My Trauma-Informed Yoga Story

*Originally featured in the Winter 2019 of Mag Pie Magazine

TRIGGER WARNING: This article explores the complex grieving process of losing my estranged adopted mother and how I used Trauma Informed yoga, in combination with Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) and traditional therapy, to manage my complex PTSD while working through past emotional, physical and sexual abuse in addition to a host of health issues.

LIVING IN THE JUNGLE

Have you ever seen one of those National Geographic documentaries where a gazelle narrowly escapes death from the jaws of a massive lion? Typically, the lion has the gazelle in its mouth, and it appears to be the end for the gazelle, as it dangles limply, when suddenly it leaps away at the speed of light and narrowly escapes to see another day. Wouldn’t it be interesting to know what life is like for this gazelle after having experienced such a traumatic and near-death experience?

I imagine that the gazelle would think often about what happened to her. She’d likely have nightmares. She would probably avoid grazing in the area where she was attacked, even if it meant taking a longer route to get dinner. Maybe she would find herself feeling more irritable and snippier with her children during meals and at bedtime, which would definitely add a heaping load of mommy guilt to her already fragile self-esteem. 

At some point the gazelle may even become distant from her partner, making intimacy awkward with her seemingly constant “headaches” at night. Maybe she eventually stops grooming herself all together because she is unable to put the energy into it anymore. Or, she could decide to drastically change her hair (maybe she’ll get braided extensions) and opt for her first piercing or a tattoo? She starts to feel the need to travel, to visit distant relatives and reconnect with old friends, she needs to “find herself” and make sense of the world. Maybe you are starting to wonder where I am going with this? 

WHAT IS TRAUMA?

Trauma refers to a shocking or frightening experience that makes an individual feel like they are emotionally and/or physically in danger. The key to understanding traumatic experiences rests heavily on how the individual experiences the situation and mentally processes the event. Trauma can occur for people after experiencing natural disasters such as tornadoes or hurricanes. Others may experience trauma after being the victim of a crime, suddenly losing a loved one, or being in an accident.  

I gave the gazelle in our story a very human approach to coping with being attacked, but in reality, animals have quite different responses to overcoming threats to their safety. 

Many mammals share similar neurological responses to danger, commonly referred to as the fight (need to protect and defend oneself), flight (need to leave the area) or freeze (sudden numbness or lack of mobility) responses. When our brain is given the message that we are in danger, a complex set of signals are sent through our nervous system that begin to go to work to protect us by triggering the three responses and placing our bodies on high alert.

Most animals, unlike humans, have a unique biological means of more immediately working through and recovering from the initiation of the fight, flight or freeze response. For instance, our gazelle would spend some time alone in a quiet place with her fluctuating heart rate, temperature and blood pressure, literally burning the stress and stimuli away, often physically shaking to recover from what happened to her. Thus, the gazelle would likely not experience the attack of the lion as traumatic and need to get a tattoo to cope with it. Trauma occurs for us when we are not able to psychologically and physically feel safe, leading our bodies to remain trapped in the fight, flight or freeze mode. This can have long-term negative consequences for our physical and mental health.

What may be experienced as traumatic for one person may be characterized as a natural part of life for another. What can lead a person to be traumatized and/or experience post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)? There is a complicated web of factors and variables to consider. This largely depends on the individual. Not all people who encounter traumatic events are traumatized or develop PTSD.

What could this mean for our gazelle? She could face a great deal of scorn from her community with labels like “snowflake”, “drama queen”, or “typical millennial” being thrown at her. She may hear things like: “lions attack every day (there is a channel dedicated to this duh)”, “being attacked is natural, you got away, move on and don’t dwell on it”. 

Others will wonder why she was in that area when two gazelles were maimed there just last week. Perhaps she hears from an aunt that “everyone has been attacked, more violently and by larger lions, and some of us are missing parts and not able to whine about it in Mag Pie magazine”. Some of these comments are valid and well-meaning. Some of the comments deserve a Facebook unfriend, but none of them are useful. We know from our gazelle’s coping patterns that she experienced the attack as trauma and her mind/body did not process it well. 

PTSD VS. COMPLEX PTSD

PTSD is a mental health disorder that can occur after a person experiences or witnesses a short-term traumatic event. PTSD symptoms vary based on the individual, which may include hyperawareness to environmental stimuli (sounds, light, smells, temperature, etc.), severe anxiety, abrupt changes in mood and thoughts, flashbacks and intrusive thoughts about the event.

It is oddly quite easy to type a laundry list of symptoms that one may experience with PTSD. In isolation they sound like annoying preferences or someone’s hypersensitivity at best. I was diagnosed with complex PTSD in 2010. I took that diagnosis in and ignored it until about three years ago, when I started to truly notice the ways that complex PTSD affected my personal and professional life, especially when combined with my health issues. Below is an excerpt from my journal detailing an episode of complex PTSD. 

