Chapter

4

Layers of
Trauma

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to
seek and find all the barriers within yourself
that you have built against it.”

—Jalaluddin Rumi

*

After reading the Preface, you might assume that there was no joy in our family, but that is so wrong. This often happens when folks are so immersed in their trauma story. It is vital, at an appropriate time in treatment, to identify the power of the positive in family dynamics that created resilience to survive traumatic events. I remember clearly there was love and joy mixed in with the pain. There were lovely family gatherings and wonderful, comforting food; my grandmother was “Apple Grandmom” because of her German apple cake, which my mother still makes today. I’m certain that any words and behaviors that my grandmother heaped on her daughters were the very words and behaviors that were heaped on her and her sisters and brothers when they were young. My grandfather was silent and stoic. Though he was never without a beer in his hand, I never saw him drunk. I tried everything I could to make him love me. I vividly remember bringing him my third-grade school photo. I was the oldest grandchild and he was proud of me. The photo was a typical school picture for a child my age. I was missing a tooth and my hair was sticking out.

His reaction took me completely by surprise. He said, “Why would I want that ugly picture?”

Of course, I was devastated. His hurtful words became embossed in my heart, which I further interpreted as meaning: “You are ugly, unlovable, defective!” And that is how we begin to define ourselves. My grandfather was joking; he didn’t mean to hurt me. He would have been horrified to know that I added that to a long list that my “inner critic” was compiling against myself over and over again, just as my grandmother and grandfather did, as my mother and father did, as my aunt and uncle did, and all those people in my life who were repeating generations of self-demeaning mantras.

I believe that not one member of the generations of my family was malicious. Still, I believe that we repeat the behaviors and the scripts that were defined, refined, and passed down over decades. We don’t realize that we carry these shadows of our past, but still we carry the fingerprint.

I can only imagine how horrifying it must have been for all of my family to see the addict I became, being arrested and on the TV news, my Uncle Joe (my Aunt Theresa’s husband) coming to Philly to try and save me, my family bailing me out of jail repeatedly. My grandfather never saw me sober and I barely made it to the hospital to say good-bye. While in the hospital he was prescribed beer so as not to go into DTs. This was a case of the apple not falling far from the tree, except my grandfather functioned well his whole life, while my addiction progressed dramatically.

My father died one year before I found recovery, and I regret not being available for him as he was in such terrible pain from cancer. My insane life only added to his pain. However, I will always be grateful to my mother and father for raising my youngest daughter.

Please don’t misunderstand; there were many fun times with the family coming together; the men watching the Eagles football team and the Phillies baseball team. My uncles and grandfather marched in the Mummers Parade on New Year’s Day in Philadelphia. I remember fondly the drinking and laughing that went on, with the Mummers Parade being to Philadelphia what Mardi Gras is to New Orleans.

Growing up in North Camden, New Jersey, just across the bridge from Philly, I remember lots of get-togethers. My parents often had friends and neighbors over to play music. My father had a perfect ear and played piano, banjo, guitar, mandolin, and organ. The parties were loud and fun, filled with music and drinking and laughter. So there were plenty of wonderful gatherings and people enjoying life.

My mother and my aunt married at eighteen and quickly left the house where the energy in my grandparents’ home was often painful. My aunt struggled with depression and low self-esteem. Like me, her most often-spoken words were “I’m sorry.”

I’m certain that other family members experienced our family differently, but I felt the pain of being “less than,” and I believe my mother and aunt did as well. I think it’s time to do a more thorough emotional investigation of the generations of my family.

Layers of Trauma

In Utero Trauma

A growing body of research indicates that as babies in the womb we do feel, taste, learn, and have some level of consciousness. Author and obstetrician Christiane Northrup, MD, found that if a pregnant mother is experiencing high levels of fear or anxiety, she creates a “metabolic cascade.” In such a state the expectant mother produces a substance called cytokines that impacts the mother and child’s immune system. Chronic anxiety in an expectant mother can set a foundation for various trauma-based results such as prematurity, miscarriage, complications of birth, and death.

In utero trauma comes in many forms. When Momma has a difficult pregnancy, the baby is affected. If Momma is experiencing stress, sadness, pain, shame, anger, fear, depression, or anxiety, the baby is affected through shared brain chemistry, energy, and sensory stimuli.

If there is domestic violence, deprivation of nutrients, or substance abuse, the baby is affected. Imagine all of the possibilities! Traumatic events—the Holocaust, natural events such as tornadoes, hurricanes, flooding, and even car accidents—also affect the baby. Let’s say that in most cases, if it happens to Momma, baby experiences it at some level. In other words, trauma begins in the womb. Momma’s cortisol level increases with trauma reaction; now there is cortisol in the amniotic fluid, resulting in in utero trauma. Cortisol is released in response to stress. PTSD is a disorder of stress created by trauma.

On a positive note, providing music, reading to the baby in utero, physically rubbing the belly in a loving way, is also experienced by the baby, and baby recognizes Momma’s voice after birth. So baby experiences the positive, and resilience also begins here in the womb.

Research is beginning to prove what therapists have intuitively and anecdotally suspected; that during pregnancy everything the mother experiences is experienced by the baby—emotionally, physically, and through brain and body chemistry as well as attachment development. Research continues to grow around the issue of emotional trauma in the womb, looking at the state of the expectant mother to answer the question, “Can a baby learn while he or she is in the womb?”

To answer this question drives us to ask more questions. In his blog “World of Psychology” on Psych Central, in an article entitled “Emotional Trauma in the Womb,” Samuel Lopez De Victoria, PhD, poses some questions. What is the state of the expectant mother? Was she scared, detached, depressed, lonely, or resentful about her pregnancy? What impact does this have on a baby’s mental health and well-being?

Research currently being pursued suggests that perhaps some of the emotions we experience in this life may well have come from before your physical birth. Those who experienced fetal life traumas may feel sudden, acute feelings of anger, fear, sadness, loneliness, hypervigilance, and co-dependent enablement, and often describe that they’ve “always” felt this way (angry, shame, depressed, anxious) and don’t understand why.

