Trauma Does Not Define Me

I spent much of my adult life keeping everything surface-level. I talked to people about aspects of my life but never dove too deep. I wanted them to see me as “normal,” if that even exists. I tucked all my childhood, teen, and early adulthood trauma deep down, trying to squash it into the recesses of my mind so it wouldn’t hurt me. But trauma lingers, waiting for an unprepared moment to break open and spill all around you.

Growing up, I always felt a little different. We moved every year, and I had to start at new schools frequently. I had a wild imagination, my mind always going a million miles a minute. I loved being around people and talking their ears off. I was honestly too much for my parents to handle at times because I always needed stimulation. Growing up in church probably caused me to trust anyone and everyone who attached the word "Christian" to their identity.

I was often called stupid or ugly, horrible words thrown my way and then laughed off as a joke. I didn’t realize the depth of what they were saying or the invisible scars that would one day reveal themselves.

Here’s the thing: our beliefs about ourselves always stem back to childhood. Things that are accepted today were not acknowledged or known about back then. If you had ADHD, many weren’t diagnosed and were labeled as uncontrollable or disobedient. Depression wasn’t noticed. My mind always went so deep into the corners, and what I got instead was that I had sin or not enough faith. Abuse from others was swept under the rug, and somehow, you felt as if it was your fault. You had no idea you were being groomed.

And then I grew up, carrying all this weight, trying to hide behind a fake smile, compensating by overeating instead of confronting my feelings. The rejection, the hurt, the never feeling like I had a safe space or people to rely on. You get used to words and rejection, and you start to believe that about yourself.

So yeah, I questioned my faith. Maybe I didn’t have enough. Maybe I was disobedient, so God allowed all the horrible stuff to happen. Maybe I’m worthless, and that’s why people aren’t there for me. But despite it all, I kept getting up, kept fighting, and maintained my trust that God was there. Someone once told me that I had more faith than anyone they had ever met. That realization changed everything.

I prayed to be healed. I prayed that God would take away the memories and emotions attached. But sometimes, healing doesn’t come that way. Healing is a long road. It’s about learning to retrain the mind to realize you can’t change the past, but you can change how you respond to it. Sometimes, healing is sitting with the fact that you’re always going to be a little different and the struggle is always going to be there. But God... I would not be where I am today without Him.

It made me understand that true faith isn’t the absence of doubt but the courage to keep going despite it. Now, I’m ready to confront my past, embrace my scars, and redefine my worth through a faith that endures.

Confronting childhood trauma is not an easy journey. It requires bravery to face the past and resilience to move forward. It means accepting that the things that happened were not your fault and that your worth is not defined by others’ actions or words. It means learning to trust again, not just in people, but in yourself and in a higher power.

Through this journey, I’ve learned that healing is possible. Faith is not about being perfect; it’s about being persistent. It’s about getting up every time you fall and continuing to fight for your peace and happiness. It’s about trusting that, no matter how deep the wounds, there is always a path to healing.

So, to anyone who feels weighed down by their past, know that you are not alone. Your faith, however small it may seem, is a powerful force. Keep getting up, keep fighting, and trust that you have the strength to overcome. Your trauma does not define you—your resilience does.

Love Sarah x.

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