In my last post, we talked about three practical tools for facing medical trauma, but today I want to focus on three truths to hold onto for those who are facing medical trauma or PTSD. This topic is one that has taken me years to finally speak about publicly, but I want you to know that you aren’t alone, friend.
1. Your trauma is valid.
Your trauma is valid . . . Even if someone else experienced something different.
I used to think that PTSD or a trauma response was only connected to things like sexual assualt or war. Those things are horrifying, and if you’re reading this and have experienced those traumas I am so, so sorry.
But over time, I began to realize that trauma is experienced in a variety of ways, and just because someone else might have “had it worse” that doesn’t mean your experience of trauma is not valid or real. God did not design us to face abuse or long-term illness or near death experiences.
He designed us for a perfect world, and we live in a fallen world. Our bodies and brains were not supposed to have to face the stressors and suffering of traumatic situations.
So please don’t compare yourself. It simply isn’t fair.
Your trauma is valid . . . Even if you don’t understand your trauma or responses to it.
I think one of the hardest parts of long-term health challenges is the invisibility of them. When chronic illness is your day to day, it is so easy to accept it as the norm and sometimes forget that this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. Other times, it’s blatantly obvious this isn’t how it is supposed to be.
But when we become used to it, we forget how much we’re facing. God has made humans wonderfully resilient and adaptable, but that doesn’t mean that what we’re going through isn’t serious.
If you don’t understand how your experience is traumatic, but you’re having trauma responses, the answer is not to beat yourself up but to approach it with curiosity, gentleness, and wisdom. If your responses or triggers don’t seem to make sense, don’t immediately discount them, bring them into the right setting. Bring them to God and a mental health professional.
Just because something doesn’t make sense doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
2. You don’t have to swallow the ocean.
One day, I was bracing myself to face some of the traumatic things in my past, and I really didn’t want to. I sobbed as a friend handed me tissues, and she turned on a song. “One Day” by Christia Wells, and part of it goes:
It’s hard to sing when you’re crying
Hard to leave when you’re tied down
It’s hard to sleep when you’re fighting
For your life like you are right now
There’s only so much more you can stomach
Though it’s more than you thought
You only keep moving
By the grace of God
You’re doing one day, one breath, one prayer
One thing at a time
One word, one step, one hope
In a coming light
Don’t try to swallow the ocean
Keep doing one day
‘Til one day you’re free
I find that song so beautiful and encouraging. Trauma is complex. So often it is multilayered and that makes it confusing to wade through. It means that it takes time and that it can only be worked through in layers.
Friend, you don’t have to swallow the ocean. This isn’t something you have to figure out overnight, but something you can take one day at a time. One issue. One moment, if needed. God walks with you in all of it.
3. God enters in with you.
God understands what you are going through in a way that no one else can. He understands the trauma that doesn’t make sense. The things you don’t remember, the weight of trying to cope with it all at the same time.
And He not only understands, but He enters in with us. He is near to the brokenhearted. (Psalm 34:18). He gets to be the one place of safety when you’re struggling with trauma, fight or flight, and fear. We can shelter in His wings.
Bring your pain, your brokenness, your scars to Him. He is gentle and lowly. He is trustworthy. He does not shrink away and He is not overwhelmed by us or our struggles.
Warrior, my heart hurts for you. I’m so sorry for what you have had to go through. It is not the way God designed the world to be. I want to sit with you and weep with you and hand you tissues (fair warning, mine probably unintentionally smell like essential oils) and celebrate growth with you.
This healing journey is long, but God is so far from done with you.
I’d also be remiss if I didn’t share with you the session I taught on navigating medical PTSD with grace. It’s possibly one of the hardest talks I’ve ever given, but I think it might encourage you.
You can find it with the other sessions from that event here.
One day at a time. I see you laughing on the other side, I really do.
