When There Is Nothing To Fight

“You know, I look like I do because I spent so much of my time fighting, and you look like you do because you were focused on protecting yourself,” Meg said as she pushed into the rock mass that is the lower left portion of my rib cage.

Physically, my massage therapist and I don’t look much alike. She’s long, lean, and angular, whereas I’m short, round, and squishy. Our approaches to healing are likewise different. She’s more hands-on (literally!), abrupt, and insistent, whereas I’m physically distant, encouraging, and questioning. In our own ways, we bring healing to the people we meet, one person at a time.

I keep returning to her comment because I’m wondering how our trauma responses link to our sense of when and how the traumatic events occur - especially as it relates to fighting and freezing.

In what she’s shared about her story, Meg’s childhood was filled with harsh language and physical violations. There was something there to fight back against. As if, for this young girl, the horror gave her something to rail against, something tangible. She became someone walking through the world with her sword at her back. A fellow traveler, ready to cut you down - if needed.

I recognize this only because I will fight if I can identify what to fight. There’s a reason I declare I won’t run when the zombie apocalypse comes. It’s not my style. I will stand, and fight, and die right here, thank you very much.

But, the isolation and emotional neglect I experienced in my childhood permeated the air and offered nothing to fight. I could throw all the punches I wanted; there was nothing to hit. It was as if I lived in a vast empty warehouse with nothing to hit and nowhere safe to run. All I could do was prepare for the worst.

So, that’s what I did. I protected. I added mass to soften the blows you know will come. I hardened to prevent the infiltration of even the smallest things that could hurt. I became a fortress, immobile and oddly comforting even in the loneliness.

I don’t know what to do with this insight yet. I’m unsure if it can be broadened beyond the two people in the basement. And, it’s interesting to think about and consider what that means for healing.