I have PTSD from a very traumatic childhood. I could go into details, but I will spare you. I was physically, mentally, emotionally, and sexually abused in ways which appall most people. My full testimony can be traumatizing for others. Sometimes my brain doesn’t get it. I think, “This is just reality, why are you so shocked by it?” When people do hear it, I often get responses of, “I can’t imagine.” “I’m so sorry!” “How could anyone do those things?” And my least favorite, “Wow, you’ve had it so much worse than me!”
I have two children and have been up front with them about my mental illness since they were old enough to understand. Don’t touch mommy without warning because it makes mommy feel unsafe. Quiet voices create calm. Yes, from the time they were very little I have told them:
“Some scars show on your body, but some scars we cannot see. They exist on our hearts. Because of this, we want always to try to be gentle with other people.”
Now, let’s be honest, this is not physiologically accurate. I simply believe teaching my children the psychological and physiological issues behind long term responses to trauma is not appropriate with their developmental delays. And using ‘scars on my soul’ terminology doesn’t sit well with me theologically. So I just stick with ‘scars on your heart.’
I have a testimony that shocks people. I am often told I am strong. I am an inspiration. I am amazing. And it’s all—what is the politically correct term here?—a ton of crap. Yes, I have worked extremely hard to be well. I have been to counseling, learned new coping techniques, faced triggers, learned to advocate for my needs, put boundaries in place, retrained my brain on appropriate responses, learned healthy parenting skills, and taken medication for my mental illnesses. This is absolutely true. But the only reason I am who I am today— beyond a shadow of a doubt—is God.
So I want to share what is perhaps a very uncommon opinion. This opinion comes from years of healing, growth, and prayer. We have all experienced traumas. We have all known pain. When we compare traumas, there really are only two goals: to claim some unfortunate prize for having the ‘worst life ever’ or to minimize one’s own pain so they can rationalize why they don’t need help.
Even if someone you love had an experience that is categorically ‘more traumatic’ than yours, that doesn’t invalidate your trauma. It doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to seek healing or that you don’t need help. That doesn’t mean your pain is less painful than theirs.
So here is my theory: everyone’s greatest pain is equal. That thing that broke you down to your core is just as applicable as the thing that destroyed me. At some point, we must all start building from our lowest point to find healing.
Photo credit: Milada Vigerova on Unsplash.com.
When we spend time bickering about who had it worse, we are keeping ourselves and others from focusing on healing. Even worse, we are adding additional trauma to others. Much like an injured animal will bite a person trying to help, when we unintentionally wound others with this behavior, they will wound us. It’s insanity and we have to stop. Let the Church be the example of how to handle trauma with acknowledgement, grace, and love.
This will not be easy. Science shows that the more we think negatively, the more we will believe the negative. We create pathways in our brains. That’s why it is so easy to live in the victim mentality. I have been there. Some days, if I am being honest, I still am. I also recognize I have my own biases. We all do. How many times have I seen someone mourning over something that feels so trivial to me and thought, or even said, “Get over it?”
This is toxic.
We must stop comparing ourselves! Pain hurts. Trauma is destructive. We must stop minimizing our pain and the pain of others. We do not find healing in undermining anyone’s injury. Love doesn’t undermine the pain of others. It does validate their right to feel pain and point them toward healing. Let’s stop worrying about who had it ‘worse’ and start helping others.
We must stop using other people’s trauma to define ourselves. As a Christian, there should be only one thing that defines us: Christ. I often share it like this: we are all equal at the foot of the cross.
When we align our identity to what defines us, and surround ourselves with a faith community who does so as well, we can all begin healing. We will have someone with whom to bear our burdens. We will have someone to help us focus on what is important. When we, the Church, align our identity to that which Christ gave us, we will see moments of miracles. We will experience the peace that surpasses all understanding, we will feel unshakable joy, and we will see the goodness of God in the land of the living.
So this is my official call to the Church—let’s stop comparing our pain like there is some prize for who had it worse. If we are honest, we all know whose pain was the worst:
“Christ was mocked, beaten, whipped, tortured, hung on a cross, and bore all the sin of the world. Jesus experienced the Father’s inability to look upon Him because of our sins. Then He died for our sins.”
Unarguably, He had it the worst, and He never complained. Never once did He hold it over our heads. He acknowledges that living in a broken world hurts. He recognizes it’s hard, and He doesn’t leave us there. He doesn’t undermine, but He does uplift.
Let’s stop comparing our pain and do the same.
Joanna French is the special needs pastor at Flint Hills Church, Junction City, KS. Joanna and her husband Jairmie have two boys with autism. In 2017, Joanna started Flint Hills Embrace, with the goal to make Flint Hills Church a place where everyone belongs. Why? Because we all have a place in God's plan.