“It was on the tip of my tongue when I dropped my husband off at work. One of my most common phrases these days is “I don’t think I can do this.” I had said it last night at least three times as I dragged myself from our bed at the crack of evening to prepare for our son’s first parent teacher conference. I was crying, which is akin to me breathing air, as I got dressed and stumbled around the room. I felt heavy, dizzy and just wrong. I was afraid to go. This was our first time meeting his new teacher and I did not feel in control of myself. I did not feel capable of pretending to be a responsible parent for 15 minutes. 

My husband nodded understandingly, as he has learned to do, as I washed my face and combed my hair. We made it on time only to stand in the increasingly humid hallway under a set of triggering gigantic fluorescent lights. My skin crawled as anxiousness uncurled and surged through me. Fresh tears tugged at the corners of my eyes. I felt the elastic in my bra squeezing my torso and pulling down my shoulders. I felt every stitch in the gray dress and cardigan I was wearing. My back itched, my arms itched, my legs itched, my purse was hurting my shoulder. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I found a corner of the hallway that was slightly dim and fanned myself furiously with a flyer. The internal pep talk that got me this far was rapidly wearing off. My body grew hotter, as sweat slipped down my forehead. I was slowly filling with rage and a pinch of nausea.

Suddenly the parents before us spilled into the hallway, their voices were alarmingly loud and in surround sound. I stared at the floor to steady myself, it was as if someone was turning their voices up to maximum volume and then down and then up again. Our son’s teacher apologized for the wait, I made some joke and breezily walked into the room. My ultimate fear is that one day I will not be able to shut down all that is going on inside of me and perform my way through my pain. That one day I will give into this chaos and not come back from it.”

Individuals who experience recurring traumatization that took place over several months or years are often diagnosed with complex PTSD. This condition is often diagnosed in adults who have experienced long term child abuse, as in my case. However, individuals who experience sustained periods of abuse, domestic violence, were held in captivity or lived in a community plagued by war or violence also commonly display complex PTSD. Complex PTSD adds a heightened level of difficulty in regulating and managing emotions as the person’s worldview has likely been shaped or altered over an extended period of time by chronic traumatization. They have had their fight, flight or freeze response repeatedly triggered only to continue to be exposed to harm.

GIVING TRAUMA-INFORMED YOGA A CHANCE

Incorporating a weekly trauma-informed yoga routine can be a vital and holistic approach to treating trauma when combined with traditional forms of therapy and seeking the advice of your general care physician. Trauma-informed yoga is rooted in the practice of traditional forms of yoga with the emphasis on building awareness and skills for coping that can lead to a more balanced and positive connection between the mind and the body. The concept of the body being a safe place that can provide a sense of comfort can be a radically different perspective for people working to overcome the challenges of trauma or PTSD. Complex PTSD often creates an exhausting cycle of physical tension by placing the body in a hyper alert or disconnected (almost lethargic) state, both of which have negative effects on the long-term health of survivors. Trauma informed yoga practices focus on stretching, muscle strengthening, breathing, and body awareness.

My therapist had been casually mentioning a trauma informed yoga group opportunity to me for several months and each time I let the thought flutter around my head for a second before it quickly dissolved. While I enjoyed being active and was genuinely interested, I knew nothing about yoga except for common societal tropes and stereotypes. I believed that yoga was practiced mainly by thin, vain, calorie-obsessed suburban moms or college aged women. I imagined myself, with all my lusciousness, a middle-aged black woman with ample portions of everything, pressed into my Lane Bryant 3x plus size yoga tights, gasping for air while fighting my large breasts and stomach, surrounded by a Victoria’s Secret runway show. No thank you! I decided to continue my now-dwindling routine of running on a treadmill (when I could find the time) and going for walks (when I could muster the energy).

For the past few years, I was increasingly experiencing all sorts of health issues related to vertigo, my hearing, vision, and chronic fatigue/pain, to name a few. After several expensive and painful tests, I was not any closer to a diagnosis. If anything, I was ready to diagnose myself with hypochondria. My health continued to decline as I battled through my symptoms to advise and teach full time, be a mother of two, and chair my first state-wide professional conference. Two weeks before the conference was scheduled, I learned that my estranged adopted mother and biological aunt was very ill. I was then devastated to learn that she had passed away the week before the conference. I was so fragile and broken that I jumped at the chance to try the yoga group when my therapist brought it up again later in July. Honestly, if she would have recommended river dancing I would have signed up at that point.

The passing of my mother reopened old wounds to say the very least. I began reexperiencing past trauma while trying to navigate strained and awkward interactions with my family. My first instinct was to avoid what happened. I told no one at my job that my mother had passed away. I carried on with hosting the conference and did not tell anyone until I became emotional at the closing of the conference and revealed to the audience that my mother had passed. As I looked at a stunned room, including my conference committee, coworkers and supervisor/mentor of over 10 years, I could not articulate why I needed to keep this buried within myself. There seemed to be no other option for me but to go to the conference. I insisted on it and told no one so that I could not be stopped. I took breaks in between conference sessions. I would go to my hotel room, lay in bed and cry for 10 to 15 minutes. I would then adjust my clothes, re-apply my makeup. I did my best to be the life of the party and provide a great professional development opportunity for my work peers. I was on autopilot, at my own choosing and, honestly, I was feeling sustained by all of these toxic practices. I was running from her death and partially numb to the hole in my heart. I took two days off to attend her funeral and returned to work. I did not want to talk about my mother’s death, I focused on feeling bad about how others felt bad for me. 