Examples of Fetal Life Traumas

When my parents fell in love, my mother was eighteen, and my father twenty-eight and divorced. My parents ran away and Grandpop had my mother arrested and put in jail until they realized she was not a minor. I came along eleven months later. It hasn’t even been a decade since I realized that, in the eyes of the Catholic Church, I was born out of wedlock. I can only imagine what my mother went through by defying her family and her faith in those times—1945. Her brothers and sister married and raised their children in the Catholic faith with the blessing of my grandparents. My mother was excommunicated by the church. Shame, shame!

We were the “black sheep” of our extended family. I always felt that, whether it was said or not, I don’t know. But I can tell you I carried unexplained shame my whole life until I finally realized, with the help of a workshop partner, that I was my mother’s shame. And I was the black sheep of my family. My mother and I talked about this recently. She said she never felt that way, but I know that she was courageous at a time when that had to be very difficult. We talked about how much alike we were. I certainly didn’t believe that before; I never wanted to be anything like her. But with this new insight, I realized that she was a rebel, a risk taker, and a woman of her convictions. So much about who I am makes sense now. How much of her own life she gave up for us—her family—and how resentful she was sometimes when we “girls” were able to venture out into the world?

These experiences are not limited to the Catholic Church. Many faiths and many faithful experience shame and guilt for real or imagined sins, especially for children who are so impressionable and incorporate those feelings and experiences into the tapestry of their lives.

I speak all over the world and when I tell my mother’s story I’m often deluged by audience members who want to share a similar story. They’re asking for absolution or sharing their own healing process.

To confirm my mother’s experience, I recently spoke to my eighty-two-year-old aunt/godmother. She confirmed the cruelty of my grandmother toward my mother, the judgement and humiliation, the impotence of my grandfather in the face of her judgement. And as good daughters, my mother and aunt took care of my grandmother until she died. My grandmother was sixteen years old when she married and I’m certain her history, which I don’t know, created her anger, and her judgmental and critical nature.

I’ve been unraveling the mystery of my life for decades, the hurts and the glory, the soul wounds, and the gifts of a resilient spirit. Among many other things, I understand now why the opening sentence in the life story I wrote for my group in drug and alcohol rehab in 1987 was, “I’m pretty sure I was responsible for dropping the atomic bomb!” I guess you could say I carried a lot of shame and guilt as a child. I never could understand exactly what I had done that was so terrible; I just always felt filled with shame.

I’m the generation of the aftermath of World War II, the Cold War, “sex, drugs, and rock and roll,” Elvis Presley, the Beatles, first McDonald’s, the Mickey Mouse Club, Howdy Doody, and Roy Rogers. Black-and-white movies on TV created my vision of the world and the dreams for my place in it.

I am the child of air raid sirens, hiding in cloak rooms and under desks, bomb shelters, back alley abortions, and Vietnam and protest, segregation, integration, the sexual revolution, bra burning, women’s rights, and campus upheavals. I was the first in my family for so many things, caught between moving into a class above my own, or rebelling and creating chaos and change, revolution—and craving both.

Early Childhood Trauma

Author Pia Mellody focuses on codependency issues. She wrote in Facing Codependency:

When a person is unable to deal with traumatic events, he or she will often feel alone and struggle with recurring feelings of worry, fear, and worthlessness. Trauma sufferers often have difficulty in relationships and in dealing with emotional challenges, as well as low self-esteem due to the traumatic experience and feelings associated with the trauma. Trauma victims are haunted by memories that feel completely real and can cause the victims to become silent sufferers who believe that their lives are destined to repeat past events. Experiences in a person’s life can trigger a recurring experience of the original trauma, which makes healing from the original trauma an extremely important goal. Many trauma sufferers choose to deal with their feelings alone, instead of seeking appropriate professional treatment. These people may turn to substance abuse to dull the feelings associated with the trauma and the pain that comes with those feelings.

The deepest and most harmful of traumas is abandonment and neglect. The pervasive constant message is that an individual is not worthy of care and attention, that no one is really available or willing to care and nurture them.

So many children are lost emotionally and spiritually at the time when they most need care, not held, hugged, or celebrated; not applauded with kind and encouraging words, or given positive regard and encouragement. Who are these children in their adult form? At the core of trauma is the belief that your survival is at risk; at its deepest level being abandoned and/or neglected is life-threatening. Every infant instinctively knows they are dependent on the loving kindness of a caretaker.

Abandonment and neglect comes in many forms:

The list of scenarios that create the energy of neglect and of abandonment is long and endless. Children are fearful that they can never be as “successful” as their parents, fearful that they have no talent or life skills because everything is “done” for them. They are often “saved” from consequences, deprived of important opportunities to develop life skills as a result, deprived of finding a life’s purpose by loving, fearful parents who don’t want their children to struggle, when in fact struggle is a visceral learning experience. The message received is often, “I must do these things for you because I don’t believe you are capable.” It’s an enormous experience of deprivation, resulting in unhealthy egos.

We’re not talking about “just” malicious abandonment and neglect. We’re talking about unawareness, preoccupation, and an inability to recognize the human pain a child is experiencing but unable to verbalize. The inability to ask appropriate questions of children about their feelings, their pain, their joy, successes and failures. Many children and adults feel very alone.

When I ask folks to identify traumatic events in their life, abandonment and neglect seem the most harmful and pervasive. They set up a pattern of survival behaviors that make perfect sense when you unravel the trauma story. The overwhelming emotion that these folks experience is loneliness. I guarantee that if you look around in your social circle and you are mindful, you’ll recognize these folks. The greatest gift you can give them is kind and loving words, inclusion, and an awareness and recognition of the wounded child within. My clients overwhelmingly report the most important part of their healing was the constant love, compassion, care, and validation of the goodness and worth of their spirit, and that neither I nor my staff ever gave up on them, no matter what.

Caroline asked to share a few words left unspoken with light and love for her sister that I treated for trauma and addiction twenty years ago.

My Beautiful Sister

I remember those beautiful big brown eyes and curly locks of love

I remember your innocence, I remember your will to love.

I’ve known you from the day you were born—I’ve known you ever still

Though even only 22 months apart . . . I know your heart, I know your will.

For you see, I remember where it all began . . .

When you began to act and began to react . . .
then you thought you had a plan.

I watched you grow . . . I began to watch you use.
You thought it was cool, but it was never really you.

Just a little bit more, let me try something new . . . I know what I’m doing . . .

I don’t wanna use.

