“Yaar, why do women have to discuss so much” said a 35-year-old man about his fiancé to a friend. Wow, if he feels like that about his fiancé, shouldn’t he share this with her, so that she can make a more informed choice about whether she wants to get married to a man who find her to be “too much”? I asked my friend. “But yeah, that would involve knowing your self, which in turn involves emotional labour. Something this man is probably not up for.” I finished my own thought. Shaking my head, yet another woman would go through feeling, “too much” because her partner is emotionally unavailable for her. She reminded me of me.
The first man I dated was an emotionally unavailable person for me. My emotions, trauma, thoughts, passion, and intensity were “too much” for him. “Too much” is the most nuanced expression of his emotions I could get out of him. It remained the central conflict of our relationship throughout our decade of our relationship. Yes, a decade, because nobody taught our generation any relationship skills. We both went through intense suffering, that we can spare people we love, if we arm ourselves with skills and knowledge about how we can love others and ourselves better. And one important compatibility test when we seek partners (or even friends) is, emotional compatibility.
What is Emotional Availability?
Every human being has an emotional spectrum; it’s the entire range and intensity of emotions one feels comfortable feeling People have a sweet spot on this spectrum, the emotionality that feels “home”. It is the depth of emotions that feels comfortable for you to relate with an intimate other. It’s different for different people, for instance, my sweet spot could be too intense or deep for another person and the other person’s sweet spot could feel too superficial or boring for me. Person A becomes emotionally unavailable for Person B while Person B becomes “too much” for person A.
What makes people Emotionally Unavailable to you?
Apart from individual differences in personality traits, other competing interests (work), paucity of time, and history of intense emotional labour (caregiving), unprocessed pain can make people become emotionally unavailable to the other. The denial of the other’s emotions is the denial of one’s own emotions.
I met an incredibly sensitive four-year-old boy. The boy would study the other astutely, before being friends with them. He selected his friends, very carefully. “He doesn’t play with just about everybody. He hasn’t warmed up to his grandfather till date.” His parents informed me ecstatically when they saw him become friendly with me. In a language only he and I could speak, I could figure out great emotional depth in the child. Later in the evening, I informed the father, “I’m scared for this child. The society is extremely cruel to sensitive boys.”
While anybody can be emotionally unavailable, men are raised in society to be “emotionally castrated”. A sensitive man is a “sissy”. Interpersonal aggression is encouraged to replace emotional sensitivity. Emotionally unavailable fathers turn their sons into emotionally unavailable men. These men in heterosexual relationships find the emotions of women to be “too much.” Entire trope of nagging and “too much” wives rest on this. The society fails to see what this does to women.
The women who are with emotionally unavailable men often end up feeling “too much” or “too needy”. The personalization of an individual’s emotional unavailability is harmful because people end up internalizing negative attitudes of the others towards their emotionality. To save the relationship may even try to “tone themselves down”. You know, how you make left handed children, right handed? This is the same process, except more dangerous, because you’re turning against your self. While management of one’s feelings is an important skill, unfeeling is am impossibility. It’s a self-defeatist goal. It’s a recipe for mental health disaster.
One great paradox of this arrangement is, emotionally unavailable men have no problem in outsourcing the emotional labour of their lives to the women of their lives (mothers, sisters, friends, partners). Women may do it out of sheer love or the need to be needed. For instance, elderly men who lose their wives suddenly find themselves with no one to talk to the way they talked to their wives. The loneliness of their inner lives hits them. But it’s often too late.
All these thoughts came rushing back to me when a man asked me a question recently, “when are you not intense?” I smiled, old wine, new bottle and walked away.
We teach women to be financially independent. But that’s not enough. Emotional independence or the ability to have an independent healthy attitude towards one’s emotions irrespective of the other is as important as financial independence. Our emotionality is one of our strengths. Let no one make us feel “too much”.
“The traffic was so triggering,” remarked a lady casually. I smiled, if only she knew what she was talking about. I experienced a major triggered state recently set off by an innocuous statement of a friend. I am documenting it to help general public understand better what being triggered for someone with trauma history is about.
