Trauma Language

I came across a meme a week or so back that was talking about the bond between trauma survivors. I've never put it into words quite as succinctly before, but what it said was this:

"One reason why trauma survivors often bond with each other so profoundly--which is different from a "trauma bond"-- is because people who've been through certain things "speak" a different emotional language than the rest of humanity.... and we recognize that "language" when we hear it." 

-Dr. Glenn Patrick Doyle            

The reason why this stood out to me was because only a couple months back I was having a conversation with my husband about the fact that I often struggle to make friends with people who don't have trauma in their past. Whereas I often almost instantly connect with people who do have trauma in their past. It comes easier anyway. I also don't deal with the same anxiety when making new friendships with people who have had trauma versus when attempting to make friends with people who have not. It feels difficult to connect, and I sometimes end up feeling like the relationship is unbalanced. That's not to say that I can't or don't have wholesome relationships with people who haven't experienced trauma. I have some wonderful friendships with people who have led trauma-free lives, my husband included. I'm merely noting a pattern in my life, and there are some who break from that pattern. It just normally takes longer. 

I also want to point out that I have no intention of defining what "trauma" entails, because that looks very different for different people. And trauma is trauma. I don't believe in grading or ranking it. But I like this idea of a unique "language" so to speak because it puts into words something I've thought a lot about before in the past. Although I think... maybe people are capable of learning this language if they care enough to do so. Let me share with you a brief story.

There is a moment that sticks out in my mind very clearly. A friend from work, many years ago said something to me that acknowledged that I had been abused as a child. This wouldn't be all that peculiar, nor do I take any issue with that acknowledgement... except, I had never talked to her about it and there was no reason for her to have known. We had never even hung out outside of work. To make this statement about me so boldly when in truth, we hardly knew each other at all was.... bold and unexpected. After acknowledging she was right, I asked her how she knew. Her response has always stuck out to me.

"Compassion and understanding only come from experience. You are too loving to not have been hurt. People who have been hurt deeply, love deeper" 

Realistically, I've always thought that beyond that, she must have had a gift for observation. A radar for the abused. And on hearing her response, I instantly knew that she herself had experienced trauma, because I have only ever been analyzed that quickly before by people who have that shared experience... But also, part of me has always disagreed with that statement. It didn't sit right. I have found people who have led trauma-free lives who have deep compassion for others. I don't believe that having compassion first necessitates experiencing trauma. It seems to me that what she was recognizing, was not necessarily that I loved deeper or had more compassion, but that I spoke her emotional language. All my life I have found people who have experienced trauma. It has often felt like a sort of innate radar or magnetism. And on multiple occasions, people have come to me to talk about their trauma without even knowing anything about my history. And this idea, that perhaps they recognized a different emotional "language" without even knowing it, and therefore felt safe to share themselves with me, which in turn helped us connect... makes sense. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say "People who have been hurt deeply, love differently."

That said, I am very grateful for the people who have allowed me to develop deep relationships with them, regardless of whatever personal history they may or may not have. It is easy to recognize when someone loves you deeply rather than just casually, in passing, when convenient. And few things are more comforting, to me, than feeling free to be vulnerable.. Freedom to say the things I’m thinking even when they have weight, to ask the questions I’m pondering, even knowing they might provoke a vulnerable moment on either your or my part. Feeling safe to cry. That feels like love. That feels like safety. The trust that they love you as much as you love them is an unquantifiable treasure.