Developmental Trauma Series: 3 – Why Insight Alone Does Not Heal Developmental Trauma
There I was standing in the hallway of the emergency room after my mother’s latest suicide attempt. This time, she had taken a knife up and down her arms, and for good measure, jumped into my father’s rural fishing pond behind the house. The neighbors found her. Now,...
Continued: Trauma and its Effect on the Brain: Beyond Fight, Flight and Freeze States…
My name’s Lizzy, and I’m a trauma survivor. I write to spread awareness of what it feels like to live after traumatic events and abuse. I know because I’m living this life. A life after enduring more than a human being should be able to survive. The five F’s of Trauma...
Looking Back: Mother’s Day Hurts
This post looks back at the recent US Holiday, “Mothers Day”, and the challenges it creates for survivors of trauma with a mother wound. How are you feeling today? Do you have a complex relationship with today being Mother’s Day? I know I do, and I thought...
When Over-Explaining Is a Trauma Response
Some people cannot answer a simple question with a simple answer. They deliver the fact, then the context, then the reason, then the exception, and, finally, the disclaimer meant to head off any possible misinterpretation or misunderstanding. They hear the extra...
Body Memory: How Trauma Rewires You—And How to Reclaim Your Physical Wellbeing
Do you smell different after trauma? We’ll discuss the physiological changes one might experience, healing approaches, practitioners to find, tests to request, and scripts for medical conversations. “Why does my body still feel ‘broken’ years...
Why “I Can’t Talk About It”, is Rich Information
When a person dealing with trauma says to their therapist, “I can’t talk about it,” this is not a dead end. It’s not blocking therapy. Far from it. It is the beginning of the work; it shows exactly where it needs to start. “I can’t talk about it” is not resistance. It...
Feelings Aren’t Insects
Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any worse, my mom’s accusatory words cut into my soul like shrapnel. Her words embedded themselves in my heart and mind: “You don’t know how to be happy.” Sometimes she delivered the extended version, her lip curled in...
Ruins as Echoes
Why I went looking for broken places, and what they gave back For most of my twenties and thirties, I lived a contradiction I tried to hide from everyone. On the outside, I seemed to have my life together–running a photography studio, exhibiting my work, and...