It’s like a slap tight across your face at first and then an explosive bomb
The unexpectedness of it shakes you to the core. It takes you a second to even process what was said. It’s like your brain heard it before your ears did. You stand there trying to hold your ground, quite literally. Everything becomes slow for sometime, the words of the other have taken you prisoner. It takes you some time to even make sense of what was said, but that doesn’t help, because the bomb has been triggered and it’s going to decimate inside like a nuclear chain of reactions.
You try to protect others from the bomb
If you have some awareness of what’s happening to your body, especially if you have history of triggered outbursts you try to move away from the ones you care about so that only one of you goes down with the rumble. Much like the bomb squad carrying a bomb away from the general public. Knowing fully well they have no idea what is happening and are likely to see this as rude and impulsive behavior. It’s an act of kindness, if they only knew that. Inability to be rude has often stopped me from taking the space I deserved and needed in triggered states, leading with a lot of mess to deal with after the trigger is over, like the aftermath of the tornado. I was still thinking of others so I text, “I’m on a call I will take some time”. Self-awareness is not always present in triggered states, especially for people who haven’t received professional help. But it can make a world of a difference; it can help you manage triggers better so that you can take care of yourself and others around you.
Chain of nuclear reactions
Your brain in the meanwhile is still going through chain of nuclear reactions and you desperately want to escape from your mind. I called my best friend. I told her all that I could about what happened, we laughed over some jokes only she and I could make in that state, and then I pleaded with her, “please, please, please distract me, tell me anything”. She helps me calm down. The chain of reaction slows down but is not extinguished, yet. The chain of reaction is an emotional flashback; there are some very rapid thoughts and a huge flood of emotions that feel like rage, fear, abandonment, and pain, so much pain. My mind feels like Chernobyl nuclear reactor. When someone reaches out to me, “are you ok”. I want to say yes, because that’s always the response, isn’t it. “Yes. I’m ok”, but something tells me I can take support that I need. I reach out to this friend whose innocuous words set off the trigger. “No I’m not”. I wanted to say, that I need a hug. I wanted to melt into somebody’s embrace. But I could not. I could not. I did not trust myself around people. Especially people I cared for. And just like that, something else they said felt like the magic spell was broken. I was brought to reality. I suddenly realized that I wasn’t in my past. The chain reaction was slowing down further. So I walked back to the people I didn’t entirely feel safe with, but had no longer a justification to provide for my behaviour.
Support and Safe Space
“Eat” said my friend. And I followed, knowing it was the best course of action. I knew it would keep my mouth shut, because more than once I ended up saying things I felt and were true, but didn’t moderate enough to not cause damage to others. And then we all got up to leave. For the next many hours, my mind went back and forth from annoyance to anxiety. My body felt exhausted from the flood of emotions I experienced but the thoughts didn’t stop. Oh the thoughts. They kept playing like a cassette in a loop. I was not able to get in a safe space, but I did everything to convince my brain I was.
The Next Day
I had work the next day. I woke up wired, but work has always been a wonderful distraction. However, it’s not always easy. I drove down to work in a dissociated state. I was so into my own thoughts that one moment I was out of my house and the next moment I was standing on the red light near my workplace. I was getting lost in conversations in my class. I realized I was unable to focus on anything significant, but work must continue as it always does. I came back to a chaotic home, a cousin who needed to get dressed for her college farewell. The hullaballoo of the moment retriggered my brain. I felt out of control, the sounds were too loud; the chaos was too much, more than once I snapped at people and immediately felt great pangs of regret and guilt. I tried to tell them to be quiet, but how and why? And when I finally found some time alone, I for the first time closed my ears so I could hear nothing from the outside world. And broke down, the floodgates that were shut since a day before, opened. And I let myself feel the pain. One hour later when a family member checked, I made the choice, the choice to let them see me like that. Sobbing and helpless amongst a sea of tissues, knowing fully well of the limited capacities of my family members in providing me the support I need. I had suffered alone far too long.
Acceptance
I let it out, the pain all of it, all of it. With my family members around for the first time supporting me the best of their abilities. I let them see my pain, because truly for the first time, I could see my pain. And later, after an hour of professional support, I was able to make sense of it all. The most mindful trigger I have experienced. And I accepted it, all of it. It was long due. I embraced it with tired hands, but my grip was firm.
