Everyone has Trauma. Oh, and you’re no exception.

Everyone has Trauma. Oh, and you’re no exception.

Do you really think you’ve made it this far in life without a single misstep in that minefield of countless mental health conditions, personality disorders, and trauma responses?

Haha, come here, you silly, silly goose. Listen, you’re broken. Shhh, yes, we can fix you. But hey, let’s normalize it! Being broken doesn’t mean you’re broken.

…I’m sorry. What the actual f*ck?

It seems I can’t go a day on social media without being fed yet another condition that I supposedly suffer from, need deep healing for, or that seems to be the root of all— and I mean all— my problems.

Don’t feel like waking up at 6 a.m. on a Monday? You must be exhausted. Beware! That could be an early sign of burnout. Also, are you sure you’re not suffering from depression?

You’re in the kitchen snacking through the fridge even though you’re not really hungry? Or you eat that broccoli that’s about to rot even though you’d rather have takeout but feel bad for throwing food away? Not appropriately responding to hunger cues and cravings could be an early sign of an eating disorder.

Your dad once let 12-year-old you wait for him in the rain for 20 minutes after school because he was stuck in traffic? That’s probably the root cause of your crippling fear of abandonment and potentially the reason why all your past romantic relationships failed.

You’re out partying with the girls, looking like an absolute smoke show, and a guy has the audacity to compliment you? Did he just reduce you to your looks? Oh, and also, that was uncalled for and thus sexual harassment.

Do you ever experience negative emotions? Do you ever doubt yourself and your abilities? Easy. That’s a clear sign of anxiety.

STAHP.

Not everything is a condition. You’re not broken. You’re a human experiencing life.

Look, I’d be lying if I said I’d always fought the urge to take part in one of those quick two-minute surveys that promise to shed light on your psyche a little bit more.

According to the internet, I suffer from moderate depression, am bipolar, have commitment issues, social anxiety, and— if I believe that Cosmopolitan survey I took in 2017— I’d be a cauliflower if I were born a vegetable.

These days, we’re quick to label virtually any behavior or personality trait with some mental condition, abnormality, or unhealed wound. That’s a dangerous road to take.

Now, am I denying the existence of any of these conditions? Of course not.

But here’s my issue: these “conditions”, like many other things, are usually measured on a spectrum that spans from so-called early signs up to a full-blown type 3 medical condition.

Before we continue, did I already mention that I’m not a professional or trained expert on any of this? If not, let this be the magical disclaimer. Everything I say is almost exclusively based on my own opinions and information gathered from self-diagnosis and online surveys. So please, take it easy, and if you disagree, you’re probably right.

I’m leaning out the window with the following statement (no, this isn’t a suicide attempt or a scream for help), but I’d argue most of us agree that it’s socially acceptable to have a glass of wine on a Friday night. Oh, and a mimosa or two during Sunday brunch, and not to forget that after-work beer on Thursday evening. At some point, what’s considered socially acceptable drinking behavior can develop into a full-blown alcohol addiction. A slippery slope.

Some people ditch alcohol altogether and almost exclusively fuel their bodies with healthy juices and Haitian water. But did you know that even water can kill you? While drinking water is absolutely critical for our body and brain to function properly, it’s still possible to overdo it. I’m not trying to unlock another fear inside of you, and it’s highly unlikely, but the point is— there’s still a possibility, even on that spectrum.

Since both of these actions carry an underlying threat to your health, does it mean we should label the mere act of drinking a glass of wine, or water for that matter, as dangerous or as a mild form of addiction or condition? No.

Do I think labeling it as a mild condition of XYZ and “normalizing the condition” instead of just saying this is, in fact, normal behavior matters? Absolutely.

Here’s why. And again, I’m specifically focusing on the lower end of the spectrum— the so-called early signs, mild forms, or hints of certain conditions.

Words are powerful. So are the thoughts we have about ourselves. “I am” affirmations are an incredibly powerful tool that ultimately shape how we perceive our reality.

If I walk around thinking I have six mild forms of a condition, trauma response, or whatnot, I mentally activate those blockages within me. Every bad experience I live through then serves as proof that the story I told myself holds true— that I, in fact, suffer from this condition. In short, every bad thing reinforces the identity I’ve adopted. If I identify as a depressed person and I’m in bed crying, I consider that a normal state because, after all, that’s what depressed people do. Being happy, on the other hand, gets mentally labeled as a “good day”— an exception to my condition.

If I change the story and say that I’m a naturally healthy person, it’s easier to identify experiences for what they are— neutral. If you think about it, every experience is only as significant as the emotional response we have to it. You’ve probably heard the quote:

“It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”

How we react depends on the story we’ve told ourselves leading up to that point. You got rejected from the job you applied for? If you think you’re a failure and “suffer from” low self-esteem, this experience becomes the perfect opportunity to confirm your self-doubts. However, if you consider yourself a smart, savvy, and successful person, you might see that same rejection as a learning opportunity— not a direct insult to you and your abilities— and acknowledge that you simply weren’t the right fit for that specific role without diminishing your self-worth.

Here’s where the spectrum comes in. If you entertain the thought of being a highly insecure, unsuccessful person for long enough, outside circumstances like the one just described will be perceived through that lens you’ve created for yourself. As mentioned in another post, I believe we all inevitably walk around with our own personal lens. But we do have the creative power to choose which one we put on every day.

Don’t be mistaken. The prospect of stepping out of your cozy, safe apartment on a Friday night to walk into a bar by yourself is a scary thought and requires many of us to overcome that inner hurdle. But again, this mental hurdle only gets as big as we allow it to be. If you identify as someone who has social anxiety, all that does is inflate the mental blockage and reaffirm your fear. I feel this way because I suffer from that condition. No. You feel this way because you’re literally about to step out of your comfort zone. Now, if the thought alone makes you curl up on the floor and cry hysterically, that’s another conversation, and we’re higher up on that spectrum.

Point is, we all feel it. We all feel insecure. We all feel nervous. We all feel unprepared. We all feel overwhelmed. The only difference is how we decide to face the challenge.

If you have a driver’s license, you probably remember your confidence evolution. I certainly do. The first time I went for a drive alone after passing my test was absolutely terrifying. There was no extra pair of eyes to conveniently tell me if danger was around. Though I’d learned how to drive, the action wasn’t yet fully automated, so it felt like my brain was doing five things at once. But I managed it. No accidents, no hostile situations, no fellow drivers flipping me off. Phew.

What followed were more solo drives with the same outcome. I slowly started gaining confidence as I gathered real-life evidence that I was, in fact, able to drive safely. Over time, I let go of my fear and naturally began to trust my abilities.

Funnily enough, my fear crept back when I stopped driving for about two years because I felt out of practice. I relearned to drive with the same method, and it worked like a charm.

Demystifying the thing you’re scared of by doing it anyway, and collecting evidence that lowers the height of that mental hurdle, is the way to go— at least in my experience.

Don’t get me wrong, challenging yourself is scary. But don’t inflate that inner fear with excuses disguised as conditions or traumas. If you do suffer from any of these conditions in a more serious form, this post isn’t meant to make you feel bad in any way. I wish you strength and healing, and I’m sorry if my words triggered you.

We all have our battles. I sure as hell do too. Taking a long, hard look in the mirror made me realize that some of my mental blockages had purely been fed over the years by me and my own self-destructive thinking. So,

I chose another lens.