As I slowly unpack and relocate many clothing items to a chair they’ll likely (will absolutely) call home for the next 5-7 business days, I’m appreciating many things—indoor plumbing, reliable power, (semi) reliable internet, AC, Hamburger Helper.
What a privilege it is to travel, especially to the tropics with Mike, my brothers-in-law, and my Mother-in-law. The scenery, hospitality, and ocean air was remarkable. But I found myself hesitant to post anything about it, knowing how many awful things are simultaneously happening to humans all over the world. I had my out of office responder on. I wasn’t recording for the podcast, I wasn’t working to change legislation, I wasn’t there actively advocating for crime victims, I was just vacationing. And it felt…wrong.
And that, dearest readers, is how I learned that I have been judging any pursuit of my own happiness as selfish.
In my trauma-riddled brain, pausing for even a moment to do something just for me that isn’t advocacy or benefiting others is “wasteful”. Would I ever say that to another person? Absolutely not. So why as survivors do we consistently tell ourselves this garbage?
“If the body cannot escape, the mind does, and it does so in a rather extreme way.”
In active trauma, our brains find the easiest way to keep us alive. Trauma responses like dissociation protect us by shutting down our senses. We turn off our emotional encoding so it’s all or nothing. And for a while, that works. Until it doesn’t. Turning the feelings valve back on can be downright terrifying. Anything could get in…
Thanks to some pirate-worthy rum pours one afternoon, I finally posted up a couple of pictures, and it was Robyn Sordlett who commented “Joy after trauma, we love to see it”.
Huh. Well. That’s something.
I thought about that a lot throughout the week (the sentiment, not Robyn, even though I still love her), and ultimately decided to lean in—to allow myself to fully feel JOY.
It’s vital that we let ourselves feel pleasure in a world filled with pain.
And I think it’s more important than ever to share that joy—to show other survivors that we can go on to live healthy, full, happy lives despite our pasts. So I’m taking Robyn’s advice and sharing some photos of our tropical vacation bliss.
As survivors, we’ve lived through our own storms, and we know all too well the suffering others are enduring. But healing doesn’t mean turning away from that reality—it means recognizing that we can care deeply for others, while still allowing ourselves to embrace happiness. Finding joy isn’t ignoring the darkness, it’s choosing to heal within it, knowing we deserve every moment of peace and laughter.