Learnings
Acquire somatic skills and grounding exercises for the next triggered state
Take support and space to take care of you
People may trigger you, but they aren’t the cause of your triggers and therefore not responsible for it
You are NOT your triggers but you can use them to come close to your pain and healing
This semester I supervised a research (practicum) on adult ADHD. From what I learnt in last few years, psychology students and professionals are as misguided about ADHD as the lay public. Stereotypes about ADHD are aplenty. Most believe that ADHD is a “childhood disorder found in young boys who jump around in classrooms”.
ADHD is a being wired differently. It is not something that “goes away” in adulthood. The hyperactivity need not be physical; it could be verbal (talkative) or mental (inner restlessness). It’s can be found in all gender identities. And you do not have to fail schools/colleges to have it. Finally, attention deficit hyperactivity does not mean you have “deficit attention”, it means you have trouble *regulating* attention. It is a different neural wiring present in at least 5% of people across the world, that means 5 people in a class of 100 students have the possibility of being neurodivergent, ADHD.
In the last few years I came across many cases of neurodivergent misdiagnosed or undiagnosed. The pain of never knowing that you were always different and not deficit is something that everyone who has ever felt misfit can empathise with.
And so this topic became one of the most challenging tasks I have supervised in a long time, precisely because it came from an intensely personal space. I lost my temper more than once, facing at times empty classrooms, insensitive wording, half-hearted and less enthusiastic responses, wondering often if I have bitten more than I can chew or make my students chew.
Until the last day of the semester when a student walked up to me, I was expecting an average assignment report, but to my surprise the work was par excellence. It was a deeply sensitive qualitative exploration of lived experiences of people with ADHD. Before leaving the student turns to me and says, “I want to tell you something”. Her eyes welled up and she murmured “thank you”. I expected it to be a gratitude for being a tough taskmaster than I am. But instead she said,
“ thank you, because of you I was diagnosed with ADHD.
My struggles have a name”
It was time for me to be overwhelmed. Especially since the day was filled with some career related self-doubt moments. We spoke some more and I hugged her before she left.
It doesn’t have to be easy; it has to be meaningful.
I was invigilating an exam yesterday. A UGC prescribed compulsory Environment Studies paper that all first year students have to study. As I entered the classroom there was a huge cacophony of excited young girls giving their first offline exam post-Covid. But they settled down as soon as they saw the invigilators. The first thing my co-invigilator remarked was, “it would be difficult to invigilate Hindi students. They can be such a menace”. I raised an eyebrow wondering what could they mean.
“Hindi speaking schools” and “English speaking schools” are not just harmless categories; they represent class and caste status (because of its inextricable link with class). Some time ago in my class, I asked a question in my Psychology class, “How many students speak more than two languages?” The first few hands that went up were those who spoke in addition to Hindi and English, languages like Punjabi or Bengali or Telgu. And later and somewhat slowly the last girl to answer said she was well versed in Bhojpuri. The sequence of responses was not lost on me. And so we discussed the social status of mother tongues, the classism of English, and the acquired coolness of languages like Punjabi because of its large-scale cultural presence. Sidhu Mooswala songs are cool in a way a Tu Lagawelu Jab Lipastic is not.
I couldn’t help but think of my own schooling experiences in the 90s. Modern and “International” schools insisting on flawless English and controlling use of Hindi language through fines. Fine for speaking your mother tongue? I remember actively losing the opportunity to never acquire my grandmother’s dialect because of its association with “dehat” (village folk). I grieve the loss today and no matter how hard I try to acquire it today, I feel like a foreigner, cute but wannabe.
In the last one hour, I could see what my co-invigilator meant. The usual mischievousness, trying to look into each others answer scripts when the teacher was not looking, the exchange of helpless but funny glances, perhaps the unsaid communication of youth about the absurdity of answering questions for environmental studies while we continue to butcher our environment everyday. My co-invigilator remarked, “the playfulness of these girls would die down if they are placed in other courses with rapid and fluent English speaking students. Their confidence and self-esteem is likely to suffer.” I couldn’t help but agree.
While there are exceptions and it’s really the teachers job to ensure that language and class do not become barriers to learning and overall development of a student, we also know it’s far from the reality. In reality, classrooms often reproduce social dynamics, instead of challenging them. Hindi literature students are mischievous because they are in class with other Hindi literature students.