You struggled, you worked it, you used and abused.

We were left on the wayside . . . wondering and confused.

Forgive me my family I will make it right someday, but
for now I am embarrassed and very ashamed.

Years we waited . . . feeling her pain . . . Never stopped loving her . . .

Feeling our pain.

Somehow we knew her soul and her will was
stronger than the strongest pill.

Stronger than the next injection . . . Stronger than the next rejection.

She lived it. She owns it.

She makes no excuses

She found her will. She found her way

*

We are all very blessed. She is with us today.

This next story from an alumnus of ours, Roger, is difficult to read and may well put you off, but please take a deep breath and continue reading even if you find it disturbing. It portrays how intergenerational trauma can affect someone deeply, at many levels. Remember our mantra: behavior always makes sense when we unravel the trauma story. If we allow ourselves to be present and witness without judgment, trauma survivors can heal because they judge themselves more harshly than anyone else can.

Roger’s Story:
LAYERS OF TRAUMA

For the first two years of elementary school I was a very poor student. I then realized that my mother liked me to do well in school. I transformed myself into a good student. I would make good grades and she would be proud of me for a few days. Then the emotional atmosphere would go back to normal—cold, angry, and vacuous. This lead to my behavioral trait that all love is fleeting and must be earned.

I am a physician. I had touched two female patients in a sexually inappropriate way. My state board referred me for treatment in lieu of canning me. I didn’t like treatment, but I did tell the truth when asked. I trusted the process, but not any of those who were supposed to help me along the way. It seemed each therapist, psychologist, psychiatrist, and social worker delighted in watching my career slip through my fingers. The loss of my career was 100 percent my doing, but they didn’t have to enjoy it so much.

At one of the treatment facilities, I told them about my trauma history. At age three I approached my mother who would beat me with a belt until I dissociated. This happened until I didn’t want to be loved anymore. It required about twenty beatings. Many years later, Mother confirmed my memory after having denied it all and calling me crazy for fifteen years. Then her father orally or anally raped me repeatedly when I was three to six years old. Mother tried to get me to have sex with her until I was fourteen; at that time I requested she not return to my bed. There were numerous verbal insults. I was frequently told how I was stupid, ugly, and unlovable. It was a strange way to grow up if you think about it.

So, I was diagnosed with PTSD and referred to a treatment center in the forest where the pamphlet said, “Clients learn how to give and receive love.” I wanted my medical license back. You can keep your love to yourself.

I arrived and tried to fit in. There were about fifty clients, men and women. We lived four or five to a cabin on fifty acres of land adjacent to a national forest. There were bear, deer, red-tailed foxes, and opossums. We were in the middle of nowhere.

I told a few jokes. I was trying to be friendly. I will repeat one little joke that I told, no big deal. “Did you hear about the woman who went fishing with five men? She came back with a red snapper.” This joke, along with a few others, went over poorly.

There was more. Everybody at the treatment center created by Judy Crane has a trauma history. This would certainly apply to all the clients, but also most of the staff. People with a trauma history have a radar for danger—scanning the environment for what might hurt them next time. That included the body builder who had been sexually abused by a Catholic priest as a child. That included a woman in my trauma group that had been raped by her stepfather. That included everybody. And all the radars got focused on me.

The clients perceived me as a danger. They went daily to the director and asked (begged) that I get thrown out. A rumor had started that I was a psychiatrist who sexually abused his patients. I was seen as a problem. I was a perpetrator. The other clients were merely victims. People like me caused the problems in the world and I needed to leave.

The director, Judy Crane, asked to see me. I went to her office. She told me what everybody was saying. She asked me what it was like growing up in my family. I said I felt hated. And Judy said that I was recreating that dynamic in this community, recreating my trauma. She said I was going to change my ways or else leave. She feared for my safety. I didn’t even know what I could do differently. She said no jokes—ever. She asked if I had ever been diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. I said no. She said to learn to be socially appropriate and to respect people’s boundaries. As an example, she said not to ask people about the self-mutilation scars. I agreed.

Later that same day, we had a meeting with the entire campus: all the clients, all the staff (clinical, maintenance, kitchen, and housekeeping). I stood in the middle of the room. Each person asked me questions. I answered each person until they ran out of questions. I lied and said I had never sexually abused former clients. I told the truth about everything else. They were all satisfied that I wouldn’t harm them.

That one day changed everything. I realized the little things I say and do have a huge effect on people. I also realized I could change those behaviors. I realized that a blank affect and a sarcastic sense of humor wasn’t necessary to live in the world and that it drove people away. It was also a huge relief to tell Judy that I had grown up feeling hated and have her know exactly what that meant. She got it in a nanosecond.

After residential treatment, during our outpatient treatment, it was recommended that Roger take an acting “improv” (improvisation) class. It was a tremendously effective intervention and taught this doctor social skills and to use his sharp sense of humor with great success. I invite you to recognize the intergenerational trauma of sexual abuse and detached relationships.

You may have a negative reaction to us working so hard to keep this man in the community, however, most trauma survivors who have stepped over sexual boundaries have been victims at an early age, and can be salvaged and healed within the work of the community.

We indeed took a risk when we brought the community and staff together and let Roger tell his story. By hearing it, other clients were able to empathize and recognize that this man had been emotionally and socially shut down for most of his life. He was in survival mode. His willingness to answer questions and respond to clients who had been triggered by his poor jokes and behaviors also empowered those clients to share their discomfort—and to ask for what they needed from him in order to stay.

The community came together. There was no more scapegoating, and other clients realized that we would not give up on them either, that we would fight for their right to find trauma and addiction resolution.

Intergenerational Trauma

Here’s an example of healing history messages: at fifty years old, I finally realized that I was a beautiful, bright, talented, and gifted woman. My granddaughter, at eight years old, asked me what took me so long? From the mouths of babes! She already knows about and loves herself. She shares with me that she is Delaney, “the whole package, she is all that!” We are changing the faulty perceptions of this younger generation in our family. Even though my grandchildren have all experienced multiple trauma events, we have been able to love and support them, and talk about their pain and sadness as well as their joys and triumphs.

