Bonded To Trauma and the Hidden Weight We Carry
- Apr 10
- 4 min read
Updated: Apr 15
Written by Justin H. Briggs, Writer
Justin H. Briggs is the author of "Insanity Comes To Mind: A Memoir on Mental Health," which was published on May 1st, 2020. He is a good writer working at being great.
Nothing defines my life as a disabled person more than the trauma of living. That is called a paradox. Physical, mental, and emotional traumas fill my person day and night. In the daytime, every other thought bears weight in recollection. Nostalgia is a really effective marketing technique on me, you know what I mean?
At night, I tend to sweat as much as I sleep. The common interactions of daily living, such as running an errand or paying bills, are uncommonly difficult emotionally for me, with or without sufficient funds. If I dream, the dreams tend to be nightmares or night terrors or things much, much worse than strange.
We are not born alone, nor do we die alone. A common psychological concept which is gaining much traction in the field is that we are born with generational traumas of our parents, grandparents, and on back down the generational line. The alcoholism of my paternal grandfather is not “your fault” even if it still is “your responsibility”. Another paradox.
When you make it to your deathbed, should you be fortunate enough to afford one, the traumas of your life will be surrounding you as much, or more so, that your family or loved ones. The common parlance “IF you are gonna be dumb, then you gotta be tough.”, the implication being dumb people get hurt, or perhaps that people are not supposed to be dumb, or tough. It sounds as stupid as me so I say it all the time, just usually to myself.
Everyone gets hurt. Dumb people get hurt, smart people get hurt, every color variation of humanity struggles individually against odds of even existing, so improbable that we should really stop asking “where does it hurt?” and start asking “why does it hurt?” So, whether you consider yourself dumb, smart, or disinterested, you have your own traumas, whether you are self-aware enough to acknowledge them or not.
I have the scars of physical trauma all over and within my body. If I am dumb with my mental health, however, and breakdown then the mental and emotional traumas often determine my thoughts, actions, wordage, and inflection like everybody else, diagnoses or none.
When I am really excited or shy about something and adolescent stutter speaks up. The nostalgia one feels from a song or movie often tends to make me feel like I am in an envelope I need to break out of and burn. There is little joy in Traumaville, ever.
But we carry on, soldier on, boot-strap-on, dragging our profoundly fragile yet existentially imperative psyche and push through, right? Wrong. Unaddressed trauma will haunt your every step, wherever you walk next. The world being the perpetually degrading chaotic battleground for the fight for your life, trauma will have you paranoid, anxious, and proceeding in every thought, word, or deed from a place of fear. This perpetuates trauma beyond your own Self and into your environment and other human beings.
How do you handle trauma or, rather, how do we cope? Most of us distract ourselves from the pains of trauma with escapism. We escape to our phones, laptops, or vice(s). We lose ourselves in work or relationships. We also pick up new vices which our trauma-driven egos turn into addictions or habits. Even if medicated for pain, physically or emotionally, we carry the weight of trauma and often develop new traumas as a result of poor coping skills. Can you imagine a more vicious cycle to ride than the nature of trauma?
One of the greatest gaslighting lines follows my “paranoid” ramblings often, often from loved ones or even paid professionals, and it follows “Why do you think you are so important?” This question tends to be a defense mechanism from a place of the other person’s own fears or suspicions about their own lives, from what I can see.
Well, you see, you are getting paid to listen to me talk, I tend to reply, so that should be important enough for your attention at least. I can validate myself just fine, thank you. If your financial position is so secure that you can afford to rationalize your suspicions away, then go buy yourself something nice. And if you are not getting paid to read this, then please believe me when I type these words, you are important. You matter. Fuck anyone who tells you otherwise. You gotta protect your peace, sure. But you must respect yourself regardless of peace. Good luck!
Read more from Justin H. Briggs
Justin H. Briggs, Writer
Justin H. Briggs is a writer located in Manhattan, Kansas, USA. He is more than his diagnosis and less than his potential for success, in his opinion, but he is working on that. His diagnosis of schizoaffective bipolar disorder manifests symptoms of depression, mania, delusions, paranoia, and hallucinations. He is in no way medically certified beyond the occasional CPR certification, but he has been there and done that, so to speak.
