“Trauma makes you afraid of being inside your own body”- Co-Star
Writing this has been difficult. I could not think of a title or pick a photo, how to start it or in what voice to speak, even where it was going or how it would affect me. Maybe because it is truly challenging to be honest and transparent. It requires significant effort to stop your automatic reaction of putting up a front and appearing as your “best self”. But this is not about my best self or yours for that matter. I am not going to tell you how to fix your life or the exact steps to have a better one. This is my process, and you have to discover yours. All I can hope is that you will find some sort of solace.
Stuck between dreaming the future and holding on to the remnants of youth, I am re-learning the word trauma. Trauma has become the new buzzword and self-care is the trend. As a child, I learned the word trauma as some sort of physical impact, like a concussion or a broken arm. I have come to realize the actual scope of the word trauma and that it includes emotional and mental shocks.
Before this pandemic, my life seemingly carried on as planned. I had a nice job, started living on my own, and even adopted a dog. I was on the path for the kind of success my younger self had always wished for me. The future felt bright and I was only a few steps away from being “fulfilled”. My relationships with family and friends were going and my life found itself in a nice little bubble of perfection. I was confident, happy, and completely sure of my ability to achieve anything I put my mind to; totally unaware of the inner trauma, the shock, that was about surface.
Chaos is a place of comfort for me. Throughout my life, I learned to adapt and thrive in constant fight-or-flight mode. Dealing with an unstable world or the emotional rollercoaster that can be family, your mind and body learn to use chaos and disorder as fuel. And it goes on…and on…and on. After so long, it seems like a good idea until you realize that the chaos, just like it serves as fuel, triggers trauma that is patiently waiting to terrorize you once conditions are ideal.
This pandemic has been a breeding ground for my trauma. Faced with my own solitude and prohibition of human interaction — human connection — unable to distract myself or please my ego in any way possible. My trauma, the one I was sure had been taken care of, resurfaced. I thought I knew who I was and where I was going but my seemingly perfect bubble was now full of restless emotions, disillusionment at the world, and extreme paranoia. This is not me trying to feel bad about myself or scrutinize my simple & human reactions, but more so to serve as an analysis of the forces we all have within, whether for personal benefit or personal destruction.
To me, this entire pandemic started out as a suggestion. A suggestion that something bad was happening but not in my world, not in my direct field of vision — rather out there, in the middle of nowhere. And just as I chuckled at the idea of wearing masks in some post-apocalyptic society, COVID arrived, took center stage, and laughed in our faces. My only source of life, to a certain extent, became social media, particularly Instagram. I began to feel the world revolve around me; to feel the world staring at me. Instagram is an invention that is ideal in making you feel like the star of your own movie. You have total control over what people see, what they know about you, what personality traits you seem to have, the response you evoke from “followers”, your support or lack thereof for pressing social issues; you are the celebrity and your own PR rep. Unlike real life. Real life where you have absolutely no control over whether people like you or if someone happens to catch you on a bad day. And what does this obsession with control do to a seemingly normal adult? It incites inner turmoil.
Life began to fall apart all around. I discovered real, ugly parts of myself, buried deep where I could ignore them long enough. My insecurities became my only guests. I felt the obsession with being busy and seeming okay, in making sure everyone knew I was still “thriving”. Compassion for myself dwindled and my inner critic became the only voice I cared for. Craving control in a time where control of anything is a commodity. I began to regress into a past, more fearful version of myself. It’s crazy the kind of patterns, cycles, and habits you will come crawling back to when things get difficult or you are being challenged.
We have memorized the symptoms at this point, the physical effects of the virus, the medical advice, the number of COVID cases, hotspots. The news is full of the economic effects, the closing of businesses, the lack of funds, the filling of millionaire’s pockets. But what about the emotional effects? I am still trying to figure that out.