A Granddaughter’s Poem to Her Grandmother

She is the new dress at Macy’s

She is the middle of my heart

She is my smile

She is the drumbeat of Africa, the waves in California

She is the glue that holds me together

She is the bridge that helps me cross the lake

She is the bed I sleep in every night

She is the Beatles on my record player

She is the water in my cup

She is the bookmark in my book

She is my Yadda

*

This poem was written as part of a class assignment by my then eleven-year-old granddaughter, Delaney Rose. She is now sixteen and gobbling up every moment of her life. I find this trait in my grandchildren as they grow and mature and I am thrilled.

I was widowed at twenty-seven by addiction. Recently, my nieces visited me at my home. We spent time remembering those early years of my marriage to their beloved uncle, and the early childhood of my children. We laughed and cried as we unraveled the history and put more puzzle pieces together. It was healing for my grown children because they were very young when their father died and had many unanswered questions. Many secrets were revealed. It was beautiful, spiritual, cathartic, and led to more questions and more answers. And we experienced, truly experienced, each other in those moments.

*

THE MORE WE PROCESS AND RESOLVE
OUR PAIN “IN THE MOMENT,” THE MORE WE
CAN EXPERIENCE OUR LIFE IN THE PRESENT
AND NOT BE PRISONERS TO OUR
PAIN OR OUR PAST.

For years we avoided the pain, the sorrow, the sadness, the anger, and the grief. We’ve avoided life in all its fullness. We all experience traumatic events; life becomes richer when we give ourselves permission to experience all of the myriad human emotions in the moment, knowing that pain will pass. That we can cry and weep and wail with someone we trust, and we won’t die, and the tears will come to an end. This is what we do for our clients, and each other. We witness and provide a safe and loving sanctuary for the work as we support, encourage, and listen without judgment. We don’t have to have all the answers; we just have to be present.

When we can release pain and have resolution, life becomes juicier. Walking through fear is our challenge, and the challenge we give to our clients. We must give this same gift to ourselves and find our own healing. I have never, ever spoken to a group of clinicians that couldn’t benefit from more healing in their life. We must be willing to do everything we ask our clients to do. Life gets juicier!

I know the research is clear about the impact of life events of any type on in utero development. Those same life events impact the succeeding generations. However, research is just that: the culmination of a gathering of facts and figures to prove a truth.

I operate from an anecdotal perspective, which means we know what heals our clients, and the proof of the outcomes are anecdotal stories. So as you read these many stories of pain and suffering followed by outcomes which provide present-day evidence of life well-lived as a result of ongoing trauma resolution, you may have reason to be hopeful that your family can grow and change too.

When I’m with my grandchildren and can have the full effect of who they are, what they believe, how they feel, and how they operate in the world, I come away with a big smile on my face. As a family we’ve patiently (sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly), lovingly, in most cases with good intentions, attempted to create a healthy environment to shift the old, damaging dynamics of our family.

We can break the cycles that have kept our families hostage to our trauma history. Remember, we often don’t even know what we don’t know that has created a destructive pattern. I’m grateful that I’ve had to investigate my family history more thoroughly. We can change intergenerational patterns, Eugenie’s story illustrates.

Eugenie’s Story:
ENOUGH!

Enough! When my employer approached us about the trauma certification and training, I arrogantly thought I knew everything there was to know about dealing with trauma. After all, I was a qualified professional. I expected to walk into the course and pick up a few good techniques to add to my tool box.

Little did I know that I was not there to learn about “theory” but how to practice in a model that truly spoke to my spirit. The big surprise: experiential learning! The message: do your own work so you are clear once and for all what is yours and what the patient’s is. Again I thought, This will be fine, I’ll only share about XYZ. My protective mechanisms were in place so I could continue to project an image to the world that I am the “strong one” who handles “everything.” Yet God blessed me with an amazing opportunity to get vulnerable and release my shame.

I had been in therapy as a teenager to cope with betrayal I experienced from my father’s infidelity and the fact that my mother bravely put her foot down and made a decision to relocate from our hometown and follow through with divorce for our collective sanity. This was a ten-year struggle. We were a well-respected family in our community and the shame of my father’s dishonesty, constant cheating, and empty promises were painful to live with. I assumed the role as the “rock” and peacekeeper trying to have close relationships with both parents. This was complicated. In this process, I also became my father’s emotional caretaker and rescuer during his depression, and bore the brunt of his manipulation, blackmail, and numerous threats and attempts to end his life. I was hooked in a cycle of guilt that was crippling me. I feared setting boundaries “in case” he took his life. I have now accepted that “in case” is no longer my problem.

I became a mother blessed with the boldest ray of light that is my daughter. Becoming a parent changed me; it provided perspective on the true meaning of responsibility. As a parent, I am responsible for my daughter’s well-being; she is not responsible for mine. Things started to shift in my relationship with my father, and he took strain [got stressed out] because I was no longer mothering him. I started to distance myself from his chaos and pour energy into myself and bonding with my daughter.

Then came the trauma course. My father was on one of his downward spirals, providing threats and ultimatums. I just couldn’t carry him anymore. Judy got me to stand up to him and say “enough” and the relief that came with that permission to let go was astounding! I followed through with this and put down firm boundaries with my father, handing back the responsibility I had carried for many years. Thank you, Judy, for giving me the courage to do this.

I felt very strongly as a mother that I would not allow my daughter to be exposed to any form of instability. If my father could not commit to change and be there for her whole-heartedly, then I was not willing to put her at risk. I want to prevent the cycle from repeating itself. She has many people in her life who adore her and to whom she is positively attached. My father, sadly, is too wrapped up in his own narcissism and victimhood to change. While I will always love and pray for him to be restored to sanity and healing, I can’t have him involved in my daughter’s life. I realize that he, too, has his own trauma story that he’s reenacting, and I feel for him. His relationship with his father was very abusive and damaging. Unfortunately, he resists therapy and is not open to addressing his issues. We haven’t spoken in nearly a year. He hasn’t attempted to apologize or make amends.

My journey now is about focusing on my needs and having people in my life respond to those with genuine love and care. I’m grateful for my mother, an angel and a one-of-a-kind parent who is my constant support, and my sister, who has always weathered the storms with me. She is my greatest protector and has walked this difficult journey with me. They both encouraged me for years to do this and were so proud of me for putting down this boundary.

Since the trauma course and my regained sense of self, I live in clarity and light. The dark times now bring lessons to me without fear. I no longer feel guilty and I live with integrity.

