Who Would We Be Without Our Trauma?
*Disclaimer: This is written from the POV of someone who’s a decade away from their grief/trauma. I don’t believe that someone who is fresh in their grief will agree with this mindset, and this POV may be upsetting for them. I write this for other people who experienced their grief/trauma years ago.
When we lose a precious soul, particularly one of a “young” age, we always wonder who would this person be today, had they still been alive? Who would they have become? What would they be doing with their life now? What memories could we have been creating with them right this second? Digging into a bottomless well of painful questions about all the possibilities of a lost life tug at you day and night, almost punishing you for your inability to envision something that you have no way of knowing.
After some years following my brother’s death, I finally came to the realization that these endless questions served me no purpose. There is nothing gained in me wondering who he’d have been. The imagining and fantasizing only hurt me more. All we have is who they were — who they are — and that is enough. We are not meant to know who they could’ve been, for that only takes away from cherishing who they were.
As I’ve had time (read: alot of time) to process the boomeranging stages of grief and move past these questions, I was then left with a new bottomless pit of questions: who would I be had he not died? What would I be like had I not experienced this loss? What would I be doing with my life? What memories could I have been creating right now instead?
I will never know what person I would have been had I not experienced this sudden loss, and that is another grief in itself. Just like our lost loved one, the person we once were no longer exists. My future path that originally existed evaporated into thin air that day in June. Whatever plans of the person I could have been were no more. I instead was forced to walk a different life path as a totally different person. And over the years I had to slowly introduce and make friends with this new person.
Everyone who has experienced a monumental loss or a trauma of any sort can’t help but wonder how their life would have been different without it. It impacts every area of your life, so of course life wouldn’t be the same. We wonder what we could have accomplished had a new way of life not been demanded from us. Things undoubtedly would’ve been easier for us. So who would we be had we not been chained to this new life and forced to struggle in these shackles? It’s just as difficult to fathom the person that we could’ve been as it is to imagine the person that our loved one could’ve been.
I wonder about the ways that my personality has been affected by this traumatic loss. I wonder if I would still be an anxious person. I probably wouldn’t be an over-thinker or a “worst case scenario” person had it not happened. I had already been blindsided and dealt the worst case scenario that day he died so suddenly, so why could it not happen again at any time? Life definitely would have been different without these complexities to myself, scared of so many things, so what could I have accomplished had they not strapped me down?
But would I be as empathetic and kind to others had I not experienced first-hand the truth of the quiet battles that lie behind the door of almost every person we meet? Would I be louder, more open and friendly around people, not hidden behind the invisible mask of shame and insecurity that my trauma and grief bestowed upon me? Shyness was always in me, but I think my trauma and grief magnified that. I couldn’t be lively and carefree when I had this heavy weight on my shoulders every day, dragged with me wherever I went.
I imagine that I’d still be immature, never having had to grow up so quick as trauma forces you to do. I joke that I feel like a fifty-year old, and I often relate better to middle-aged people than those my own age, because I lived a lot of life in a few short years.
And I’m sure I would have different hobbies, as I wouldn’t have had to devote my time to drudging through my complex personal world. I spent all my time grieving, and then digging deep into my consciousness, exploring all the feelings that came along with the trauma, as it permeated every aspect of my life. I was forced to spend my days and nights for years deconstructing my mind and then, years later, attempting to rebuild. What could I have done with all of that time instead? I definitely would have done better in school, gotten better grades, been more interested in my studies. I wouldn’t have missed classes, truancy hanging on by a thread, because I couldn’t find the will to get out of my bed. I would’ve been able to hold down scholarships and get internships. These stepping stones could have led to better jobs, a better future. But these kind of things take a back burner when your little energy each day is spent just trying to get yourself through even the simplest of tasks.
It’s weird to think that I could have had all different friends. That I may have never encountered or connected to the friends that I now couldn’t imagine my life without. I wouldn’t have gravitated to others who have the same tendencies or experiences as I, or to the people who quietly understood that being my friend often meant having to cradle the broken parts of me. And of course I lost some friends, so would those flighty people still be in my life had he not died? Or would they have eventually left anyway? There are so many possibilities on the directions my life could have gone, just as there are so many possibilities the directions my brother’s life could have gone if he had been gifted with a full life.
Having heavy grief dumped on me at such a transformative age, I had just barely started down that transitional path in your teens when you lose your naivety and innocence and suddenly realize there’s a scary real world out there. I was just arriving at that point where I was coming to understand the true dangers of humanity, shedding the rose-colored glasses of my childhood. But those glasses were stomped on and shattered when I said goodnight to my brother that evening, only to awake to never being able to speak to him again. This trauma forced me to uncover a whole dark world I had not known about, and left my young self helplessly grappling with all the effects on my still-forming mind.
I imagine if I had encountered this grief when I was older, a more centered and matured adult, I wouldn’t have been affected quite the same. Adults are still left with just as much an insurmountable amount of grief, confusion, anger, and sadness, and grief gives it’s own shake-ups to their life path. But I believe that had I been a little older with a greater sense of self and the world around me, the shock of the trauma wouldn’t have had as severe an effect on me and altered my path so much. As an adult, you likely have already experienced something difficult, and if not, you’ve developed the empathy towards it after seeing people close to you experience it. I know that I would have come to realize the harsh facts of this world anyway without this tragedy, yes something else would have occurred at some point and taught me, perhaps in smaller bits and in less effective ways. But my introduction to grief was a front row seat to the largest explosion that the real world could possibly show me. No doubt this affected my growth and path in life.
I actually don’t quite remember the person I was before the loss. Or even in the first few years that followed, when I was lost deep in a black hole yet to pull myself out. People share memories and mention things I did, and I respond back with a series of intrigued questions like I’m hearing the story for the first time as a complete outsider. I’ve heard this is a common symptom of trauma, that our brains literally can’t record memories when in such state of distress. Beyond my subconscious blockage, along with hazy memories from my escapism, there is a whole chunk of my life lost. When my life was flipped upside down that day, I flipped along with it. Though the shell is the same, I am a very different person inside. And I can say with full confidence that everything I am right now is because of the grief that I went through.
And I know the journey is all for a better me and a better world. After hard years on a winding path of confusion, anger, and self-destruction, I am now proud of the girl that has endured this trauma. The mask of shame and insecurity from my grief and trauma has fallen. It’s impossible that I could have been this knowledgable, brave, and strong, had I not gone down this path. The life I was forced to live has taught me so much and made me wise. And there is no way I would’ve been as empathetic and sensitive without experiencing what I did, teaching me firsthand the pains that many others on this earth also go through. I am proud that I am able to help friends through their own struggles with what I’ve learned, from self-esteem and introspection to strength and coping techniques. And I hope I can help others too. It took me many long years to reach this place of pride and knowing, and while I wish it didn’t take this long, I am now stronger, smarter, more caring, more balanced, more attuned. Though I wouldn’t wish this path on anyone, it has made me a better friend, daughter, stranger, human. Without this loss, would I have been able to say the same?
