Breaking the Shame of Trauma
Trauma is a shame-filled experience. There’s the shame you receive during the trauma, the shame of hiding your trauma, the shame of not knowing what to do with your trauma, the shame of talking about it. Then there's the shame of having to heal from something that was done to you, and the shame of learning later in life what others learn as children and adolescents. If you went through narcissistic abuse, you might also have the shame of learning how to navigate relationships and constantly wondering how people who aren’t narcissistic sociopaths perceive your comments, behaviors, thought patterns, etc.
With C-PTSD, the shame is every bit as complex as the trauma. I find myself increasingly aware of how shame and embarrassment shape my relationship to my trauma and my interpersonal relationships. I am ashamed of my abusers and carry the shame of what they’ve done to the point that I don’t even want to show my face in my old neighborhoods and communities. Shame is also the root of my isolation and why I tend to avoid making new, lasting, or deep connections. Sure, there will always be the part of me that doesn’t want to go through pain or trauma again. And yes, I still fight my brain stem to be able to have any type of interpersonal interaction. Yet I find what holds me back from connection is shame.
Usually, it plays out like this. I picture the life I want, or I feel a need for connection. For the sake of illustration, I will use the example of when I picture the family I always wanted to have one day: a loving partner and children. Some days, I am fine and start daydreaming about that life. Other times, I can feel the emotional whirlpool of confabulations starting, and I spiral out of control. I panic, have emotional flashbacks, and can even act out. So, what truly lies at the heart of this storm?
One of my tendencies with C-PTSD is to blame the nervous system. This works to a certain extent, but it is where it is easy to get stuck. Learning how the brain and nervous system respond to trauma can help us in the moment by helping us learn how to calm down. It does not help us deal with or process the trigger, or at least it has not helped me very much.
Going back to the previous example, what was my trigger? I think it goes deeper than self-esteem or fear of rejection. It is shame operating on multiple levels. I feel the shame of suffering narcissistic abuse to the point where I don’t know how to handle normal relationships and find myself having to learn about connection and communication later in life than my peers. I feel the shame of not having two fully functioning parents or family members who also don’t struggle with trauma. This means that there won’t be meet-the-family visits, time spent with aunts, uncles, or cousins, or even visits to the grandparents’ for the holidays. I feel the shame of not being able to provide the life for a potential partner and children that I want to provide for them. I feel ashamed of not being able to show up in a relationship the way I want to or the way a future partner deserves. I feel ashamed of bearing a shame that doesn’t belong to me but was forced on me. I feel the shame of bearing the shame that my abusers should be feeling.
So, once we get to identify the shame we are struggling with, how do we grow and heal?
Honestly, I am still working through figuring that out, and I think it’s ok if it’s a lifelong process. Three decades’ worth of trauma does not heal overnight. But some things have helped me along the way.
- I ask myself why I feel ashamed. Is this something I did that I should feel ashamed of, or am I taking on the shame of my abuser? If it is something I did wrong, then I reflect on my actions and what I could have done better. Most of the time, the case is the latter, and I find myself taking on my abuser’s shame. It helps to visualize a force field around me (mine looks like Glinda’s bubble mixed with Sue Storm’s force field). I picture the shame that belongs to my abuser outside of this force field. The shame doesn’t belong to me. It can’t hurt me.
- Being empathetic with myself. This means talking to myself with compassion, allowing myself to take breaks, and accepting that I am a person dealing with an immense amount of trauma.
- Reaching out to talk to someone. I know, for hyper-independent people like me, we would rather suffer alone than ask for help. Learning how to reach out has not been easy, but it has been comforting. The hardest part has been learning who I can call (and putting aside my not-wanting-to-be-a-burden mentality). With practice, I have been able to find friends that I can talk to without judgment and with no questions asked.
Feel free to share your favorite ways to show yourself empathy and self-compassion in the comments.