Professionally, it has opened many doors for me in terms of how I work with patients: I empathize with their struggles to change and connect to them spiritually. As a therapist I’m not scripted. I don’t have magical powers; just my instinct, skills, and intuition that guide me. Being a mother has provided beautiful insight into the importance of attachment and how things can go wrong when that connection has not been formed. I offer this to my patients freely and go straight to the wound to provide a resolution. I’m not afraid of going there; I want to uncover what is hidden for ultimate healing to occur. Addicts have gaping wounds that they fill with harmful acts to themselves, abusing their body, mind, and spirit. To provide closure and prevent relapse, it’s vital that they do work on their trauma. This will sustain their recovery and make sense of what has left them lost for a long time.

One of the most common statements by family members and clients is, “My life was wonderful and perfect; there is no trauma or causes. There’s no reason for my despair, addiction, unhappy life, out-of-control behaviors, dysfunctional relationships, self-harming behaviors, low self-esteem, anger, anxiety . . . (fill in the blank).” And then we begin the story-telling process; usually stories from other group members that begin to awaken a sleeping tiger among the listeners. Clearly, when someone is recommended to see a therapist or go to treatment, there are signs and symptoms that are a red flag that someone needs help. Families report that their loved one is:

These reports all state that these are new behaviors for their loved ones.

The challenge is to not give a quick diagnosis, or to immediately medicate the signs and symptoms. The challenge is to recognize that the behaviors make sense when you understand the story, and that very often is a trauma story. Too many clients come to treatment with a long list of diagnoses and a suitcase of prescribed medications, often in conflict with other medications.

When asked to introduce themselves, these clients reel off a statement similar to this: “Hi, I’m Katie, I’m bipolar, borderline personality disorder with ADHD, I’m a cocaine and heroin addict with love addiction and self-harm.” How very sad that her diagnosis and addictions have become her identity! We quickly invite these clients to let go of those familiar labels and begin with just being a trauma survivor, as we slowly sort out the reality of the labels and slowly identify the correct, if any, medications.

So, what stories are most prevalent? They are stories of inadequate and unhealthy attachment leading to difficulty in developing healthy relationships, and the ability to survive and thrive in social environments. This lack of or inadequate attachment may be the result of circumstances that their parents can’t control, or by parents who are stuck in a generational cycle of unhealthy or inadequate attachment.

Another story line is neglect and abandonment where an individual’s needs were not met consistently. This pattern is a core arena for low self-esteem and can set up a vulnerability to victimization or, for many, enormous resilience. Again, parents are often themselves stuck in a generational pattern of neglect and abandonment. These stories don’t seem to be a big deal until you start outlining the layers of events that begin to weigh very heavily on a spirit.

Childhood and adolescent health issues loom large in explaining patterns of behaviors. Often, this is an arena for perceived abandonment and neglect, grief issues, loss of social engagement, and isolation. Behaviors associated with sexual abuse are often found in children with health issues because of physical intrusion, betrayal of the body, or strange adults in control of physical circumstances. Another scenario that explains the behaviors described is of course sexual abuse and rape. And so very often, those traumatic events have been kept secret.

Consider the following as I describe a “typical” trauma story. Born into a normal, middle-class family where both parents work, this child has a caretaker or begins daycare at three years old. The child’s parents divorce when he is seven; child later discovers there was an affair. Mom is really angry for a very long time. She dates several men but never remarries, and she works a lot. At age eight the boy discovers porn on Dad’s computer. It’s a comforting and exciting experience because he’s a lonely, latchkey kid. He has friends at school but is bullied by one big kid who terrifies him. He has no one to tell and no one notices anything because he does great in school. Around thirteen he begins to drink and smoke pot. He spends alternate weekends with Dad, but there is a new stepmom and other stepchildren. He’s bullied by the oldest but never tells anyone, and he continues to drink and smoke pot in high school. He has a few girlfriends; one cheats on him with his best friend. The teen gets in lots of fights and is eventually kicked out of school. Then he’s sent to a wilderness program for six months. He does well there, enters college, and starts to smoke just a little pot again. He has one girlfriend in college who gets pregnant. After she has an abortion, he feels terrified, sad, and guilty. He discovers it wasn’t his baby. He begins skipping class, drinking and drugging, watching lots of porn and masturbating. Introduced to OxyContin, he gets hooked. He steals to get drugs, gets arrested for possession, and drops out of college. His life is out of control. He seeks treatment, again.

The behaviors make sense. Is he an addict? Probably, but also in jeopardy of chronic relapse unless we address his attachment issues, grief, loss of the perfect family, betrayal by Dad’s affair, betrayal by girlfriends, bullying, and not being protected and cared for in the family system. We must also address his porn and masturbation issues which are intricately connected to all of the attachment, grief, and betrayal issues. And finally, this work must be done with the family in a thoughtful and sensitive way, without blame, and with everyone’s “perceptions” of the events honored and heard. The family behaviors all make sense, too, when you understand how trauma stories intertwine. And intertwine they do. The very best work assists the whole family in the healing process.

Trauma in the Shadow of Our Ancestors

Everyone has a story. There is a personal story, a family story, a mythology, and a historical story that is often a mystery. There are answers awaiting us in our untold ancestral story.

I think most people have a story that their family tells about them. For example, when Maria was two years old she loved spaghetti so much she even poured it over her head—we have the picture to prove it! Chances are Maria tells that story but doesn’t have a clear memory of the event, but it’s part of family history. And it’s shaped part of her vision of herself.

There are also the stories that shape us that we never hear, that are ephemeral and ghostly. For instance, what was my grandfather’s history that made him so shut down and taciturn? I would see glimpses of his humor, love, and loyalty. I would see times when he seemed to connect to my uncles, but far too often I would see a silent brooding man. I craved his attention and approval but too often the responses were negative or nonexistant. Did his pain, anger, sadness, drinking, and ghostly history affect who I am? Of course it did! I created my own story about my grandfather to explain the absence of real connection. What I do know is that my great grandmother, his mother, was born in Ireland and came to the United States where she married my grandfather’s father. He died when my grandfather was a small boy. They were Irish Catholic and raised in Philadelphia. With those few facts, I created a whole story to assuage my craving to understand the alcoholism in my family. I tried to understand why I felt so bad about myself when I was around him. Ancestry.com has proven that many of us crave the answers to “Who am I? What events created this person that I am, the people of my tribe?”