With this thought I smiled at a student, who I had been observing since some time. She wanted me to take my eyes off of her for a second to enable a quick check with her classmate sitting next to her. She smiled back.
It was the last class of the day. Attendance was sparse. Most students had taken an early leave for mid-semester Holi break. But I’ve always found smaller classrooms to provide with great opportunities for discussions. And so we ended up having a reinvigorating session on gender, social inequalities and mental health, where most students shared their unique perspectives and experiences helping everyone to see the world from different lenses.
At the end of the class, a student came to see me after class. She was urgently requesting for a Hindi translated textbook for my classes. “Mujhe samajh main sab aata hai class main, jo main khud hindi main translate karke answer likh sakti hoon, but kuch aise shabd hai psychology main jo main translate karna bahut difficult hai.” (I understand everything in class and I can translate what you teach in Hindi myself, but there are some peculiar words in psychology which I find very difficult to translate).
My mind went to all the words I used in class, explanatory style, rumination, internal locus of control, etiology, differential vulnerability, artifacts, etc. And realized that was indeed quite the challenge for students coming from Hindi speaking schools. There are very few to nil Hindi textbooks in psychology.
She asked me, “Is it ok agar main in difficult words ko english main likh du aur baaki sab answer main Hindi main likhu?” (is it ok if I write these difficult words in English in an answer otherwise written in Hindi?). “Of course” I responded. Although, I was not going to be her evaluator in the end semester exams, I hoped it would work. We as teachers have rarely discussed the issue of paucity of Hindi texts in psychology. On rare occasions that we have, individual teachers have been left to their own accord for solutions.
“If you feel, please write a note in your exam script, due to lack of availability of Hindi textbooks in psychology I have used English words wherever, a suitable Hindi word was not available.” I added. She didn’t look too happy with the resolution. But nodded her head. And then, we both walked out of the college.
I asked her about where she stays and how long will it take for her to go back home? She informed me that she lived far off and takes a bus that takes her over 1.5-2 hours one way, on days the bus does arrive on time.
The experience left me with deep-seated discomfort about the social inequality that plays out in classrooms. Only a few minutes ago we were discussing the class, caste, gender, and linguistic inequalities, almost as if it was another world. Everyone enthusiastically agreed to the problem of social injustice. But towards the end we all wrapped our bags and books to go back to the “real world.” A student who didn’t look like someone who would be using public transportation to college spoke over the same student while marking her attendance. Everyone was in a hurry to leave. It was the last class.
I looked up, and gently asked the student who was spoken over to repeat her name and then moved to the other student.
In the evening, I was sent a brochure from a mental health organization. They were organizing ‘Experiential (Paid) Workshops in Psychology’ and wanted me to share it with interested students. Internships, experiential programs, learning opportunities, practical experiences are often pursued by students of psychology to compensate for the lack of practical training in academia. They are even mandatory for some courses. However, they are often unaffordable for many students. It leads to unequal CV building, putting privileged students at an edge over others. You pay to be educated, so what’s wrong with that?
The entire field of mental health ends up becoming a privileged space for English speaking, upper class, upper caste, and religious majority folks. Mental health becomes inaccessible to a large section of the society. Adding to the already existing dismal picture of the field of psychology in the country. I have on many occasions used social media to promote some of these programs.
I have also been part of many such programs before. However, I have refrained from sharing such programs with my students in my classroom. I have always found that unethical, to be in my position and recommend a paid for psychology program, knowing too well not all the students in my class will be able to afford them. What about their mental health? So yesterday I communicated the same to the mental health organization. I will not promote a program that only benefits a few students. There must be some provisions to accommodate students who cannot afford to pay for these workshops but are equally eager to learn (scholarships if you may). They agreed.
There is a definite crunch for resources in the field of mental health in India; still I request all mental health organizations to find innovative ways to accommodate the diversity of students in our classrooms. I request all students who apply for such programs to demand that say in a 30 seat batch, at least 5 seats to be reserved for students who find it difficult to pay.
While we’re at it, it would also be wonderful if we could collect a list of common resources for texts and materials in different languages in Psychology that could be shared across universities.
I do genuinely believe that the the bright and articulate young student who I spoke to before, would one day be writing in the Hindi language for others to read.
