Let's talk trauma, shall we? It's the jalapeno in life's burrito, the piranha in the swimming pool, the missing piece in your 999-piece puzzle. It's spicy, bitey, and frustrating, but it’s there, and it adds a dash of flavor to our otherwise bland existence.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not promoting a lemonade stand filled with 'trauma-tinis'. I'm merely pointing out that our traumas do not define us, but they're a part of us, like our noses, or our unhealthy obsession with cute cat videos.
As someone who's collected traumas like a boy scout collects badges (honestly, if they gave out badges for this stuff, I'd be an Eagle Scout), I've come to realize that we don't, in fact, erase our traumas. Why? Well, firstly, human beings are not whiteboards. That metaphor just doesn’t hold up. Sure, our lives might sometimes feel like a frenzied professor’s chalkboard in a college movie, but we can’t just grab an eraser and make everything vanish.
Secondly, trauma isn't like a typo you can fix with autocorrect. They’re more like typos in a published book – printed, bound, and sold in thousands of copies. It’s there for everyone to see. You can't just Ctrl + Z it out of existence.
And thirdly, why would we want to? I mean, if I erased every trauma, every misstep, I’d lose half my material for social gatherings. “Hey, remember when I tripped and fell into the birthday cake?” Hilarious! “Remember when I got locked in the bathroom at the office party?” Crowd-pleaser!
What we CAN do is reduce the impact our trauma has on us. And how do we do that? I'm glad you asked. This is where it gets fun.
Imagine you're watching your favorite horror movie. The first time you saw it, you screamed, spilled popcorn all over your new couch, and possibly aged a couple of years. But the second time? It’s not as scary. You know when to cover your eyes, when the jump-scares are coming, and where the villain is hiding. By the tenth time, you're laughing, predicting dialogues, and questioning the villain's life choices.
That's what reducing the impact of trauma is like. The more we explore our trauma, the more familiar we become with it. Like a horror movie, each replay takes the edge off. We learn to recognize triggers, spot patterns, and predict reactions.
Is it easy? Oh, honey, no! It's about as easy as assembling an IKEA flat-pack without instructions, swearing in seven different languages, and ending up with extra screws and an uneven table. But it's doable. And over time, the furniture gets less wobbly, the instructions make more sense, and we curse less.
In the end, our trauma is part of our story. But remember this - it’s just a chapter, not the entire book. So, let’s reduce its impact, squeeze the life out of those trauma-lemons, and make a dang good lemon meringue pie.
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