“Nothing actually happened.”

How “nothing” can create betrayal trauma

The other day I saw a therapist’s post on Instagram saying the overuse of therapy words like “trauma” has made them meaningless.

I actually don’t disagree with her. I personally cringe at how frequently and easily “narcissist” gets tossed around. And I do think the word trauma has become somewhat of a buzzword to describe almost anything uncomfortable. The problem with the word isn’t necessarily that it’s overused though. The problem is that we’ve accepted many highly distressing and impactful experiences as normal, and have allowed ourselves to be the judge of what is or isn’t considered traumatic for someone else.

We exist in a culture of comparisons. There’s always someone who has had it worse. When we experience something disturbing, there’s a high likelihood that we will come across someone who can one up us. And the one upping is constant. We use comparisons to prove we’ve had it worse than someone else, or to convince ourselves that it really wasn’t so bad (which can be a protective mechanism, of course).

In her breathtaking memoir about healing from Complex PTSD, “What My Bones Know”, Stephanie Foo talks about how growing up, she and other abused children would play the Who Has it Better, Who Has it Worse game. And I admit as I binged her book, it was hard not to compare. The abuse she endured at the hands of the people who were supposed to love and protect her was horrific. In comparison to that, having a few boyfriends cheat on me feels like small potatoes.

Even within the community of betrayed partners, comparisons are rampant.

At least you were young when it happened.
At least it was just physical.
At least it was just emotional.
At least they admitted it.
At least you weren’t married.
At least you didn’t have kids.
At least they didn’t leave you.
At least they said they were sorry.
At least… at least… at least…

On the flip side, betrayed partners are gaslit by the unfaithful, or by family, or by society, to believe what happened to them wasn’t a big deal. That nothing actually happened.

So tell me, at what point does it become “actual?” When does it cross the line from painful to traumatic?

If we zoom out and look solely at an experience, I think it can be pretty easy to slip into minimization. With so many truly awful things happening in this world, the bar of what could be considered trauma is pretty high.

But Dr. Gabor Maté said something that has profoundly shaped the way I understand trauma:

Trauma isn’t what happens to you.
It’s what happens inside of you as a result of what happens to you.