Silent observations: unspoken trauma

Photo by Elizaveta Dushechkina at Pexels

Scarlett Peters explores the nuances of trauma and processing difficult feelings

There seems to be a widespread stigma surrounding trauma. It’s often viewed as a terrifying force that places an indelible scar on your heart. It can be hard to accept and tends to be thought of within the lines of abuse, sexual assault and profound grief.

However, it extends beyond another person’s written words in their memoir or those performed in a speech. Trauma is different for everyone. Some choose not to accept it while others process every emotion and replay their wounds, over and over again, until one day the scars have faded and healed over.

Trauma can’t always be diagnosed. It’s something that you may decide to hide and bury rather than embrace. Everyone faces trauma from behind a different mask. My trauma hasn’t been placed on paper but today is the day I’ll let it seep out. I’m finally accepting something that makes me, Scarlett Mae Peters.

I’m speaking as though I experienced a trauma inch by inch. Yet I was more of an observer rather than a participant and, in my mind, this marks my trauma as unimportant and not one to voice.

What I’ve come to realise is that trauma can come from watching and witnessing an incident. Perhaps it’s something you’ve seen before or something that’s unusual, one of a kind.

Secondary trauma, the profound impact of witnessing the suffering of loved ones

This is my story. It is about the distress that has silently built up within me, never fully felt or expressed. This hidden trauma, always present, refuses to wander away. It is secondary trauma, the profound impact of witnessing the suffering of loved ones, which I’m only now beginning to understand and acknowledge.

It’s hard to accept that it’s something major as it appears so minor, leaving no physical marks. I’ve been offered a hand, to talk to someone, but never seemed able to take it. In fact, I even mocked it. I didn’t want to give my worries to these reaching fingers. What if, once I voiced my fears, they wouldn’t go away? I wanted to stay quiet, letting those suffering directly receive the help they needed. Hiding my real emotions from my surroundings, only confronting the struggle and pain at my most sensitive moments.

Reflecting on the profound impact of witnessing the suffering of loved ones, I’ve come to realise the intricate complexities of trauma. It’s not just the pain we endure ourselves, but the silent wounds we bear from witnessing the pain of others.

Check out Hope Support which helps young people when a loved one faces serious illness.