One of the hardest things about trauma recovery is the process of recognizing which relationships are mutual and supportive and letting go of those that are not.
I’ve done this over the course of years, particularly with family members, most of whom are clearly toxic to me. But also with people who I had considered friends and supporters for many years. I had to let them go after multiple attempts to help them understand that my condition is the result of a lifetime of abuse, especially sexualized violence, compounded by psychiatric and medical abuse in the last 8 years. Instead of believing what I say about my lived experience, and the neuroscience behind it, they let me know in subtle and not so subtle ways that they think I’m the problem. I’m not taking the right perspective, thinking the right thoughts, or making the right choices. If I would just do what they think I should do, my life would be better.
Recently, I decided to tell a long-time connection why I had backed away. I had enough respect for what had come before and for the person who had been my friend to let her know why I had stopped responding to her messages of encouragement. I wrote her a note that told her how her behavior had affected me and that it was not okay for me to keep being exposed to that.
She responded with a lengthy letter of her own. It said that she hadn’t meant any harm, just that she believed in my potential and she hoped I would see things her way. And she went on and on about her way. There was no acknowledgment of what I’m actually dealing with. Her words made clear that what I had sensed was true. She thinks she has the answers for my life, even though she doesn’t understand it.
I thought about not responding, but I decided to give her an object lesson in case it could help her treat the next traumatized person better. Here’s what I sent:
“Thank you for taking the time to write back. My letter wasn’t questioning your intentions, but describing the effect those interactions had on me. Intent and impact are different.
I know you’ve accomplished a great deal in your life, and I’ve always admired your dedication to your family and community. That’s why I hope you’ll consider something I’ve learned.
From what I can see, you still have unresolved developmental trauma that is limiting your ability to fully understand yourself and others. My hope is that you’ll find a truly trauma-informed therapist and commit to several years of deep work. Once you’ve done that, you’ll be able to see relationships, conflict, and healing in a completely different way.
If my suggestions come across as dismissing your perspective and experience, I’m truly sorry. My intention is simply to encourage you because I believe so strongly in your potential. I can see a future where you’re no longer held back by the patterns you can’t yet recognize. This is offered with love and respect.
If that landed badly, it is because it does exactly what your letter did. It assumes authority over your life, identifies a problem you didn’t ask me to diagnose, tells you what kind of healing you need, predicts what you will think afterward, and wraps it in love and respect. In reality, I would never presume to know more about your life and needs than you do, or prescribe a formula for you to follow.
I don’t need someone to decide what a meaningful life should look like for me. I need people willing to understand the conditions I have lived through and how those conditions have shaped my options, losses, and values.
Trauma has nothing to do with “holding on to pain.” It’s a neurophysiological condition caused by too much demand for too long combined with insufficient social support. Particularly, lack of attunement, compassionate witnessing, empathy, and validation of lived experience from those we turn to for help.
Your view assumes that if I’m not content, I am simply using the wrong strategy. That overlooks how much of my life has involved navigating institutional betrayal, chronic health challenges and disabilities created by medical and psychiatric abuse, how hard I’ve had to fight for appropriate care, the deep financial impact of uncovered care, and the long-term effects of developmental trauma. None of those disappear because someone offers a different philosophy.
My focus has been on building a sustainable life, and surrounding myself with people who don’t keep adding to the harm. Our bodies respond to the conditions in which we live and the relationships in which we engage. When those are grounded in respect, safety, and recognition of reality, we function better. I don’t seek the “control,” you described, but an environment that supports my well-being instead of repeatedly undermining it.
My letter wasn’t asking you to imagine a better future for me. It was explaining why I need relationships where my present and past can be acknowledged without being redirected. Your reply explains why you responded the way you did, and offers more of the same response. Rather than recognition of what has been stolen from me, the focus returned to prescribing a path forward. I understand why you offered that, but it also confirmed what I sensed. Pushing positivity while ignoring the conditions under which I live is like telling a drowning person that everything will be OK if they would just smile hard enough.
I truly appreciate the kindness you’ve shown me over the years, and I will always be grateful for that. At the same time, I recognize that the kind of relational support my body needs is different from what you can offer. There is no blame, simply an acknowledgment of what is essential for my well-being.”
I expect I won’t hear from her again. I’m a little sad that the connection turned out to be the fair weather type, but that’s okay. Letting go of that frees up energy and focus for relationships that are mutual and supportive.
