Ask and Answer: Fighting with Ghosts
Am I hardwired to see my father lurking behind every confrontation?
I was abused by my father — physically and psychologically — while also experiencing periods of warmth, nurturing, and love. He was and still manages to be a close friend who I see once a month or so. I’ve forgiven him for who he was.
Now, after years of substance abuse, therapy, and recovery I still find myself carrying my early impression of him with me in my social interactions—especially when confronted with unwarranted and unproductive criticism. My response is physical—my stomach twists. Blood pools in my quivering knees and legs. I mentally freeze up and if I can manage to communicate I can become over conciliatory and apologetic. Then I bolt for cover.
Recently I drove away from a critical confrontation in a quivering state and shouted to myself: “Your dad isn’t here right now!” I laughed a bit, felt myself settle down, and wondered if it ever could actually be true.
Fellow Human:
First, I really feel for you. A therapist of mine once used the term “fighting with ghosts” to describe those early childhood patterns that just keep coming up again and again. They can feel so persistent, so automatic, and so deeply ingrained that it is hard to imagine a different way.
As adults who experienced abuse or trauma as children, particularly in the home, we often find ourselves confused by what feels like conflicting emotions and experiences. We have likely had the opportunity to develop greater independence from those who have previously caused us harm, and also, as you describe, we may have a much more functional and healthy adult relationship with the perpetrators of harm. Our cerebral cortex has developed the ability to analyze and interpret past events in nuanced ways. We have a greater ability to think complexly and deeply about not only our experience, but the factors that impacted our abuser (“they were raised the same way”, “they did the best they could”, or “they have recognized the impact of their actions” are common phrases I hear from adults processing childhood abuse). We are no longer consistently dependent on those who caused harm for our overall survival and well-being. There is often a sense of frustration, a belief that we should “be over it by now” because we have thought through the experiences, feel we understand them, and are no longer in immediate danger. In college, my friends and I came up with the phrase “The Curse of the Smart Person” to describe the ways that we could think about, analyze, and deeply deconstruct our patterns and habitual responses to things, though we still felt out of control changing them. What I know now that I didn’t know then was just how deeply our nervous systems learn strategies to try to take care of us when we are young and in harmful situations, and that the nervous system does not answer to the brain. The nervous system is our number one protector, our ally, has our back no matter the cost, and the nervous system only answers to bodily cues that we are safe. Not thoughts, not clever interpretations. Physical Safety. Period. We can “think” our way through a nervous system response a thousand times, and a thousand times the response will return. For those of us (hello!) prone to thinking and less connected with body cues, this can feel hopeless, but I assure you it is not. It does require reframing and refocusing on tending to the body and setting up relational supports.
There is only so much that I can determine with certainty from a brief email, but Fellow Human, I can tell you with certainty that you are on the path and have the tools to make significant progress toward your goal of “deprogramming” your trauma-response in your interpersonal relationships. The information that you share demonstrates personal awareness and insights that many people don’t have when they begin the process of addressing unresolved trauma, and this will serve you well as you continue to explore what healing looks like for you. You are so astute in describing your personal, physical response (twisted stomach, quivering legs, brain freeze) to your trauma trigger, as well as the trigger itself (criticism and critique). You also have a specific “style” of trauma response sometimes called “fawning” (I hate that term and prefer “making nice” or “people-pleasing”), which is common, particularly when the original perpetrator(s) of harm also could be nurturing. Making-nice essentially means trying to make the other person happy so that the harm stops — for example, I have been known to say “thank you” to someone who has just been ruthlessly mean to me, and I immediately wonder how the hell those words just came out of my mouth. Let’s talk more specifically about some practical things that may be supportive.
Safety First — As stated above, the nervous system only responds to cues that we are Safe or Not Safe. I love your anecdote about shouting out loud and causing yourself to laugh. Essentially, you found a way to remind yourself that you are safe! People often skip over or minimize breathing exercises because they seem so simple, but they are in fact one of the best ways to communicate directly to our nervous system that we are safe. I recommend looking up several breathing practices and picking one or two that feel good to you. When you feel activated, go into a breathing pattern right away. You can also practice stepping away — it can feel awkward at first, especially in a professional situation or somewhere you feel trapped, but a solid “I need a second to gather my thoughts” can do wonders for taking space to find a sense of safety.
Recovery Time — I had a terribly unproductive experience with a personal trainer once, but he taught me one great thing that I think about a lot in terms of “progress” in trauma work. Essentially, he said, cardiovascular health is not measured by how low you keep your heart rate — rather, it is measured by how quickly you come back to baseline. When we enter a trauma response, we often can’t stop it before it starts. Therefore, instead of beating yourself up for experiencing the response, keep track of whether you feel you are able to feel in more control or are able to ground yourself more quickly over time.
Relational wounds must be healed relationally — This was a tough one for me in my own work, as I tend to retreat, isolate, and dissociate when I am in a trauma response. The last thing I want to do is be around people when I have just been activated by a person! However, healing happens when we are able to implement or experience new patterns and responses, and this is often slow and, at times, clumsy work. I recommend talking with one or two trusted friends or confidants about your experience, specifically what you know comes up for you in a trauma response. Particularly since you tend to “make nice,” other people may not know that you have been activated, and it can be helpful to share with people who understand what is happening for you. Even if you are triggered by a person with whom it is NOT safe to share your experience, processing it later with a person who gets it can help your nervous system revisit the event in a safe, relational environment. Or, having that person on the other side of a text message exchange in the moment can be very grounding.
Resources and Education — I cannot recommend highly enough the book “Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents” for anybody who experienced childhood trauma, even if you are not currently experiencing your trauma response with a parent. Peter Levine’s “Waking the Tiger” is an excellent resource for understanding the physical trauma experience and methods for healing that attend to the body. Deb Dana has several books on polyvagal trauma theory that are very clear and helpful. I also recommend the podcast “Stuck, Not Broken” which focuses on non-jargon discussion of trauma recovery and is focused on self-healing.
I send you so much good energy and I see that part of you that shouts to affirm your own safety. I wish you healing, and all the degrees of freedom you will find along the way.