Diversity is not charity. It is a value to be pursed in its own right. Especially in classrooms.
Few days ago, I was sitting in a park, enjoying the winter sun with a friend, when I felt like ordering some tea. And so I opened a food delivery app on my phone. Unsure of my location, I tagged the nearest location. Knowing that most delivery persons are not happy with change of locations en route, I hesitantly explained my exact location over phone. To my surprise the delivery person was more than happy following the directions, “haanji, koi problem nahi hai, I’m coming” (there’s no problem) he said.
In person he happened to be middle aged, balding, avuncular looking individual, dressed in fluorescent jacket and shoes. Instead of just thanking him for being accommodating, my friend decided to compliment him.
“I love your shoes, sir. Kitne acche chhamak rahe hai ek dum.” (they look so good on you)
The delivery person broke into a smile and replied,
“Mere bete ke hai. Yeh log retire kar dete hai, aur hum log pehen lete hai” (It’s my son’s. He discarded them, so I ended up wearing them.”
I stood there observing the exchange, wondering, would I be able to do that? Express my gratitude similarly? Was my friend more easily able to do so because (1) he was a man (2) making a personal compliment (3) to another man?
The exchange reminded me of an incident couple of years ago. On a trip with my girlfriends, I did end up being expressly kind and compassionate to a manager who went out of his way to make sure we were comfortable with our stay. He was so touched that he decided to, well, stay in touch. Couple of “you are very nice madam” messages later, I had to block him. Because, what if he takes it “otherwise?”
Many women psychologists or even psychology students face the same problem with men who may approach them over social media looking to get help. You feel reluctant to help because~ what if they take the empathy and positive regard, “otherwise”?
Similarly, some of my (women) student volunteers during the second wave of Covid complained that men were misusing their personal numbers as an invite for “friendship” or more. They were taking the volunteer work, “otherwise”.
But what is this “otherwise” that always keeps us in check. My friend spelt it out to husband who had complained, “You don’t treat the service staff well. Like you never smile at them when you talk to them”. My friend replied, “I’m from Delhi, if you smiled at random men, you’re probably going to end up raped and dead.”
It doesn’t stop at a smile; it’s overall body language. A friend noticed, “your body language is very masculine in public you know”. No I didn’t know. “Like your walks are very decisive and you come across as very strong, like don’t-mess-with-me type”. More recently, a student in class shared, “I’ve never faced any sexual harassment on Delhi busses but my friend often did and I thought she’s making it up. Until one day I saw it happen in front of me, I shouted at the man of course and asked him to “keep his hand to himself but I realized in the moment, the reason why she faced more harassment in busses than me could be the difference between my body language and hers.” Many women unconsciously adopt aggressive and masculine body language, just so that we’re not taken “otherwise”.
But the question is should we have to? Repress our human emotions like empathy, kindness, generosity, or gratitude? Stop smiling? Adopt a masculine demeanour? Exhibit aggressive body language? For something as basic as physical and psychological sense of safety?
And more importantly, does any of it actually help? Or is it a mass illusion we have created for women to feel more in control and for the society to conveniently blame the victim when something goes wrong? “Tumne hi kuch bola hoga” (you must have said something that he must have taken as an invite).
Rest assured, woman may not always be resting under the “resting bitch face”.
My dadi (beebi) came from the village to settle in Delhi city with my grandfather sometime in early 1960s. The lehnga-choli she wore in her village was deemed inappropriate by city standards. And so my grandfather encouraged/shamed her (not sure which emotion was predominant) to dress more like city women and not like an illiterate woman from dehaat that she was.
My grandparents settled in the Walled city, the place of my birth where I grew up amongst a mix of Hindu-Muslim population. Our next-door neighbours would often send us (veg) Biryani on Eid, which my family accepted with love, but curiously never ate. The Muslim women wore burkhas in public arena and the Hindu women dressed in sarees. Saree at the time was more appropriate attire for women, unlike salwar-suit that became common later. And so my dadi started dressing up in a saree, which she called a ‘dhoti’. I never asked her why, but I guess the 6 feet long clothing was akin to the ‘dhoti’ men of the village wore.