Recently I’ve had conversations with friends who are children and grandchildren of survivors of the Holocaust, World War II, Vietnam, survivors of the “troubles” in Ireland, the genocide of Native Americans and other indigenous people, the horror of the Bosnian war, the despair of the Middle Eastern refugees, apartheid, the Depression, and those who are children and grandchildren of sexual abuse survivors. They all shared that the mystery, to them, of the historical events—mysterious since the events were not discussed in the family—impacted their vision of themselves, as much as an overload of information impacted others. The answers of who we are, how we cope, personality traits, and continuing traumas are written in our history.

As clients begin to explore their intergenerational trauma, they discover patterns in their families that fill in the puzzle pieces: family history of war veterans who remain quiet and angry; multiple marriages the present generation was unaware of; and patterns of depression, suicides, or abuse, along with patterns of triumph and survival that help to make sense of present patterns and behaviors.

Historical Trauma

Intergenerational trauma and historical trauma are interwoven aspects of family trauma. Historical trauma refers to those large-scale, sweeping events that happen on a world stage. These events impact the core and makeup of not only various ethnic populations, but whole geographic areas. The intergenerational trauma that occurs as a result of ancestral events changes, challenges, and impacts succeeding generations often without their real knowledge or understanding. These are the “personal” stories in the midst of historical events.

I look to the men and women of my generation who experienced and lived throughVietnam, for example. We’re now in the third and fourth generations of families impacted by the horror, courage, anger, sadness, and silence of a generation of soldiers who didn’t receive the help they so needed and deserved. In the end, these soldiers coped as best they could. So often their families watched as they suffered in silence, depression, rage, addiction, and social isolation.

Children of these veterans suffered the same issues but without the war; the war was within their parents. Attachment issues and addictions are rampant in the generations that followed. These adult children often followed their parents into the military, looking for connection. The first real studies around PTSD occurred in the 1980s with Vietnam veterans. When we translate that symptomology, we see trauma elements in many more situations. That’s why so many people spend a great deal of their life “coping,” without understanding the what, why, or exactly whose trauma is impacting their behaviors.

As clinicians, we have the ability to redirect survivors to an understanding of their strengths, and help them move toward purposeful living. But that takes time and the ability to help put the puzzle pieces together for intergenerational healing.

Everything, every event of our life, no matter how insignificant or momentous, affects the way envision ourselves, which in turn affects the way we live our lives and what we believe about ourselves. Even more significant to the whole, is what are the history, beliefs, and messages of the generations before us? What do we offer the generations that follow us?

Epigenetics and Intergenerational Trauma

There’s a dramatic difference in the way researchers and most therapists see the world and the people of the world. For very good ethical reasons, researchers generally do their magic with mice and correlate that to the lives of people. Well, I’m very excited about the study of epigenetics and its impact on the understanding of intergenerational trauma, particularly its impact on behaviors and coping skills of succeeding generations.

In 2013, Dan Hurley, a scientific journalist, published “Grandma’s Experiences Leave a Mark on Your Genes” in Discover magazine. Hurley wrote with great simplicity and humor about the exciting research that describes what many therapists have recognized for years: “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” “like father, like son,” and “it’s all Mama’s fault!” The history of the proceeding generations often affects the present.

Hurley wrote, “The research indicates that changes occur in the DNA through methyl groups, which can be described as placeholders, attaching to each cell to select those genes necessary for those cell’s proteins . . . Methyl codes reside beside but separate from the double helix DNA code, the field was dubbed epigenetics, from the prefix epi (Greek for over, outer, above).”

This is all Greek to me, but what I do understand is that these folks have discovered that traumatic events change DNA and that impacts the generations that follow.

Two researchers from McGill University, Michael Meaney, a neurobiologist, and Moshe Szyf, a molecular biologist and geneticist, joined their efforts to ask the question, “Can child neglect, drug abuse, or other severe stresses cause epigenetic changes to the DNA inside the neurons of a person’s brain?”

Today this question is at the core of a new field, behavioral epigenetics, which is finding that traumatic experiences in our past, or in our recent ancestors’ past, can leave molecular scars that adhere to our DNA. In this way, the experiences of our ancestors and our own lives are always with us as we “inherit” behavioral and psychological tendencies from experiences passed long ago—some known and remembered, others unknown. The interesting bottom line is behavioral epigenetics explains our behaviors’ strengths as well as our weaknesses. Research continues on how epigenetic changes are impacted by maternal behaviors.

When I grew up with overwhelming shame and couldn’t identify “my shame,” it created an energy in how I viewed myself and my place in the world. What I now understand is that historical events in the lives of my great-grandparents, grandparents, and parents affected my DNA: the epigenetics of who I am. What happened to my mother and what she felt while I was in the womb affected who I became.

World events such as war, the potato famine, the Holocaust, apartheid, and so many more traumatic events affect the DNA and behaviors, changing the course of the lives of children born into families who survive trauma. That’s why it is vital for us as clinicians to gather as much anecdotal history as possible, to assist trauma survivors to understand how generational trauma has impacted their lives. When we unravel the trauma story, we impact in a positive way the epigenetic makeup of our children and grandchildren. In treatment, I see that begin with families that work so hard to change the direction of their trauma story. Many of my most successful clients who struggled with attachment and relationships but found healing and purpose in their trauma stories are now having children. They’ve changed the attachment story to one about a healthy, nurturing relationship. They are now providing to the next generation the relationship they needed as children.

Epigenetics is exciting to me because it’s proof that the story can be changed, that nature and nurture can synergistically change the direction of our very traumatic world environment. The healing of one individual can create healing for a whole family, and then a whole tribe, and so on.

A Tree of Life

Making a family tree is an assignment that has long been used in addiction treatment—to determine various addictions, co-dependency, and family traits of the addict. You know: hero child, mascot, scapegoat, co-dependent, comedian, parentified child, plumber. I made up the plumber role, but in my house that was an important skill to have, given that my father was a plumber and often left at least one part of the job undone or incomplete in our house. As it turns out, family trees are incredibly important to understand the width and breadth of intergenerational trauma.

