Mental Health Awareness Month – Let’s Talk

Some wounds don’t bleed—they echo through the body like aftershocks. They flare in a scent, a sudden silence, the pitch of a voice, or the absence of someone who never says goodbye. Trauma isn’t just what happened—it’s what happens inside you long after the event has ended. It’s your nervous system stuck in survival mode, your body reliving danger while your mind pleads for peace. It hijacks breath, blurs memory, and distorts safety. Sometimes, the people around you reawaken it. They trigger it without even knowing, without meaning harm, without consent. And they have no idea they’re pressing on a bruised button they cannot see. In this piece, I explore the hidden architecture of trauma—why it shows up uninvited, how it rewires connection, and what it takes to meet these echoes with awareness, care, and compassion—for ourselves and each other.

Content Note: This series addresses topics of a sensitive and emotional nature, including trauma, narcissism, depression, and toxic behavior. While I am not a licensed clinical therapist, I speak from lived experience, academic grounding in psychology, and a commitment to becoming a trauma therapist. What I offer here is raw truth—honesty shaped by personal healing, continued study, and the voices of those who have survived and are still surviving. These reflections are not clinical diagnoses, but deeply human interpretations of how emotional wounds impact our choices, our relationships, and our capacity to heal.

More Than a Moment.

My experience with trauma began in early childhood, where I was subjected to physical, emotional, and verbal abuse by a parent who repeatedly devalued my existence and made me feel like I was undeserving of love or support. Though a writer for four decades, I have never openly written about this. It is such a difficult thing to express, in words or in personal conversation, but as a mental health advocate, I recognize that many people are suffering from a similar past. These wounds, though invisible to others, shaped my reality and followed me into adulthood. While I have never lived through a civil war, experienced the Holocaust, or served on the front lines of battle, I can attest to fighting my own wars—ones that are internal, shaped by the constant dehumanization and neglect from a parent who never saw me as fully human. This initial relationship – the one that was supposed to matter – altered my entire reality and journey as a worthy human being.

All relationships—love, friendship, family, and professional—have, over time, triggered my traumas, each one reopening old wounds of a different sort. Trauma is more than a moment; it is an overwhelming experience that alters one’s sense of safety and control, often leaving scars that linger long after the events themselves have passed.

Trauma is complex and can manifest in various forms: acute, chronic, and complex. Acute trauma refers to a single overwhelming event, while chronic trauma results from ongoing or repeated events. Complex trauma arises from prolonged exposure to multiple traumatic experiences, often in relationships where the individual should feel safe, such as family. For me, trauma has lived in my body and nervous system for five decades, manifesting in fight, flight, freeze, and fawn responses. These responses have been my body’s way of trying to survive the repeated emotional abuse.

In When the Body Says No: The Cost of Hidden Stress, groundbreaking trauma expert Dr. Gabor Maté explains how childhood trauma profoundly impacts adulthood, emphasizing that the emotional and physiological effects of early trauma can shape an individual’s mental and physical well-being for life (Maté, 2003). It’s also crucial to understand that trauma is subjective—what is traumatic for one person may not be for another, and that difference matters. Dr. Maté is known for exploring the connection between trauma, addiction, and chronic illness.

The Echoes of Unprocessed Pain.

I didn’t realize I was still carrying childhood trauma until everyday life began to trigger it—through conversations with close relatives, through the racism I faced in corporate America, through the fight to keep my children and me alive, and through surviving the toxic behaviors of not one, but two marriages to narcissistic partners. Trauma doesn’t always announce itself. It hides in the body, in the nervous system, in the places language hasn’t yet touched. It’s in the names you’re called by relatives who want to control you. In the silence of a marriage that feels like punishment. In the devaluation of those you befriend, echoing the way a parent once saw you. It’s the tightness in your shoulders when a partner walks away without thought or explanation.

A trigger can be anything—a word, a scent, a glance, a sound, a memory—that pulls you straight back into the emotional chaos of the past, often without warning. Sometimes it’s external: the slam of a door, the weight of unspoken words, a sudden disapproval, the scent of someone’s cologne, or an ordinary moment that suddenly feels suffocating. Other times it’s internal: a wave of shame after a small mistake, the ache in your chest when someone pulls away—even if they’re just tired. These moments might seem irrational to others, but they’re not overreactions. They’re echoes of old wounds, pain still waiting to be resolved. Being triggered isn’t weakness—it’s the nervous system doing its job: protecting you, alerting you, making sense of danger that once was real. It’s not a flaw. It’s history—alive, unfinished. And the more we speak it aloud, the less it controls us in silence.

Trauma Responses.

The body remembers – everything. Even when the mind urges us to forget.