Some of my early memories of Beebi involve her coming out of Gusalkhaana (bathroom) in a petticoat and blouse. She would spend the next half an hour doing pooja. After which she would make some chai that she’d share with me, much to my delight. My educated parents found caffeine unfit for consumption for children! She would then wrap the dhoti and head out to the temple in our gali (lane), not as much for a second round of pooja but to savour a healthy dose of gossip with her friends about her daughter in laws. I know, because I went with her! She would come back, remove the dhoti and settle in the petticoat and “biloj” (blouse) once again. The dhoti was hung nearby to readily wrap up in case a guest came over.
The petticoat-and-blouse attire seemed incomplete to my city sensibilities but to Beebi it probably reminded of the lehnga-choli, she grew up in. Interestingly, beebi did not feel “naked” wearing just petticoat and blouse, as I would today. She did however feel naked if her head was not covered. “Nanga sar” (naked head) was worse than “nanga shareer”(naked body). I found the sight confusing and funny. Beebi would be sitting on her khaat (chaarpai) in the petticoat-and-blouse exposing her grand stomach. As soon as she would hear my baba (grandfather) come, she’d almost jump, not to wear her dhoti, but to cover her head.
For beebi, dupatta was convenient as it could quickly be turned into a ghungat if an elderly male member from outside would visit us and could also easily go back to an appropriate head covering length in front of my grandfather and other male members of the family.
Beebi swore by two things for women: (1) their hair should be neatly tied in a choti (braid) else women look like chudail and (2) their heads should be covered by saree pallu or dupatta. So she made sure she enforced the ghungat kaadna (head covering) tradition to her daughter-in-laws. After her marriage, my educated and modern mother also started keeping her head covered, especially in front of older members of the family. Village visits required multiple hairpins to keep the ghunghat in place. Beebi would instruct her daughter-in-laws to make sure their respective ghoonghats are in place at the entry of the village gate itself, “koi budha-busargh dikh gaya toh?” (what if you find elderly at the entry?). The horror of coming face to face with a village elder with “naked head” was always palpable in the visits. The only exception was when my mother would drive us down. Beebi, although traditional, was also a pragmatist and had a strict, “no ghoongat while driving policy”. She was very afraid of dying in a ghoongat related car crash.
Beebi continued to dress herself in dhoti until very late in life when doctor visits became common. Upon being coaxed by her daughter and daughter-in-law, beebi begrudgingly moved to salwar-suits. Only to realize that she had been missing the comforts of salwar-suits all her life! “Suit toh kaafi asaan hai pehene main bacchi. Dhoti toh sambhaalni mushkil ho jaati hai” (Salwar-suits are so conveninent my dear daughter. It’s quite cumbersome to handle sarees). Her South-Delhi private school educated granddaughters went further ahead and encouraged her to remove the dupatta and become ‘more modern’. I even went ahead and suggested she try a “hoodie”, a cool new way of covering one’s head! Beebi in turn commented about my “too modern” jeans and tees, but never enforced anything on us the way she could on her daughter-in-laws.
The head covering dupatta continued to provide beebi a source of security throughout her life. And so when she passed away (before my grandfather) as tradition would have it, she was dressed in marital attire, and her head was, covered.
Beebi wasn’t educated because of the gender, community and times she was born in. I cannot help but wonder. If she were a young girl today, would she be refused education once again, just because she refused to remove her head cover?
As a woman when I try to talk about my pain, I’ve always been pointed to another woman who has “had it worse”. As insensitive as it is, molestation is compared with being raped and being raped with murdered. Every time, we’re told to feel better, by looking at the miseries of another woman. In doing so we do injustice to both women, and maintain status quo of gender violence.
That is what comparison of pain does~ absolutely nothing.
What is painful? What is hurtful? What is a transgression? And what is abuse?
As a society we have outsourced the responsibility of arriving at the answer to what counts as a significant damage to one’s body, soul, and psyche to our justice system. But as a psychologist my job is not to determine the upper limits of pain, but its lower limits. If murder is the upper limit of hurting someone, what is the lower limit of hurting someone? What is the lower limit of being hurt for you?
Is it physical abuse? “Has he ever raised his hand on you?” Or is verbal abuse? Routine attacks with words laced with condescension, humiliation, and disrespect? What about non-verbal Gestures? Can harsh tones, sneers, and rolling eyes hurt people?
