See this crooked tree? It started out just like all the other trees, but something happened to it when it was young. When it was just getting started. Some kind of trauma.
But because it was a tree and it’s in a tree’s DNA to grow, it grew. And even though it was in the same soil as the trees near it and had the same fresh air, sunshine, and rain, it never grew in the same way.
It’s not as tall. It’s not as strong. And it leans. A lot.
It’s behind, perpetually playing catch-up. What it needed was for someone to notice. To come alongside it. To brace it to make it strong where the trauma had made it weak. To help it reset its course. But no one did. So it just keeps going like it always has. Every day it keeps trying to be just like all the other trees. Even though it’s not. Every day it grows as best it can. Every. Day.
This is what happens to a child who experiences trauma. They can have everything everyone else does, but until someone notices the trauma, notices what’s been done to the child, and comes alongside to brace them, give them strength, and reset their course, the child just keeps going like they always have as they become a teenager and then an adult.
Every day the person who suffered a childhood trauma keeps trying to be just like everyone else. Even though they’re not. Every day they grow as best they can. Every. Day. Until the healing begins.
This tree is me.
© Author Lisa Fipps. Do not copy or print any part of this without written permission from the author.