Healing from Childhood Trauma in the Midst of COVID-19 Isolation
The COVID-19 pandemic has disrupted many areas of life for people across the globe. From job loss to loss of loved ones to canceled travel plans, this year has brought with it much heartache, dysregulation, and even trauma.
But for those recovering from childhood trauma, such as abuse or neglect, the social isolation that has come with COVID-19 stay-at-home orders and the like, being separated from our support systems and usual coping mechanisms can feel like life or death. What do you do when you feel like you’re already hanging on by a thread and then that thread snaps?
The Threat of Isolation
Now, there are many types of trauma beyond child abuse, such as partner abuse, PTSD, etc., but I can only speak from my own experience in regards to growing up in an abusive home.
As a child, I was subject to physical and emotional abuse by my father nearly every day, along with my two siblings. This abuse persisted for nearly 13 years until my mother found it in her to finally leave my rageful, alcoholic father and I was old enough to tell my father that his poor treatment of me had to stop. But up until that point, I had felt utterly hopeless, trapped, angry, and isolated. Several attempts to reach out for help from adults around me were ignored, so I ultimately learned to rely only on myself. Despite having some friends, it was a lonely existence.
While this experience could have turned me bitter, it pushed me to realize that I do need people around me in order to feel some sense of calm and safety. Though I struggle to find a balance between isolation and total dependency, I can recognize the importance of having a reliable support system.
This — and a few coping mechanisms, like going to the gym or taking trips–was all I had going into 2020. But when COVID-19 hit, I found myself completely dismantled. Not only did I not know who I was outside of my friendships, but being forced back into isolation triggered on such a deep level that I found myself reliving traumatic events that I had since then repressed. And I was not prepared to unpack this completely on my own.
Making Sense of Painful Memories
First, it was the memories. Crying for my mother at night. Being punched by my father. The hateful comments. Asking for help and not being believed. I faced the reality that there were nearly 13 years worth of memories left to be uncovered. Thankfully, my mind only revealed a few at a time, but it still felt like an overwhelming flooding of grief and pain.
As an adult, I have put on the facade of being happy, healed, and successful. I have a thriving business, great friends, and travel to foreign countries on a regular basis. But I am realizing now that all of these have served to numb my consistent sense of loneliness. With these pillars taken away, I feel just like a child again — alone, scared, and unsafe.
This “flooding”, as I call it, was so overwhelming that I started losing all sense of control in every area of my life. My romantic relationship. My work. Communicating with family. My physical and mental health. I couldn’t go to the gym to burn off restless energy and I couldn’t travel to “escape” anymore. I couldn’t see my friends (being in another state) and I came to question the basis of my relationships with my parents. What did it mean for my life that my dad abused me and my mom “left” me? Who am I if I have no one? Why did I feel so out of control?
Unraveling and Rebuilding
Ultimately, my romantic relationship fell apart. My father had started drinking again and we were trying to get him into rehab. I begged my mom to be the mom I always wanted her to be but to no avail. I gave up working because I didn’t have my fire anymore.
But will all of those things falling apart, I entered survival mode. I could either give up (in the most tragic sense of the word) or find a way to “fix” it. I started tapping into as many resources as I could find. A support group for adult survivors of child abuse. Therapy. And I bought a puppy.
But I still feel lonely. It’s not as life or death as it felt when I was in total isolation, but rather hangs as a question in my mind: Who am I alone? I do not have a strong sense of self. I am trying to create my own sense of safety. Trying to regulate my own emotions while making sense of the past. It’s no easy feat, that’s for sure.
I do have some hope, though. I have found companionship with people who share similar stories of my own. I see people posting about recovery on Facebook or sharing their stories on YouTube. Even at a distance, it makes me feel less alone. And it makes me feel proud of myself for trying to work on myself.
Healing is Hard, But it’s Happening
Healing from trauma is hard but it’s happening for people around the world every day. How many people have hit rock bottom but then have found the strength to pick themselves up and rebuild their lives? Though I feel like I am only at the beginning of my journey, I am proud of myself for not giving up. And in some sense, I am thankful for this great unraveling, which has pushed me to finally do the deeper work. If there was ever a silver lining to 2020, it would be that for me. Thank you, 2020, for effing up my life in a real way.
I have sincere empathy for anyone who is on the journey of healing from childhood trauma in the midst of social isolation and global disruption. This situation has been re-triggering for many of us, and we have to acknowledge the hard work that’s being done while we lack many of our usual resources — like our support system or coping mechanisms. We have to make new ones. Find new ways of relating. And figure out how we want to rebuild ourselves.
Much love to you for doing the work. You’re in good company — even if it doesn’t always feel that way.