What if they did nothing? Never hit you. Never said anything to you. Never noticed you. Left you in a dark hole of silence, unseen and unheard like a black hole forever being weighed down by the gravity of your own emotions? Does neglect count?
The queer thing about being human is that we are hurt even by silences. By absences and deficits, by omission and not just commissions.
Ironically, we humans have gone on to create a world in which we compete not only for marks, jobs, and houses, but also for our hurt. Pain Olympics where we validate only some forms of hurts and tell others “it’s really not that bad you know”.
Everyone’s pain is valid.
It takes great courage to accept this statement, because when we open ourselves to another person’s pain, we are also forced to feel our own pain. And not everybody is ready for that.
And that is ok. Just like nobody should be belittled for their pain, nobody should be forced to feel their pain. And that is ok. Just like nobody should be belittled for their pain, nobody should be forced to feel their pain.
Just don’t tell me I died less painfully if I drowned in bathtub compared to the sea. I am dead. Leave me alone.
Have you ever walked on the road almost about to be hit by a vehicle? What you experience is called the survival mode, feelings of rage or fear, fight or flight. Imagine growing up in a home where your brain is constantly feeling this threat of almost dying, but never quite. Your brain is set to feel constant danger. Excessive anger, shutting down, running away, feeling numb or inability to experience happiness is the realty of trauma brain, long after the trauma has ceased.
Doodh ka jala chhaach bhi fook fook ke peeta hai~ Hyper vigilance
Growing up in an abusive household meant constantly being in a state of hypervigilence aka “walking-around-eggshells”. It is a survival strategy of the brain that stays with you long after the trauma has ended.
Pyar do pyar na lo~ Intimacy Issues
Have you ever tried to pat a stray dog? Dogs that have been mistreated in the past are extremely mistrustful of kindness and love. Even though they look like they are trying to come close to you to be patted and loved, more often than not, if you come too close to them they are likely to run away or worse bite you. Relational trauma survivors find it hard to receive love and affection, the one thing that can heal them.
Feelings of being permanently damaged or worthlessness
Why are we born? Why do we die? And why do we suffer? Are some of the most existential concerns of human life. A child in an abused household does not have the rational faculty to make sense of abuse in hands of the very people who were supposed to protect it. “I must not be worthy of being loved” is an easier explanation for the child to grasp. The sense of brokenness, worthlessness, and self-loathing is carried into adulthood.
Main Kaun hoon? Fragmented Sense of Self
Many versions of self and identity emerge growing up in an abusive home. Unpredictable circumstances, kabhi khushi, kabhi gam means unpredictable coping responses. For example, one part of the survivor could empathize with the abuser because the abuser also has the power to make the child feel loved while another part could be filled with rage. This leads to fragmentation of one’s selfhood, the enraged self could be enraged at itself and the empathetic self continues to empathise with itself~ a self at odds with itself. Outsiders can clearly see two different “sides” to the individual, especially under stressful circumstances.
Main fikr ko dhuye main udaata chala gaya ~ Substance Use and Abuse
Substances like alcohol and drugs do different things for different people. For some it helps them numb their feelings, for others it helps them express their feelings.
Unfortunately our society has greater acceptance for a person using substances (e.g. alcohol/tobacco) for regulating their emotions, than they have for a person visiting therapy.
Topsy-Turvy Definition of Normal
‘An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior.’- Viktor Frankl.
Survivors of childhood abuse seldom realize anything wrong in disrespect, abuse, boundary crossing, and violence, because it is the norm. On the contrary, respect, compliment, kindness and affection are rather foreign and abnormal concepts for the trauma brain. This is why they are more likely to be involved in abusive relationships.
Humour and Art
“Life is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel.”― Jean Racine
“Take your broken heart, make it into art.”- Carrie Fisher
Pain demands to be felt and seen. For many it’s far easier to express their raw gut wrenching pain through humour or artistic forms.
Empathy and Sensitivity
The hyper vigilant brain is also the hypersensitive brain. It is a brain trained to spot changes in environment easily, resulting in a more sensitive individual prone to feeling easily distressed. The more sensitive individuals have the capacity to be immensely empathetic and kind, but intimacy issues may sometimes prevent them use this sensitivity effectively. For example, some may use their sensitivity to take care of animals, because they feel safer with animals than humans.
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