“A history of trauma can give you a high tolerance for emotional pain. But just because you can take it doesn’t mean you have to.” ~Dr. Thema
I just returned from a walk with a dear friend—one of my favorite ways to catch up and socialize. This particular friend has endured significant challenges, especially over the past year. She faced the immense loss of her pets and many of her possessions in a devastating house fire.
The ensuing tsunami of grief and pain pushed her through a tumultuous year filled with deep suffering and intense healing efforts. All the while, she juggled supporting her son without a partner, working full time, and navigating the complexities of temporary housing and an insurance claim.
Witnessing her journey was heart-wrenching, but it also highlighted the remarkable strength and resilience of the human spirit. Today, she shared a profound insight: After confronting her greatest fears and being forced to sit with them, she emerged feeling lighter and less burdened by future uncertainties.
I could see how true this was by her soft but resolved demeanor, the ease in her movements, and her willingness to risk joy again by adopting a new dog and reconnecting with friends.
The Trap of Trauma Comparison
Yet, one recurring theme in our conversation stood out to me: She often mentioned that others have survived much worse. This idea, while empathetic, raises an important issue. It seems to suggest that comparing our trauma to that of others can be a way to diminish our own pain and find gratitude for it not being worse.
An effective way to gain perspective? Yes. But a mindset like this can also undermine our right to fully heal and acknowledge the internal impact of our own struggles.
I understand this tendency well. Years ago, I broke down in a dental office after learning that I required surgery. The dentist, trying to offer perspective, compared my situation to those facing life-threatening illnesses. While I appreciated the attempt to provide context, it did little to address my immediate emotional experience.
Looking back, I was certainly holding something energetically that needed attention, but I didn’t have the awareness to look at it. Plus, the dentist’s comment brought forward some shame for reacting in that way, so it was in my interest to move past it as quickly as possible.
The Origin of Leveraging Comparison to Manage Pain
At the time, the inclination to feel guilty for my reactions wasn’t a novel thing for me. I lived with a deep sense that entertaining negative feelings was excessive and undeserved because I was healthy, I was an only child, and I was privileged in many ways.
I grew up at a time when parents often used comparison in their well-intentioned parenting strategy to raise unentitled children. I’ll give you something to cry about… There are starving children in Africa… Don’t be so sensitive… Do you know how good you have it? In my day…
Even in my own parenting, I’ve been guilty of shaming my children for their feelings—a regret I can only reckon with by trying to do better now.
The unfortunate truth is that all humans experience pain, and the depths of what is born of that pain can never be fully apparent from an outsider looking in. The real danger of comparison is that it often leads to the notion that trauma is solely about the external events we face rather than the internal impact they have on us.
The Nature of Trauma: Big T vs. Small T
Ryan Hassan, a trauma expert, provides a helpful metaphor to differentiate between what is often termed “Big T” trauma—such as war, abuse, or profound loss—and “Small T” trauma, which includes smaller prolonged experiences over time, like bullying or emotional neglect.
Imagine someone damaging their knee in a car accident versus someone injuring it over years of repetitive strain. The knee injury might be different in its origin, but the damage and healing process are fundamentally similar. The same applies to trauma. Whether it stems from a single catastrophic event or ongoing micro-events, the internal impact can be equally profound and deserving of attention.
In addition, our ability to metabolize trauma when it happens depends a lot on the support systems and safe relationships we can turn to at the time we experience something terrible. While this is partly circumstantial, the fact that two people who experience an identical trauma can move through it completely differently—one person becoming an addict and the other a motivational speaker, for example—highlights how the external nature of the trauma is not a measure of its impact but rather the capacity an individual has for coping with it at the time.
My friend’s trauma would certainly be classified at Big T, but even knowing that, her tendency is to compare her experience with even Bigger Ts than her own in an attempt to diminish all she has done to come through the experience.
The Unique Journey of Each Individual
It has taken me most of my life to fully grasp that each person’s journey through trauma is uniquely their own. Our paths are shaped by the survival adaptations we’ve developed to protect ourselves in response to various life experiences that have triggered fight, flight, fawn, or freeze responses. Those responses lead to energetic imprints, which are held in our body and must be included in our healing work.
Each painful experience, whether acute or chronic, holds the potential for profound healing, learning, and personal growth.
The Missteps of the Medical Model
Years ago, I was deeply troubled to hear about another friend who was told by her doctor that she should be “over” her father’s passing by now after she randomly started to cry at her checkup when she mentioned losing him the year before. This kind of dismissal, especially from a medical professional, underscores a critical flaw in our conventional approach to trauma.
While radical acceptance of our circumstances is essential, the energetic aspect of trauma—often dismissed as “woo woo” in medical circles—plays a crucial role. This unaddressed energetic component can manifest in various physical and mental symptoms and require a different kind of intervention.
Dr. John Sarno’s concept of the “symptom imperative” describes how symptoms rooted in repressed emotional energy shift and appear in new forms until they are resolved at a deeper level. For instance, resolving one symptom like plantar fasciitis might lead to another issue, such as migraines, if underlying trauma remains unaddressed.
Exploring Comprehensive Healing Approaches
We are fortunate to live in an era with diverse options for trauma processing. Methods such as craniosacral therapy, somatic movement, Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), Emotional Freedom Technique (tapping), and traditional Eastern practices like acupuncture and chakra balancing offer various ways to address trauma. Creative arts therapy and journaling are also valuable tools. Recognizing the need for these approaches is key, as symptoms often persist until we confront their deeper origins.
Giving Ourselves Permission to Heal
My friend’s journey exemplifies the remarkable resilience of the human spirit in the face of profound trauma. But when she mentioned a skin condition that recently came out of nowhere and doctors couldn’t seem to diagnose, it signaled to me that perhaps there may be an aspect of her healing that isn’t getting the attention it’s calling for.
While society’s understanding of trauma is evolving, we still need reminding that healing is not about comparing our pain but about honoring our personal journey, understanding that our experiences are valid, and listening to the wisdom of our body in the symptomatic language it uses to communicate.
As we continue to expand our awareness and options for healing, may we all make the time and space to fully process our pain, cultivate our resilience, and move forward with a renewed understanding of what it means to be a whole human living within a complicated and messy human experience.
