TRAUMA: It has no boundaries.  It does not discriminate.  EVER.  There are no age ranges of who it effects. 

It evolves differently in each of us.  Different events come and trigger us.  I believe every single person has had some trauma in their life, at some point.  On July 8, 2023, my best friend’s old house caught fire. Her son, my son’s best friend, was the only survivor.  His baby sister, my surrogate daughter, died.  Five years old.  Her dad…didn’t make it.  He and I had become friends since Covid.  He was a wonderful dad.  She was the most beautiful little girl.  They didn’t deserve to die.  They had so much life to give. So, so much.  That little girl took her first steps in my house.  She gave the best hugs.  After she passed, I found out from teachers that she was the one who helped all the kids in kindergarten open their lunches if they needed help. Helped with the baggies, with the juice boxes. Never asked, just did it.  She was a sassy li’l thing though.  Her brother jumped out his second story window. He survived. No broken bones.  He was all who survived.  4 people died.  The world lost 4 beautiful souls.  

I wasn’t in town when the fire started.  I woke up to Facebook posts about it.  My first text was to the girl’s father, asking if he was ok. I would discover soon enough that he wasn’t.  I was not 100% sure at that point it was their house.  Next, I called my best friend, the little girl’s mom.  She was screaming, she had come on the scene and didn’t know who was out and who was still inside.  I called her about an hour later.  She couldn’t speak.  I told her I would name the people in the house, and she would say yes or no as to whether they were still with us.  “Emily,” I whispered.  “No.”  I fell to my knees in the parking lot, lost it.  My youngest son was next to me through every post  I read, every phone call I received, every email, every text.  He was traveling back with me.  Emily  was only 5.  That was my best friend’s baby girl.  I knew at that point Anthony, her son, had gotten out.  I found out that Emily’s great uncle, and her dad’s girlfriend also never made it.  Her dad passed at the hospital.  Tragedy…trauma.  

I see her everywhere; I hear her talking to me.  I hear her footsteps running to give me a hug.  I hear her throwing a temper tantrum as she did many times when she had to leave our house.  The last time I saw her was in May of this year, in my backyard, doing cartwheels she had just learned.  She was running around with her brother and my two boys, playing tag, as mom and I watched, laughed, and talked.  

Trauma:  I see fire trucks, and my breathing starts to increase slightly.  I hear sirens with the same result.  I drive past where the house used to be, daily. My breath sputters. My family has yet to have a fire down on our patio, since the tragedy.  We have been to other houses with bonfires.  Those have been ok.  I think because it is at my home, where she used to run around, and I used to constantly tell her to, “slow down.”.  Events can occur, and one may wonder how that event triggers a trauma response.  For me, I recently found a pink baby shark toy under my son’s bed.  My brain thought of Emily.  Baby Shark was one of her favorite shows as a toddler. My oldest used to play the theme song on our keyboard, and then she would try to play it and sing along.  I then remember the tragedy, that she is no longer with us.  The heaviness in my chest comes back, the tears start to surface.  I am then catapulted to the times we shared together.  I get chills in my heart, my body, my soul.  Trauma can come out of nowhere.  

I have a brain disorder. Permanent brain damage.  I have Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  One of the ramifications of this disorder is perseveration. When trauma occurs, getting through it and not having it come back time and time again can be so tough.  Our brains fixate on events, and what events it chooses vary.  For me, Trauma is one my brain catches in the repeat loop.  I keep going over the events, in detail, what I know, how I felt, how I feel, what s different now, who is gone, who survived, and how are the survivors going to be affected.  A negative that comes with perseveration for sure.  One’s brain may be released from the repeat loop of traumatic events, but then something happens, and the trauma is triggered again.  The perseveration begins  again.  Sometimes less intense, sometimes more intense, sometimes the same.  How do we get through it?  Those of us that are experiencing perseveration?  We find our people.  We find our supports and talk it out.  Whether that be a counselor, family, friends, find your people.  Talk to them. Let them help you through it.  Perseveration is our brains trying to process information.  Sometimes it just has trouble and gets stuck.  Like an old school record player that skips…over…and over again.  This too shall pass. 

My grieving comes in waves. Usually when I am alone.  My tears, there are many more.  I know Em is with her dad, and I know they are ok.  Not in pain.  My heart aches for what we lost, but also for my best friend and her son.  The survivor’s guilt he must feel. He has started to talk about his dad and his sister more.  That is how he is dealing.  He is my “other son “.  I hope he heals, gets the help he needs, and grows up to be a strong, kind young man.  The man that his dad was helping him to become.  

So those of you living with trauma, I see you.  I feel you.  My feels may be different from yours, but the effects are the same.  They can incapacitate you, freeze you in time.  They can make you weak with tears.  No matter how you experience trauma, IT IS REAL, and IT IS BIG.  We can work through it, but everybody has their own timeline.  Be patient and be present.  That is all we ask.