly what I felt rather than be defensive.
While the above story of me announcing ‘I'll pay, I’m rich” or the one about Van Gogh, are perhaps about things unsaid, this story is about speaking up.
My beautiful boyfriend would ask me to close the cupboard doors after I opened them.
My response was to argue.
Clearly he was right and reasonable.
But a part of me wanted to be seen and heard. I didn’t know what part of me or why. I just knew that I was not prepped nor was I ready to change that behaviour. So I defended and argued.
I said things like…
“I’m in the middle of putting things away”
“I’m going to use it again in a second”
“You close it yourself since it bothers you”
Our relationship and the clear presence of joy was much more valuable to me than the open/closed status of the cupboards, so I quickly took a look at myself.
I decided it was my job to look into what I was defending and why.
So I turned my attention inward and asked myself: Why do I feel hurt?
And from that one precise question everything else came to light in its own good time.
The process for me was: Look for the underlying feeling and name it.*
HURT.
I felt hurt.
O.K well let’s take a second to understand where that hurt comes from: What happened in the past? What stories I have built around it?
In the mud and yuk I at last found the gleaming gem: “He’s going to see I am broken and reject me. I don’t deserve him, I can’t even do basic everyday things right like close a cupboard”.
Having named, processed and integrated this thought along with my personal history, I felt liberated.
I then chose to close the cupboards, which I did again and again and again. Each time was a reclaiming of my life. It was now my act of powerful rebellion against my past and against ignorance and fear.
I was not broken or bad. I was in-deed free.
Learned behaviours can change. And in a supportive context it can feel gooooood.
Robust friendships will have many beat changes and melody shifts which is why I find them so groovy.
Giving each other the right kind of space so our spiky bits look cute.
The final step was to share some of the shadow stories with Jorge (yes, he became my husband). I could trust him to see my hurt and to be interested in the core beliefs behind my behaviour. He was touched by what I shared and something in him softened too.
I now have an army of friends who are willing to dance in the shadows with me. Their willingness to remain instead of run in fear, gives me that chance to be an open field of acceptance when their shadows strike. Now, my own ugliness, wounds, triggers and irrational ways are free to come to light and no one need be unhinged by the experience.
~~~
* Additional note from a book I’m reading today (22/2/22)
Empathy is not connecting to an experience.
Empathy is connecting to the emotions that underpin an experience.
Brené Brown Dare to Lead