When Emma was a kid, she lived in fear. She grew up in a household where anger equaled danger, where her mother hit her father, hit her, and her younger brother, Mike. Everyone lived in fear of being singled out. Singled out meant that their mother would say nasty things and blame that person entirely for everything. It was far worse than being hit.
Mostly, Emma tried to protect Mike from their mother. On rare occasions, (and she felt very guilty for this), she would tell on Mike. Then, a torrent of anger would ensue toward Mike, but she could be assured that their mother wouldn't be coming for her next. Everyone had their secret hiding places while their mother raged, throwing things, screaming. It was bedlam when she found them. There was a lot of waiting.
And, the waiting, the silence of waiting for her mother to blow or find her became associated with the fear. She never knew what might set her mother off, because often it had nothing to do with anything she or Mike, or their passive father did. Sometimes, he left Emma and Mike alone in the house with their mother until she calmed down. This was often worse than being attacked. To be left. It was as though their father felt that they could handle what he could not.
As an adult, Emma has a fear of saying anything that will induce anger. She cowers when her manager speaks slightly agitated; she always tries to say the right things -- the things least likely to cause conflict -- with friends, and, though she has a good relationship with her partner, he really doesn't begin to know how much she keeps to herself: all her hidden worries, her fears of doing the wrong thing, and the usual irritations couples have with each other, like her dislike of the fact that he is messy and doesn't always ask her questions about her day.
She feels unable to be fully real with him, and then beats herself up for not being open. Sometimes, she feels really lonely. She's exhausted, trying to make everyone, but herself, happy. Her partner, Eric, suggested she go talk to someone. Even though he's gentle with her, he gets mad sometimes, (understandably), and it's hard to know how to talk to Emma about it without her responding either defensively or trying to make everything right. But, that's impossible to do if she's still hiding.
Therapy, has been about finding ways to calm down and reassure her inner kid so she can hear conflict without losing it or fearing that she'll lose the relationship, and about being able to speak honestly about her feelings. It's hard. But, it's good. This takes work, willingness to see, with compassion, the part of her that's still so scared (as she as a kid), and the part of her that felt she had to grow up fast -- without a choice. That's the essence of trauma.
A lot of the work is about finding the ways she does have choice. Trauma often involves feeling that you are left without choice and that the past feelings feel like they are happening in the present.
This is especially scary if you feel all alone.
Trauma alone is much worse than trauma experienced in community.
Beyond that, there are many strengths that can emerge out of trauma. This does not make trauma okay! No. But, traits like empathy, the capacity to see from others' perspectives and to care about them, feeling protective of people you love, knowing how to calm others, especially in times of stress, being a peacemaker, having a lot of inner strength, insight, and being wise beyond one's years are all traits that can come out of childhood trauma.
Struggling with being fully authentic is common, and trusting that others want to hear what you feel and need is something that has to be developed over time (like a muscle) because the reverse is true in dysfunctional households. It may not have been safe to express feelings or needs.
Learning to talk about feelings, befriending emotions like anger, and stay in connection while expressing feelings are part of the work in therapy.
I always start with people by assessing their strengths. Focusing on what helps people feel calm, connected, and empowered is a huge part of the work when s/he has felt disempowered. Learning who to trust and who you can't trust is essential: so, not staying closed off with everyone or fully open is part of the work because it is common to go to extremes (trusting everyone or trusting no one), and sometimes, these extremes are in the same person.
Trust is gradual and it's common to have it increase and decrease, even with people who are trustworthy.
From all the people from dysfunctional households whom I've worked with, I've learned again and again about what it means to persevere: to continue to be open, to love, to trust chosen family and trustworthy people despite bad childhoods, difficult parents, and entrenched dynamics.
It's all the process. It's all the path.
Note: Emma is fictional. The details of Emma's life are made up, but the storyline is common, and the path of how to get better is real.
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Heather Schwartz is a relational and mindfulness-oriented psychologist who delights in helping kind and expressive people recover from dysfunctional families and find peace, joy, connection, and empowerment.
Keywords: dysfunctional family, abuse, trauma, recovery, healing, childhood, empowerment, love, relationships, trust, authenticity.
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