Trauma anniversaries & presidential elections
A note to the gloriously sensitive ones
Just overheard this: "The human body was truly not made to tolerate three Trump elections in one lifetime."
A note to the deep feelers among us, the gloriously sensitive, the ones with extra radars for the emotions of the collective.
Hi. I know you sometimes hate your sensitivity. It makes your heart hurt and your body ache. Problem is, this gift (yes, it is such a gift) is something we need right now. Because you’re likely feeling what we’re not very good at talking about.
Your beautifully sensitive nervous system has a way of noticing what’s not being said. But also what’s not being felt. And as much as we all would prefer to dissociate, numb, and scroll, we also want to be more human. Which means we do need reminders to feel what’s happening in our bodies. Our emotions.
Eight years ago this fall, many of us voted for an effective female candidate to lead our country as the first female president of the United States. We anticipated shattering this glass ceiling in a moment history would remember forever.
Instead, we descended into four deeply traumatizing years. We wept not just over his ineffective leadership, but over the reality we had a leader who tore down anyone not like him. We experienced trauma on the daily.
Now many of us are mailing in ballots and getting ready to stand in line to vote for another candidate for president. Hopefully the first woman this time? She’s not perfect, but she’s capable and more than ready for the challenges ahead.
The thing is — our bodies remember eight years ago.
I watched the presidential debate a few weeks back and my body constricted with pain. While others laughed, my body trembled with rage. While others posted meme’s as a way to cope with the absurdity, my body pushed tears out my eyes.
Our bodies remember.
May we all be exceedingly gentle with each other and ourselves in these days ahead. Trauma hangs out in our physical bodies, but also in our collective body, until it is faced, felt, and integrated.
Since our culture is pretty terrible at those things, it’s up to us as individuals to step into these spaces and tell the truth so a few more of us can heal together.
And the most frustrating thing about living in a sensitive body, is that we often feel the pain long before others around us.
I used to think I was just the odd duck who had a cursed pain-filled body. But after years of learning my nervous system, engaging strong emotions, and learning to trust she’s not actually broken, now I’m learning to use my sensitivity as a tool. It helps me pick up on things in the places I work that others might miss. I’m learning how to move stuck energy in systems so it can flow again. I recognize the early signs of meltdowns and sensory overload. Stepping away and caring for me is more intuitive and proactive than ever before.
Dear ones, you might still be an odd duck (yay! be you!) but your body is not cursed. You’re more aware of our collective pain because it shows up in your body.
As we journey toward election day and through to the other side, may we all care for our hearts, minds and bodies with intention and purpose.
May we speak peace and power into this collective world we share.
May we step away into quiet and reflective spaces to fill our beings with love.
May we fight for our loved ones who’s rights deserve protection.
May we take up every square inch of the beautiful voice that is ours.
May we love ourselves whole. And in doing so, love our world into healing.
“Our body remembers the anniversary of trauma. Waking up and feeling raw, overwhelmed, distressed or triggered for a day, a week or a season for seemingly no reason can happen when a traumatic event occurred during the same time of the year. Our body remembers, even when our mind helps us forget.”
- Lexy Florentina
From the Thread Archives
Today would have been my brother’s 36th birthday. I’m taking the day off to give my full attention to the work of re-membering. Grief has such a way of dividing self. Doing anything to not feel the pain. Here’s to gently creating space for pain and love to bubble up where it needs to. It’s a beautiful way to keep loving the person we miss more than life.
Thank you. I feel understood.
Thank you Jenny. You put words to the nameless pain I've been feeling as this ugly election winds through it's courses. I even had a vivid nightmare last night about this subject. That was a first. Thank you for helping me embrace instead of run away from this moment.