What My Trauma “Demons” Taught Me

I used to dread and loath when trauma demons from my past and present came for a visit. They’d come in the form of debilitating flashbacks, triggers, night terrors and nightmares, panic attacks, intrusive memories, and so much more. But then, I had an experience with one of these “demons” that changed everything.

My daughter kept asking to go to the beautiful university gardens nearby. I avoided it and made excuses because I feared returning there. I knew it would trigger a suffocating amount of trauma demons.

Even though I had graduated over a year prior, a paperwork issue arose that I needed to resolve. I did my best to mentally and emotionally prepare.

The day arrived that I had selected to go to campus. My heart was racing. My anxiety high. My body bracing for the full impact of a semi-truckload of trauma demons ready to tear my psyche to shreds. It didn’t hit until after I resolved the paperwork issue and had sat down on a bench in the gardens. My daughter was playing and splashing in the water features.

Pregnant in my 3rd trimester and carrying over 12 credits. There I stood, in a bathroom in front of a full-length mirror. Staring at my slightly larger pregnant body. I felt deep pain, grief and trauma. He didn’t want me anymore. I stood there gaping in confusion. I was a beautiful pregnant woman! Carrying his child. And he still didn’t want me.

“Sit with me.” she pleaded. “Hold me. I’m still hurting!” And she began to weep.

I was shook. This was no demon. This was me! Hurt, broken-hearted, tender, deeply wounded, vulnerable, pregnant, full-heart-giving, 24-year-old young bride – me. Pregnant. Rejected. Discarded. Unjustly punished for unknown reasons. Over and over again. Here she stood in my mind’s eye simply asking to be held while she wept.

An incredible wave of compassion and empathy washed over me.

“I will sit with you.” I told her. “I will hold you and weep with you for as long as you need me to. I’m here for you.”

There I sat on that bench, my arms wrapped around myself and weeping with her. With me. I don’t recall how long I sat there on that bench, but it was a sacred moment. I listened and watched as similar memories passed through my mind, wanting, needing to be known and heard.

That moment in the gardens was a defining revelation that changed my healing approach. You see, our trauma demons aren’t demons here to torture us and drag us back into a deep, dark past. They are only pieces of our past selves, surfacing. Letting us know that we still hurt, that there is still something we need. Maybe we need a little more acknowledgment and validation for our pain; a chance to finally and safely have an emotional release, obtain comfort, or just to be held.

What have been some of your trauma demons? What have you learned from them?