In 2007, Peter A. Levine, Maggie Kline, and Merida Blanco conducted a study that resulted in tracing a five-generation account of the effects of violence on subsequent generations in South America that could be mapped onto the history of indigenous Australia. Their discussion on intergenerational transmission of trauma accounts for the breakdown of functional society over generations as follows:

First Generation: Conquered males were killed, imprisoned, enslaved, or in some manner deprived of their ability to care for their families.

Second Generation: Many men overused alcohol and/or drugs, resulting in loss of cultural identity and diminished self-worth. Various cultures dealt with this substance-use issue in different ways, including incarceration or confinement to the reservation, giving no support or treatment.

Third Generation: Increase in spousal abuse, domestic violence, and the breakdown of the family unit.

Fourth Generation: Trauma begins to be reenacted and directed at the spouse and child; signifying a serious challenge to the family unit and societal norms.

Fifth Generation: The cycle of violence is repeated and compounded, as trauma begets violence through increasingly severe violence and increasing societal distress.

If you consider their findings, I think you’ll be able to see how this can be extrapolated to Native Americans and indigenous people everywhere. Also, given any historical trauma, how we could extra-
polate behaviors. Consider the possibilities with children of the Depression and generations of soldiers and their families, and sexual abuse survivors, over the generations. Looking at my family tree, my father grew up extremely poor during the Depression. He was in a family of twelve children, who often went without food, and only six of his siblings lived to adulthood. My father-in-law grew up during the Depression as well, the only child of a single momma, an immigrant from Italy. The difference in the “money messages” and behaviors were extreme.

My father-in-law had an intense work ethic and saved everything. In the basement were #10 vegetable cans filled with buttons, nails, screws, safety pins, aluminum foil, etc. He saved everything, just in case. He and my mother-in-law had life and health insurance on everyone, just in case there was another financial disaster. My father’s attitude was different in that he had a strong work ethic, but sometimes just “took off.” It was very difficult for him to have a boss. He almost always worked for himself as a plumber. When he had a big payday, he’d celebrate and spend frivolously on the family. “Just in case” there was another financial disaster, he wanted us to at least experience abundance, even if it was fleeting. Our financial life was insecure: very good or very bad, never “just right.”

I was the oldest child and had enormous shame about our poverty. I hated being dependent on anyone, and worked from the time I was eleven years old. I was the first in my family to do many things, including going to college and making sure all my children graduated from college with professional careers. I’m a dreamer—and I dream big. And I’m blessed that our intergenerational trauma, including addiction, has been interrupted. My in-laws were secretly secure, protecting the family but always “crying poor.”

As my mother-in-law used to tell me, that’s “family business.”

The issues are never about money; they’re about fear, insecurity, shame and guilt, grief and loss, and low self-esteem. Let’s look at Alex’s (a past client) family tree by starting with his story.

Alex’s Story:
A FAMILY TREE OF TRAUMA

Screaming until he’s hoarse, raging, profanity, and threats. His face is red and blotchy, his eyes bulging. Twenty-seven years old and out of control, literally out of control. Exactly as he was at seven years old, being held down by five boys and beaten every day, and then one by one they molested him over and over almost every day for weeks. His whole stay at camp, despite hysterical calls to his parents who were used to his “spoiled brat” behaviors and thought this was more of the same. He never told the secret; the boys had threatened to tell everyone he liked it, that he was gay. If he told, they would kill him. To a seven-year-old boy, that is a real threat that his seven-year-old mind and body never forgot. The body remembers everything: the smells, the sounds, the taste, the touch, and the threats . . . and so much more. The body remembers! He’d make calls to his father who yelled back, “Just stop being a sissy boy. You’re so worthless, why do I waste my money on such a stupid boy? I wish you hadn’t been born.” Those brutal messages from the people who love you are deadly to our psyche, even when they are said in frustration and anger—perhaps more so. Behaviors and choices always make sense if we understand the history and generational history, and the verbal and intuitive messages the child received, positive or negative.

For most folks, being on the receiving end of this raging behavior makes us turn and walk away, or otherwise choose not to engage. This is exactly what happens to Alex most of the time. He’s extremely intelligent, well spoken, a good-looking “geek,” with no social skills or ability to see outside himself. He does not have any empathy, or the ability to soothe himself. He loathes himself. Why wouldn’t he? That’s his experience of the world. The world loathes him, and he uses arrogance to cover that up, and to keep the pain away. “You will not hurt me again. I am smarter, richer, and I can cause you pain. Watch!”

And he does. Alex is clever. He sets peers up to do what he suggests and then becomes a tattletale to the authorities: “See what they’ve done? When will you punish them?”

Makes sense to me. No one believed him, protected him, or punished the perpetrators, so he does that symbolically to others and “reports” them, hoping for redemption. Is he cognitively aware of that? No, only after extensive treatment and it becomes one more piece of the puzzle.

The only relief he feels is when he uses alcohol and drugs, or is “stirring the pot” and creating chaos. Oh yes, and he feels relief when a girl likes him, and then she becomes his drug.

To understand how we got to today, to this moment, we have to understand the family history. Granddad Emile came to the U.S. from Germany as a nine-year-old on a ship by himself, with the equivalent of twenty dollars. He was met at the docks by a cousin who let him sleep on the floor in a corner of the kitchen. He went to work at a factory where they made women’s dresses. That nine-year-old grew to live the American dream, going from there to owning his own small clothing factory. What it took for Granddad to get there was a desire to move out of poverty and “become” someone. It said so on the statue in the harbor: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” He believed and made it happen. He made it happen and that focus, courage, and single-minded drive also created a stoic, silent, hard, angry man. His anger and discipline was heaped on his wife and children, especially his son. They were steeped in the pride of their work and accomplishments but did not communicate, share intimacy, or tell secrets. You see, as a boy in his cousin’s home, he was molested regularly by his older, bigger cousin. To escape, he needed to work hard and to hide money, and he did. He was told he would be killed if he told. Sound like a made-for-TV movie? I hear stories like this all the time, often from your grown children or you. So Granddad raised his children with anger, secrets, harsh discipline, an intense work ethic, and very little love, affection, or time. He worked all the time. Pride. He also raised his family to have pride, almost an arrogance at what they’d overcome. He should be proud but everything has extremes and this was a family of extremes. They yelled instead of talking, berating and criticizing in the name of love.

