I recently noticed that in the wake of a new trauma, all my old traumas have come out to play with the new kid on the block.

Here I was thinking that I had done the work to expel them, only to find the little darlings have only been taking a nap.

The recent election of a United States president who is an accused sexual predator, and his proposed appointments of other individuals with these same qualifications awakened my usually quiet sexual assault trauma with a vengeance.

She woke up angry and incredibly vocal. Her screams of incredulity could be heard on all my social media pages and in my conversations with anyone who made the mistake of asking how I was doing. This fear and distrust of men took over my well-being at every mention of incidents of aggression reported from the new “your body, my choice” mentality that is now acceptable.

Next came the little trauma I thought had been banned from the playground a long time ago. As a woman raised in the 50s, we were schooled that our worth was in how well we mastered sitting quietly and looking pretty. Believing that I was not good enough and did not deserve to take up space in this world started in my adolescence when kids made fun of me at the bus stop. I learned to make myself small, even invisible, but I’ve worked hard to allow my quirkiness to shine through and my voice to be heard.

Talks of removing or changing the social security system that I completely rely on brought forth, again, one of my oldies but goodies: the fear-based “not enough to go around” mentality. He is the one that prompted me to once tell a boyfriend that my biggest fear was ending up a homeless old lady, sitting on a street curb eating cold beans out of a can. Of course he promised that would never happen to me as long as he was around. He wasn’t around very long.

The chaos and fear and bullying going on in my mind from all my little trauma darlings since the morning of November 6th have left me catatonic and unable to expel them from my heretofore usually peaceful playground.

As I took solace in my comfy chair, I heard a voice I thought had been lost. It reverberated the simple yet powerful word “No,” and suddenly the voices of fear and lack and hopelessness grew silent. I watched in amazement as they slowly filtered out, some throwing rocks in a last ditch effort to keep my attention. Others held their head down in shame because they knew better.

And in the silence, I remembered the tools I needed to survive and keep my traumas from controlling my life:

1. Always focus on the breath. That is where the healing begins.

2. Sit in silence and let the hurtful thoughts flow through—without giving them any attention.

3. Get outside. It serves as a reminder that if the trees and the birds cannot only survive but thrive all that Mother Nature throws at them, then we too will make it through whatever comes to us.

4. Lose ourselves in creativity. Read, write, paint, sing. It is a wonderful way to empty ourselves of our anxieties. Some of the greatest works were created during times of oppression.

5. Gather with family and friends. Vent and hug and laugh and cry.

6. Find ways to serve and protect. Walk beside a young girl as she is being heckled in the streets. Stand between a woman wearing a hijab and the ones tormenting her. Give whatever money and time you can spare to those too afraid to ask for help.

7. And then, again, remember to breathe.

Our noisy little traumas are only powerful if we give them our attention.

But our purpose during these challenging times is to rebel, with love.
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“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” ~ Viktor E. Frankl

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