And when the explosion of anger takes place, many of us make it the other person’s fault. They unwittingly touch our wound, and we get pissed off at them.
The truth is that a lot of men dismiss small-t traumas as something they should “just get over.” In some cases we’ve heard it, and may even continue to hear it from our loved ones and, for those of us in twelve-step recovery, our peers and sponsors. A common message in recovery is “You just need to work the steps harder.” Know this: However small it (the traumatic issue) may seem, it is important. It does matter. It is not just a small thing. And struggling with it does not make you less of a man. The steps may very well be part of the solution, but that doesn’t mean they are the sole solution.
What is important for you to understand is that if the issue causes you discomfort, then it is real. If it is something you have been struggling with for some time, it is not likely that you will be able to simply “get over it”; otherwise you would have done so by now. Sadly, the voices telling us we are not working hard enough in our recovery or that we are doing something wrong only reinforce the shame we feel about whatever is causing us such distress. The real healing starts by talking about it, and that means having people in your life whom you trust, people you know will not laugh at you or judge you no matter how foolish, weak, or ashamed you feel about the issue. Mike said, “I have found it important to put some time and distance between me and the traumatic event. To back away, breathe, and just feel. Then I need to connect with one of my go-to guys and hear myself talk about the experience, to gain perspective, and to feel safe. After that I’m in a better position to deal with whatever is necessary.” That is an excellent approach to follow whenever issues connected to past trauma come up and cause you discomfort and distress.
I started sponsoring a man named Joe who had seven years in recovery. He knew my passion for helping men move into an area of what we call “emotional recovery.” I ask the hard questions and create as safe a space as I can for the man to talk. And I listen. I hear him. And I am not restricted by the Twelve Steps or the philosophy and literature of the various fellowships. As much as I love that part of recovery, I also firmly believe in seeking “outside help,” as advocated in the book Alcoholics Anonymous: “God has abundantly supplied this world with fine doctors, psychologists, and practitioners of various kinds. Do not hesitate to take your health problems to such persons.” This fact is often overlooked by some twelve-step fundamentalists.
Joe mentioned to me that he hadn’t slept in his own bed, or even in his own house, for almost two years. He was spending a lot of time sleeping at the homes of friends. He came up with good excuses for doing this. What really impressed me was that he had some close friends whom he felt safe enough to open up to and they, in return, had opened their homes to him. I did not suggest that he work a step about his lack of faith or do a fear inventory from the Fourth Step, or suggest that this was due to some defect of character. Grown men with seven years of recovery don’t fear sleeping in their bed because there is something wrong with their recovery. They do it because of trauma.
Joe started seeing an experienced trauma therapist specializing in EMDR. He began to see that his difficulties started after his parents divorced (again) and worsened after he broke up with a girlfriend. Importantly, rather than engaging in an extensive regimen of talk therapy sessions, Joe learned a technique known as Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT). EFT is a process of tapping on key acupressure points, breathing, and doing positive repetitive self-talk. Joe began to see how shame and anxiety from these past experiences affected his ability to sleep peacefully in his bed. He also started slowly challenging himself to do things differently. But equally important, through EMDR and EFT Joe was able to rewire his brain and adjust the faulty connections created as a result of small-t traumas he experienced as a child that had been triggered in adulthood.
The brain plays a central role in the processing of traumatic experiences. Trauma has a profound impact on our brain and our body. The triune brain—a model proposed by the American physician and neuroscientist Paul D. MacLean and endorsed widely by trauma experts—includes the primitive or reptilian part of our brain, the limbic system, and the neocortex. When it comes to understanding and healing from trauma, the limbic system and the neocortex are critical. From an evolutionary perspective, the reptilian part of our brain is the oldest and most basic part of our brain. It is the part that we have in common with many animals and controls our most basic functions. The limbic system is the seat of all of our emotions and is also where the “fight-or-flight” response lives. The neocortex is the command center of the brain and what separates us from all other animals. The neocortex is what gives humans the abilities for abstract thinking, moral reasoning, delay of gratification, speech, and the capacity to process past experiences to use what we have learned to inform our decisions in the present.
The relationship between the limbic system and the neocortex has profound importance. As Jamie Marich explains, “for a person with unprocessed trauma symptoms, the three regions of the brain are not optimally communicating with each other. Indeed, during periods of intense emotional disturbance, a human being cannot optimally access the functions of the neocortex because the limbic, or emotional brain, is in control.” The limbic system is activated during traumatic experiences to help the person survive via fight, flight, or freeze. Resolving trauma involves creating new neural pathways reestablishing the linkage between the limbic system and the neocortex. Only then does a person regain the ability to process traumatic events, make sense of them and the emotions with which they are connected, and place them in the appropriate context where they can be understood and integrated into the person’s overall experience.
I lived in my limbic system for most of my recovery. The slightest event would trigger an emotional reaction, and BAM! I was in fight-or-flight mode—mostly fight, because again, as men we are trained to ignore the fear, and fight. Moreover, flight or running away is unmanly and violates the Rules. This neural connection was built and then reinforced over years and even decades of emotional instability and repeated triggering/activation. Over and over again many misperceived cues and triggers had me jumping right into my limbic system, and then I was being driven by my emotions and my shame—a toxic combination.
There are a lot of people in the rooms of recovery with untreated trauma, some of which even rises to the level of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The problem for decades, particularly for men, has been our tendency to focus on the diagnosis of PTSD, which is on the far end of the continuum of trauma. As a result, we have missed a lot of male trauma. Trauma occurs when, after a traumatic experience (or experiences), people become and remain stuck operating out of their limbic system. The impact on one’s life becomes significant enough that it has serious impact on our ability to engage in everyday activities and live a productive life.
As Lily Burana, a woman who has written with courage, humor, and vulnerability about her experiences, describes it, “The overload of stress makes your panic button touchier than most people’s, so certain things trigger a stress reaction—or more candidly—an overreaction. Sometimes, the panic button gets stuck altogether and you’re in a state of constant alert, buzzing and twitchy and aggressive. You can tell yourself, ‘it’s okay,’ but your wily brain is already ten steps ahead of the game, registering danger and sounding the alarm. The long-range result is that the peace of mind you deserve in the present is held hostage by the terror of your past.”
Can’t you just hear the pain in that description? Can you feel it in your body? What does trauma feel like to you? Not just in your brain, but what does it feel like in your body? Can you notice the physical cues when you are getting ready to go “off-line”? Literally, that is what is happening. It may feel like a super-quick shutdown, but there is a complex process happening, and the more you can learn to notice it, know what your triggers are, be in your body, do conscious breathing, and use other tools, the more you can slow the process down and even interrupt it.
Here’s a specific example of this for me: For the first seventeen years of my recovery I used to be on the verge of panic attacks when I went into any public restroom by myself.