This isn’t rocket science, so what comes next? Alex’s father, Henry, is a hard-working, absent, angry, stoic, demanding man. He shows love through hard work and money but is unable to share any positive affirmations for his children. He didn’t receive it, although he certainly craved love with his whole being. How would he know how to give those warm, loving words that every human needs? He’d been demeaned and discounted by his father, that poor boy Emile who raised himself and dealt with his feelings of fear and pain with more work, more money, more anger, very little joy, and certainly no parental love and affection. His parents had loved him enough to send him to America. His mother had given him love, affection and kindness, and then at nine he was left to fend for himself. But it was that early attachment that made it possible for him to survive.

One of our clients, Karen, was an absolute warrior as she struggled with her childhood trauma and courageously battled breast cancer. She painted through her trauma recovery, diagnosis, and surgery. The first three paintings were done while she was in treatment and had started having body memories of childhood sexual abuse. Two vision boards were created while she was in treatment with our team; the last two are after breast cancer.

Karen’s Story:
HEALING THROUGH PAINTING

When I arrived at Judy’s treatment center in 2011, I had been to treatment approximately eighteen times in sixteen years. I had a harrowing IV heroin, cocaine, and methadone addiction, and was smoking crack when I went to chemical dependency treatment for the last time in 2008. My therapist suggested that I go to treatment to address my ongoing struggles with sex addiction, an eating disorder, bipolar disorder, self-harm, and suicidal ideation. When I arrived there, I wasn’t aware that I had experienced any trauma. As I came to learn the definition of trauma, and began thinking back through my adult life, it became clear that I had actually survived a great deal of it.

As other clients began recounting their stories of childhood sexual abuse, I often had profound physical and emotional reactions, but the memories had not yet begun to emerge. The therapists helped me to become aware that I often dissociated, began experiencing age regression, and frequently held my breath. They were extremely supportive, but encouraged me to just let things unfold naturally, and not to jump to any conclusions. Instead, it was suggested that I explore the feelings I was having. I choose the medium of art because I didn’t have images or any kind of a narrative to go along with the intense feelings I was experiencing, but I felt that I could represent them in paintings. It also helped me to feel more empowered. I had always loved art as a child, but had stopped expressing myself that way by the age of twelve. The collages and collage paintings were created very intuitively. I find it fascinating that the memories that have recently begun emerging mesh with the symbolism in the artwork. At the time I created them, I wasn’t even consciously aware of the meaning of many of the symbols I chose. This synchronicity has served to reinforce my interest in Carl Jung and depth psychology.

The first collage painting is titled The Truth of Persephone. The narcissus, in the upper right-hand corner, is the beautiful flower that Persephone beheld, and, once plucked, the earth opened up and she was abducted and whisked away to the Underworld by Hades to become his bride. In many accounts of the myth, it’s implied that Persephone was raped by Hades, and in some, that her father actually consented to allow Hades to do this. The pomegranate, in the upper left-hand corner, is the fruit that was given to her by Hades that stained her lips. It let her mother Demeter, and the rest of the world know, that she had tasted the fruit of knowledge and experience and was forever changed. She was no longer an innocent maiden, and so it was acknowledged that for the second half of every year, she would resume her position as Queen of the Underworld, where she served as a guide to enable lost souls to find their way home.

The spring and summer months would be spent above ground on Earth and in the heavens with Demeter, who was so distraught from the loss of her daughter that she had neglected her duties, and thus, the Earth had become barren. The spilt wine flowing from the glasses also represents blood, and the serpents at the foot of the throne have multiple meanings. I drew each piece by hand on poster board, and then cut it out, painted it, and glued it to the canvas. To me, even the painstaking process of creating these collages mirrors my own journey to discover the truth.

The second collage painting is titled “The Wages of Sin.” It represents the story of Adam and Eve, and once again, tasting the bittersweet fruit of knowledge and experience. The apple at the center is meant to be shaped like a heart, and the bite is intended to be shaped like an aspect of feminine anatomy. I used the narcissus again; this time to represent healthy self-love.

The painting “Hearts of Darkness” was created with a background of my own blood. I literally felt the need to bleed my pain onto the canvas. The symbolic meaning of the owl, the blood, the shattered mirror, and even the story “Heart of Darkness” presaged my own journey into recovering from childhood sexual abuse. I did not know at the time that the shattered mirror with my reflection represented fragmented identity, something I would come to painfully experience.

The three remaining collages were all created in the spirit of the eternal hope for healing that resides deep within me. Judy and my therapist served to kindle this spark of hope into a burning desire to continue to persevere, heal, and uncover my truth. For that, I am so grateful because I was diagnosed with stage three breast and neuroendocrine cancer a year after my first stay there.

The collages with the women and the word “God” in the center were completed after I discovered I had cancer and had a full mastectomy at the age of forty-two. I placed “God” near images of strong women because I knew that I ultimately had to find the divine within my own heart, and I did. It was important for me, as a single woman, to reinforce the idea that I was still sexy and desirable after losing my left breast. These vision boards have continued to serve as a source of hope and inspiration. I look at them whenever I need to renew my determination to continue to fight, not just to live, but to live well.

Reflective Sketches

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1) Interview family members, going back as far as you can, and put together a history of any trauma that occurred in their lives. See if there was depression, violence, wars, emotionally unavailable people, workaholics, unwanted pregnancy. How did this affect the family and the generations?

2) What do you know about your family tree?

3) Make a list of your caregivers: parents, nannies, babysitters, etc.

4) Identify five to six adjectives, both positive and negative, for your caregivers.

5) List your siblings in order and give adjectives for them. Then identify your role in the family.

6) Identify parental and maternal grandparents and do the same thing.

7) If there is addiction, mental health, or behavioral issues that you are aware in any of your family please highlight those.

8) If you are aware of trauma events, list those.

9) Were any of your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, or other relatives combat veterans, Holocaust survivors, or survivors of any other trauma event such as depression or natural disasters, adoption, divorce, multiple marriages, or other patterns in your family? This may be an overwhelming task, so if you find yourself in that place stop and take a breath, and then take another deep breath. Go back to The Trauma Heart and fill your spirit with the triumph of those who are much the same as you are.

10) What insights do you have as a result of this exercise?