“But nothing REALLY happened…”

Let’s have a conversation about trauma.

The concept of trauma is still an enigma to many. I mean, I’ve spent years immersed in it and I still can’t neatly define it. And that’s because trauma, much like human experience, refuses to be confined to a single definition. Specialists can provide examples, sure, but trauma is as varied and complex as the people who experience it. What devastated me may not even register for you, and vice versa. That’s the tricky part about psychoeducation in our current climate. The media often focuses on the extreme cases: a soldier returning from war, PTSD haunting them like a shadow, or a teenage girl who, after sexual assault, swears off intimacy.

But what happens if that doesn’t apply to you? What if you’re not the victim of a clearly identifiable event, yet you still struggle with dysfunctional behaviors, defense mechanisms, and reactions that cling to you like stubborn shadows? I hear this all the time—“But nothing really happened…” So, what did happen?

Here’s the thing: The media is not wrong in depicting the more obvious forms of trauma. Those experiences are real, valid, and deeply impactful. But they represent just one facet of a much larger picture. Trauma can be divided into two broad categories: event trauma and developmental trauma. Let’s talk about both, because developmental trauma is the one we rarely unpack—and it’s the one that tends to sneak up on us.

Event trauma is the stuff you can pinpoint: a singular event that you can recall clearly—such as sexual assault—that leaves an indelible mark on your central nervous system and is often linked to PTSD. It’s obvious. It’s impactful. It makes sense to most people.

Then there’s developmental trauma. This is the tricky one. Why? Because nobody wants to dive into the abyss of their childhood and confront the possibility that they were raised in a narcissistic household, or that their emotional needs weren’t met in ways they didn’t even realize they needed. Developmental trauma consists of repeated, often subtle interactions between caregivers and children, which may be impossible to recall as adults because it’s not just one event—it’s a series of emotional experiences that subtly shape the child’s worldview and nervous system. This kind of trauma doesn’t always show up on the surface, but its effects are deep and far-reaching.

Developmental trauma tends to manifest in the most intimate relationships of our adulthood. Take, for example, teenage girls who develop close friendships with other girls—these relationships are often fraught with drama because they echo the dynamics of the relationship with their mothers. Over time, the ego kicks in as a protective measure, causing us to avoid situations where we might be triggered. It’s like a self-preservation instinct, protecting us from emotional harm. And when we do end up in emotionally abusive or narcissistic relationships as adults? Often, it’s our ego’s attempt to heal that unresolved childhood trauma.

Developmental trauma isn’t just one category—it’s divided further into attachment trauma and separation trauma. Attachment trauma, also known as neglect, involves a lack of emotional response—like being ignored when you cried as a child. It’s subtle, so you may not even feel justified in feeling hurt. Yet, this type of trauma lays the groundwork for co-dependent relationships in adulthood and can lead to addictions to downers—alcohol, Xanax, you name it. On the flip side, separation trauma, or emotional abuse, happens when parents lack the resources, tools, or support to raise a child with psychological welfare in mind. This one is particularly sneaky because children internalize these experiences and personalize them—leading them to believe, “I’m unlovable. There must be something wrong with me.” As adults, this affects our ability to trust, connect, and feel safe in relationships, often manifesting in counter-dependent behaviors, such as hyper-independence or avoidant attachment styles.

Now, why does all this matter? Because developmental trauma is insidious. It doesn’t always look like what we think trauma should look like. For me, it didn’t involve substance abuse or rebellion—I was the straight-A student, the poster child for “doing everything right.” But internally? My trauma shaped my worldview in a way that made me believe the world was inherently painful. So, I hurt first before anyone could hurt me. I pushed people away before they had the chance to hurt me. I sought constant stimulation—partying, drugs, sex, gossip—because the quiet, introspective moments were too painful to endure. I became a people-pleaser, tolerating toxic relationships and mistaking abuse for affection. And perhaps worst of all, I couldn’t love myself.

Let me underscore something here, because it’s vital: If you do not love yourself, you have nothing. Let me say that again: If you do not love yourself, you have nothing. If you can’t cultivate love for yourself, you can’t begin to understand what it means to love or respect someone else. And in that sense, you strip your relationships of their true meaning.

So, please. Start putting yourself first. Honor and enforce your boundaries. Make time for yourself. Check in with yourself. Listen to your body. Respect your needs, your wants, your values.

You matter. You always have. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, tell you otherwise.

Ayla