Trauma with a big T, trauma with a little t, ancestral trauma, psychological trauma, complex trauma, societal trauma, chronic trauma…

I know trauma is all around me and within me and it’s so big that I just can’t get my arms around it.

I never identified as a person with trauma which is super confusing because that’s impossible, right? I know we can’t compare… but when I look at my privileged white girl life, even though I’ve had my share of tough things it’s not even close to the same ballpark as “real” trauma, I mean, it can’t be, or maybe…?

When I was a kid, I switched schools between 8th and 9th grade. This means that, a few days past my 14th birthday, and a couple of years after a long, difficult, dramatic divorce between my parents, I left all of my friends and got thrust into a school where I didn’t know anyone.

I’d taken some standardized tests and the new school put me in all honors classes, which was fine, except for advanced geometry.

We even talked about it: my math testing was borderline… I could have gone into regular math or advanced. My mom and the new school administrator even asked me which I’d rather do.  I chose the hard one.

That’s what I was raised to do, take the path that offered the most challenge and the most opportunities, so math for smart people seemed like the only obvious choice to me

So, when I rolled into this math class a little nervousness turned into complete bewilderment. I would look around at all the other kids knowing the answers and walking up to the chalkboard drawing stuff and think: My brain doesn’t do this. Clearly there is genius here but I just can’t understand it.

I frequently stayed up all night trying to figure out geometry and it was torture. When I think about that year, all I can remember is feeling so stupid because I tried as hard as I possibly could and barely squeaked through that class.

I never asked for help.

Even the idea of asking for help didn’t enter my mind.

I’ve recently learned that what I went through then, and about 400 million times since then is a trauma response.

Known as hyper-independence, it’s a trait that’s learned around trust and a feeling that you can rely only on yourself. It’s developed to protect yourself from further harm.

I went to college at a time when group learning was becoming a big thing. Previously, students would just sit in chairs alone in class and learn. It didn’t work well after graduation when everyone entered the workforce where no one works alone.

So, in my era, we sat in circles, did most of our work in groups, and I hated it. It caused me so much stress and anxiety to have the work of others on my team affect my grades. I’d literally do entire group projects alone so I could have complete control of the outcome (others in the group were thrilled to let me do it so they could go play).

And I’ve proceeded like this my entire life.

Until now.

I’m making asking for help my mission.

And, you know what? Life feels so much better.

I’m still confused about trauma. But a little less so now that I can start to see it in my own behavior. What I thought was a characteristic that made me successful comes from a place of self-protection. I can actually transcend it and choose an easier, more fulfilling way: asking for help from those who want to love and support me.