Part of me was completely numb and part of me wanted to just unplug my brain for a few days. Nearly one month after her passing and I still had not completely opened myself up to the grief and pain that I knew was in there. Up until the month before she passed away, I had not spoken to my mom since 2014. Before that, and since the age of 16, when I became a ward of the state (again), I spoke to my mother a handful of times every few years. Each interaction started with my best intentions and wishes for a mother daughter relationship that I desperately needed and wanted. Each attempt ended in unprovoked toxic verbal attacks against me and my family. Each one of the storms followed almost a script, with her telling me to never to speak to her again. 

Nearly 21 years of a mostly nonexistent relationship and now she was gone. Her abuse, alcoholism and general venom was not exactly a well-kept secret among those who knew her. This made it all the more triggering when family and friends would feel bold enough to bring it up to me and then say that the abuse I suffered was “all in the past now”. I’d nod my head vigorously, ignoring the stabs in my heart. I’d tried to smile politely like I was not smelling the fresh jar of B.S. that they had just opened just to make themselves feel better. I wished the abuse I had suffered was in the past. I wished it were a book I could close and shelve, but the abuse I endured impacts my life every single day. So instead of feeling the loss of my mother, I was reminded of the many times I had yearned for her. I was reminded of the many attempts I made as a young child and teenager to win my mother’s affection and love and all of the painful and traumatic things I experienced instead. This was the mental space I was in when I showed up for my first day of trauma-informed yoga in the entry below:

“I started my first session of trauma-informed yoga today. I arrived nearly an hour early intending to read and get centered before the session. I felt uncharacteristically anxious about being around people today. I now sat in the car sobbing while eating Starbucks egg bites and sipping a caramel macchiato. I felt such an intensely raw level of emotional pain. I felt deeply sad, hopeless, lost and like I was drowning. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I had found the perfect music to accentuate these thoughts as I sat there pathetically eating my breakfast and loathing myself. 

I finally pulled myself together enough to get out of the car and go inside. I met my therapist and the other group members quietly. I felt so awkward and out of place. I was happy the group was so small and all women. I felt some relief doing some of the poses. I felt myself relax a little and let go of a small piece of whatever rawness I was carrying. I thought about my relationship and history with my body. 

The beginning poses were expectedly difficult to do but I felt secure in not being able to do them. The warrior poses were my favorites. I liked focusing by looking out the window and thinking about standing in my strength. I liked listening to what my body told me to do during the freestyle moments and the reward I felt in doing so. I have such a complicated relationship with my body as most people do. I want to have more appreciation, gratitude and patience for my body. I am looking forward to returning next week.”

I am happy to report that I kept going back. Trauma informed yoga gave me something I really don’t ever remember having in my nearly forty years on this earth; a positive connection to my body and mind. I found gratitude, pride, safety and strength in my body in a way that I had never experienced before. I stuck with the program for twelve weeks and am continuing to practice. We met for one hour weekly and over time developed an authentic group harmony. Each week our instructor offered the group multiple poses and forms to experiment with. We were encouraged to listen to our own bodies and to consider our needs in achieving the movement. Our instructor did this by modeling positive self-talk and identifying her own limits. There was a consistency in our routine, but also variation and challenges that increased over time. We often practiced with light yoga music in the background which was very helpful for me. Perhaps my favorite part of each session was the last ten minutes of guided meditation while focusing on a specific mantra provided by the instructor. I liked reflecting on what I have accomplished and the empowering messages we were given to reflect on. 

I gained so much from this amazing experience. I learned a lot about my strength and endurance. While weight loss is not the focus of this group and was not my main focus, I lost 20 pounds and can see the difference in some parts of my body. I did become a little vain, in that whenever I see my butt in the mirror, I have to twerk a little to celebrate how much more toned it looks. I know, TMI, but it’s true! I now incorporate some of my favorite moves into my weekly pre and post workout routine. Yoga is now a part of my selfcare toolbox and after completing a short session of 5 to 15 minutes, I feel a sense of calm and focus. Like our gazelle from the beginning of my story, I have faced a lion. Like most people, I have faced many lions and through this process I have learned a healthier way to reconcile with that. Trauma informed yoga did not magically make my complex PTSD or health symptoms disappear, but I have felt improvements. When I feel tension and aches, I remember to approach myself with kindness and try to do a few poses. I’m still going to get my nose pierced.

Note: Managing your mental and physical health is a serious and important issue that should be pursued with trusted and competent healthcare professionals. I am not a healthcare professional. I am not a licensed or trained expert. I shared my specific experience and what worked for me, in celebration of my growth