When you’re triggered, your body doesn’t ask for permission—it only reacts. You might shut down. You might explode. You might go numb or vanish into yourself. That’s not you being dramatic. That’s not you being difficult. That’s your body doing what it had to learn to do to survive. As Bessel van der Kolk, pioneer in understanding how trauma is stored in the body and brain, says in The Body Keeps the Score, trauma lives in the body, and when something reminds it of danger—even if you’re safe now—it sounds the alarm. People love to call these responses flaws, but they’re not. They’re adaptations. And the shame we carry about how we cope only adds another layer to the wound. You don’t need to apologize for surviving. What you need is space, understanding, and self-compassion. That’s where the healing starts.

Building Safety from Within.

Healing didn’t just happen—I had to choose it. Over and over again. I learned to turn my pain into purpose through writing, transcendental meditation, prayer, silence, and by creating space between myself and the people who kept reopening my wounds. I started forgiving myself, not for being broken, but for believing I ever was. Emotional regulation became my anchor. I learned how to breathe when I wanted to scream, how to ground myself when my body felt like it was floating outside of time, how to move the pain through my limbs, and how to let therapy be a mirror instead of a verdict. I found safety in trauma-informed spaces and in community with people who didn’t ask me to shrink or explain.

That’s the real work: helping the nervous system feel safe again. Because without safety, healing can’t take root. Some days, it’s as small as placing your hand on your heart and whispering, I’m still here. I’m not what happened to me. When we understand the complexity of trauma, we stop judging the way people survive. We make room for empathy, for growth, and for healing in a world that too often wants us to keep quiet about our pain.

Collective Care.

Healing also doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It takes collective care—workplaces that stop glorifying burnout, families that stop silencing pain, schools that teach emotional intelligence alongside academics, and communities that hold space instead of holding shame. Being trauma-informed means asking What happened to you? Instead of what’s wrong with you? It means respecting emotional boundaries, practicing consent in conversations, and choosing language that doesn’t wound. It means meeting people with empathy and curiosity instead of judgment. We all have a role in this. Change starts with awareness, with the willingness to see beyond behavior and ask deeper questions. No system is neutral, and no healing is sustainable without support. When we understand trauma, we stop pathologizing pain and start building environments where people feel safe to exist—messy, healing, whole.

Healing doesn’t mean forgetting—it means remembering in a way that doesn’t consume you. It’s recognizing that your reactions weren’t weaknesses, but the body’s way of staying alive when you didn’t feel safe. When those old echoes surface, they’re not trying to drag you backward—they’re asking you to listen with new ears, with the wisdom you’ve gained. This work is sacred. It’s not linear, and it’s rarely seen by others, but it’s no less valid.

So ask yourself: What does safety feel like in my body? What needs to be said that no one ever said to me? What truth have I been carrying alone? The answers might come in fragments, in stillness, or in waves—but asking is a form of self-respect. This is your reminder: you are not your pain. You are what survives. The more gently we meet ourselves, the more we make space—not just for our healing, but for a different kind of future. One where love isn’t earned through silence or perfection, but offered freely, without fear. Let this be an invitation—not to fix what’s broken, but to honor what’s still here, still breathing, still becoming.

Please feel free to share your stories, experiences, questions, or reflections—your voice belongs in this conversation.

Let’s Talk About Trauma.

Books and Podcasts on Mental Health, Trauma, & Healing

When the Body Says No: The Cost of Hidden Stress. Knopf Canada, 2003 by Maté, Gabor. In this work, Maté examines how repressed emotions and ongoing stress contribute to physical illness, revealing the profound connection between mind and body.

The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk. This book explores how trauma impacts the body and mind, offering insights on healing through various therapeutic methods.

Healing Rage: Women Making Inner Peace Possible by Ruth King. A deep dive into the trauma of anger, its roots in historical and cultural wounds, and the ways people—particularly women of color—can heal from it.

Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America by Melissa V. Harris-Perry. A powerful book examining the intersection of race, gender, and mental health in the lives of Black women.

The Queer Art of Failure by Jack Halberstam. A blend of theoretical exploration and personal reflection on the failure and resilience found in queer culture.

Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America’s Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing by Dr. Joy DeGruy. Focuses on the intergenerational trauma carried by descendants of enslaved African Americans and the process of healing.

Podcast: The Trauma Therapist Podcast
Website: thetraumatherapistproject.com
Focused on the unique needs of young trauma survivors and those who work with them. It’s a resource for emerging trauma therapists and for survivors navigating their own journeys.

Podcast: Therapy Chat
Website: therapychatpodcast.com
Discusses trauma, mindfulness, and somatic therapy in-depth. Includes insights from trauma therapists and authors on how to heal from emotional wounds.