Is there someone in the great wide world who, at some point in life, did not suffer trauma? In reality we live in, hardly. This is an intimate introspect about traumatic events and the long road of healing. Thoughts on a sensitive subject put together for the purpose of sharing the load. The ups and downs, struggles, confessions. Personal approach to trauma and professional encounters on terrain.
I will begin with some of mine. Traumatic events are part of our lives, building us for good and bad, human beings of flesh and blood under the often silky skin of ours, under branded clothes and shiny, marble makeup. This is a deep insight in personal traumas I’ve encountered during my life, the ones which shaped me, ones which pushed me down to abyssal depths in my days of youth, then taught me of life’s hardships and built me into a person I am today, the one who can walk for miles, no matter the hardship. Maybe someone finds her or himself in these words and may they bring comfort and recognition that we are never abandoned, no matter how alone we sometimes feel.
The War Trauma
Croatia during the War of Independence, the notorious 90’s and the aftermath. Trauma creeping behind every corner, lustfully searching for the victim. No one was imune, man, woman and child. I remember the first time a voice was raised in my home. My father came back from the war and took the drink. My hero, who was stronger than all the bad guys who tried to claim his life and our homeland. He came drunk and the fight started with my mother.
The whole world came crashing down, inward and out. And that was just a start. Alcohol abuse goes way back in my family. In our society in general. Many a good man and woman bedevilled and destroyed by the booze. Domestic violence on top of the war, a struggle of a small child. A fallen hero and life after. I was just six and barely out of the most delicate period of development when the war started. My little brother was not that fortunate.
Where Does It Come From?
Often I wonder where did the insatiable need to help another human being in distress came from in my character and why did I dedicate a large part of my life to mountain rescue and volunteer work. I believe the roots of the Call can be found in trauma. Being very honest with myself has helped me and got me a long way in the, I believe, never ending process of healing. Honesty. Humility. Self-discipline. And we have a very nice word which I cannot fully translate in English, ‘umjerenost’ meaning temperance, moderation and restraint all together. That were and are the tools, the gems in healing every trauma I have encountered on my way. And there were some.
I must say I am no expert on trauma, I’ve not a single medical degree and this small article of mine is based on the very inspiration to write a couple o words from my own personal perspective as a human being and encounters in the mountains. This is a very delicate subject and I would be very glad if people share their experience and opinion, especially if I am wrong on some point, that would help all of us.
Neglect of Trauma
Neglect was perhaps the most notorious nemesis I’ve encountered when dealing with trauma, my own and else’s. Hiding it under the table and allowing it to fester for days, months, years, decades. Until it is incurable, until one has passed all boundaries and limits and is no longer capable to deal with it on her/his own. That is how I’ve lost a best friend when, among other reasons, he took his life. During these long and beautiful dance of goodness and hardship I’ve felt it almost all, either on my own skin or as a witness in life or on duty. Child abuse. Domestic violence. Drugs. Alcohol. War. Pandemic. Earthquake. Severe injury. Death. Harassment. Accident. Flood. Murder. Impressive cohort of riders of the apocalypse.
In the end, you can not make it go away. I’m almost positive you can not forget it, if I am wrong, I stand corrected. In the end, it either builds you up or destroys you to such extent you can’t even recognise yourself in the mirror. If I have to conclude with a sentence that would be the strongest in the process of healing of trauma, it would be this one. Bear it. It’s that simple. Bear it as a burden that bends your back but can not break it. It is a very long way home more often than not but bear it we have to.
You Are Not Alone
Realisation that you are not alone even if you sometimes feel alone. At this very moment, at every moment in our life there are millions facing the same trauma we are facing or faced and we all share the burden. Returning to the beginning of the thought. In a real world we live in, surrounded by real people, we all feel the impact of trauma. That is our strength. Feeling it in our own unique way, for not two persons in the world are the same, that is the hard part. But there is a simple remedy.
Share it. Share it with a friend. A relative. An expert. A complete stranger on a street on any given day. Trauma within us. Recognised. Shared. It looses the strength. It looses the grip it has on you. Some of them you will become free from on your way. Some of them will stick with you. In yourself lies the strength to deal with most terrible things this world has seen. You have that strength. You have the tools. We, as a society, have come a long way.
There are so many wonderful people, experts who dedicated their lives to the healing of trauma. There are people who care about us, who love us, who will give everything they have to see us standing on our two feet and looking at life with eager, bring it on, face. So go ahead, take your best shot at me. You can bring me down, you can turn me, flip me, toss me. You can make me feel miserable. Bad about myself. You can turn the world upside down but you shall not defeat me. I will prevail. We will prevail. Because we are human. And we can bear it. And heal. And live.
How and when?
The body of this article was made one sunny morning while strolling down the well trodden paths of the beautiful Triglav National Park in Slovenia and then compiled and written in one breath at home. In the beginning of late winter of ’23, while passing through well known paths alongside Sava Dolinka I was watching my two enthusiastic animal companions, Vuk and Lao, tirelessly playing, jumping around, making every prank on each other they could think of. Sun was slowly bursting through thick pinewood, reflecting thousands of beams upon the particles of snow and running water. The noise was deafening and yet, all was still. In the play of the dogs, in the play of the sun, in the coming of the day, I often remember the ones I’ve lost and the ones who stayed behind. Peace be with them.
