Not long ago I was teaching a group about complex trauma and I felt stuck. I was aware that what I was teaching was hard. Trauma is complicated—especially in systems. There’s individual trauma. There’s family trauma. Organizational Trauma. And the traumas of systemic racism and oppression. There’s all that trauma. There’s all the healing that was needed. And there’s the work that the group was tasked to do. I felt the weight of it all—the heaviness of the trauma and expectation. I was aware that what the group was experiencing was hard. And I was aware that there was something more that was needed at that moment. I began to feel frustrated in my ability to make myself clear, disappointed in myself that I couldn’t integrate what was happening fast enough—which combined into shame that I wasn’t going to give this group what it needed.

This place I had found myself with the group wasn’t entirely new territory. Somewhere in the middle phase of my healing journey I was in this place a lot. It is a place that I used to call ‘lost.’ It’s a place where I feel spun around, where I can’t find my bearings. I feel like my mind is blank and my body is full of feelings and I can’t seem to find a story that I can talk about. It feels like I am standing in a big empty forest that goes on forever. No matter where I look I can’t see a pathway, and in that feeling of lost I can feel lonely or isolated—even if someone is there listening to me. It’s hard to remember in that moment of lost that you aren’t actually lost at all.

In my work with the group—I was aware of all my feelings and my thoughts, but instead of being able to lean on my awareness—which actually held good and useful data, my survival skills from trauma kicked in. The emotions I was feeling triggered my old responses to danger—GET IT RIGHT (I can’t!) HIDE! (your feelings and thoughts) PRETEND IT’S OK. It’s what I often refer to as an emotional flashback. When I experience an emotional flashback, despite lots of practice, my first instinct is not to say what is true.  My very first thought is “I wish this wasn’t happening. Please make it stop.” My first feelings aren’t the feelings themselves, but my feelings about them. I feel embarrassed that I am ‘here’ in my trauma brain again. Embarrassed by what I am feeling. Aware that the feelings are huge and there’s no easy way back. Instead of feeling angry, or hurt, or sad, I feel shame for having the feelings and rage at having to reveal my shameful feelings to someone else.  The problem with emotional flashbacks is that they reveal what we want to keep hidden—they make visible the emotional wounds that we can usually hide. Saying how you really feel at that moment forces you to show others, but more importantly yourself, how hurt you are and how hurt you have been. No my first instinct isn’t to saying what it true, my first instinct, because of the shame this experience triggers, is to hide.  

When you are lost in the woods, what you are supposed to do is slow down-- stop and look around. Get your bearings. Pick out landmarks. Find a tree to sit next to. And somewhere in the middle of my work in therapy I found that the best way out of feeling lost, or stuck, or frozen or ashamed was this: simply say one true thing.

Say something that is true for you—anything that is true for you—no matter how small. Even if that something is ‘I don’t know what to say’ or “I feel numb” or “I feel lost.” Saying one true thing connects you to how you are feeling in this moment—and allows you to connect to whomever you are talking to. Your ability to say one true thing creates the opportunity to move from the experience of lost to the experience of found. By saying one true thing you locate yourself in space—you find something to stand on—to grab ahold of. By saying one true thing—you connect yourself to your feelings—and connect yourself to the present moment.

One true thing isn’t about an opinion. And it’s not about anyone else. It’s one true statement that is about your experience in the moment. Or it’s your experience in your story or your history. It’s the most manageable increment that you can hold and work with. Sometimes it’s something you say to yourself. And sometimes it’s something you may share out loud. One true thing isn’t your whole truth, or your whole story. It isn’t the answer to the problem or even the task you are trying to tackle. It’s just a way of finding your way back to the present and yourself. It’s a way of finding a way back to the present and the person or the group you are working with. It’s a way to connect—and we all need more of that—with ourselves and each other.

© 2022 Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD