The Prison of Optimism

When I was recovering from PTSD, I learned to brace myself from well-intentioned friends who told me, "It's all going to be okay."

Even worse was inferring that there was somehow a "Larger plan" or that my trauma was "For a reason," or my all-time most hated, "Maybe it happened for the best." 

I knew my friends were trying their best to support me with empathy and compassion, but it still took all my internal strength and composure not to push back and say, "Fuck you."

Their optimism felt oppressive and shaming. It made me feel wrong to be where I was, like I was doing something wrong by having PTSD, or like I needed to justify it. It signaled that they were uncomfortable with my experience and it made me feel unsure and unsafe.

When this would happen, in the moment I felt alarmed to experience such strong internal pushback to their sincere attempts to meet me where I was.

I would tell myself that my friends were just trying to help me. I would steel my expression, steady my breath, and try not to show the rage that was arising within me, threatening to take me on another downward trauma spiral.

It is a testament to my friends and my self-control that I was able to maintain my relationships during the darkness and extreme pain of this period. Being told there was some hidden positive in my experience that I simply wasn't seeing felt like making me wrong for being where I was.

I already wanted to push everyone away and hearing this made it even worse.

When I shared where I was with some friends, I would hear about how their trauma was their biggest gift and how when I would someday realize that, everything would be okay. I remember thinking, “No, it won’t.”

Sometimes, after a friend would say some version of "Everything will be okay," I would push back. I would ask, "How do you know? How do you know that?" and if I felt particularly brave or angry I would add, "We can't know that." They would look at me, startled and taken aback.

That moment was a crucial one for my healing and the trauma spiral. Would they acknowledge where I was, or would they keep on going with the forced optimism?

Not everyone was able to meet me there, in the emptiness of acknowledging what I was going through, without needing to make it better.

Understanding this helped me navigate the rage that came when people tried to make the trauma better, when they tried to force false optimism. It felt like they were recoiling from my intense need for companionship, for nurturing, for solace from a friend. Instead of resonating with me, pulling up a chair, and putting a hand on my shoulder, they tried to change where I was.

By forcing optimism on me, they were making me wrong. If where I was needed adjustment, that meant that the trauma I was experiencing was somehow wrong or unwanted. This made me feel even more alone than I was before.

At that moment, the opportunity for connection was denied just as I was most needing it. I remember the letdown and the grief that came from a deep need to be seen.

Telling me, "It's for the best," or " Everything will be okay" ignored the opportunity for me to make meaning from the experience myself. It claimed authority over my story. It enforced a surface positivity that denied my authentic experience.

I was in a dark place, but instead of bringing a light to come sit with me, it was like someone shining a flashlight in my eyes. I had no option but to blink and turn away.

I know that some people make incredible meaning out of their trauma and life's challenges. Some people don’t. No matter what, telling someone in the midst of their process that they should be more positive does not help their trauma.

Communicating how you expect them to behave doesn’t really give them many options.

When we make someone wrong for where they are emotionally, we destroy the opportunity for authentic connection. All that we can offer from that space are empty platitudes, devoid of true possibility, offered halfheartedly.

Next time you're tempted to tell someone that something is "For the best," I hope you’ll pause for a minute and consider how it will land.

There are so many ways to meet someone who is navigating trauma without making things worse.

Here are a few of the ways that you can support and play a role in making things better when someone is deeply suffering.

5 Things to Say to a Friend with Trauma (To Make It Better)

1. "I can see that you're suffering."

Trauma is by nature isolating and overwhelming. It is likely your friend will share or communicate a deep pain. Recognizing and naming what you see in your own words will create connection and support. When you are truly present with someone else and connected to them, a shift in what is possible naturally occurs.

2. "What you're going through is really hard." 

It makes such a difference when a friend witnesses the struggles we're facing in our lives. If #1 is about acknowledging how your friend is feeling; #2 is about acknowledging the wider context of what is going on. Reflect back anything they’ve told you about what is happening in their life. You don't need to talk about the event or the trauma, or explicitly discuss any kind of issue or diagnosis. Simply reflect on their situation, be specific, and let them know that it looks hard.

3. "Where you are is 100% okay right now."

So often, people experiencing trauma are made to feel wrong. Trauma, by its very nature, overwhelms the system so their expression of trauma might be inconvenient, volatile, and out-of-control. Do your friend the honor of letting them know that it's okay to be where they are. Tell them that that their responses to trauma are understandable and normal. Take the burden off their shoulders.

4. "I really feel for you in this."

You want to let them know, in your own words, that you empathize with them. When this comes from your own felt experience, it will create emotional resonance with them. Your friend will feel you feeling them, and by doing that, experience that they are not alone. You don't need to go into a lot of detail about how you feel, just let yourself — and them — feel it.

5. "What are ways I can support you?"

Only say this last one if you mean it and are prepared to meet any reasonable requests. You might offer to be in more frequent contact and plan what that will look like, e.g. daily emoji texts or weekly talks to check-in. Notice your own boundaries and give yourself permission to negotiate or even deny requests that don't work for you. This is about co-designing their support together. 

*

We care so much about our friends and want to do our best to support them. Learning how to communicate with a friend who is experiencing trauma can be as simple as recognizing where we’re coming from and adjusting our frame. Learning how to offer connection and companionship in those places is a true gift, indeed.

Times are challenging! Here’s to our friends and to learning how we can better support each other.

***

Thanks for reading. If you'd like more, sign up for my free newsletter where I share about trauma, leadership, and wellbeing. It's the best way to read my writing, and I offer free workshops and other ways to work with me.

And finally, if you know someone who might benefit from reading this, I invite you to share it with them. Sharing is caring!