#trauma-in-fiction

#trauma-in-fiction

"I wonder why I wanted to be famous," she muses now, as we sit across from each other in The Pavilion cafe in Cork.

"We're talking about political leaders who were moved by an enormous sense of responsibility and fear for the world."

A vision lay before him: Fleet Street blanketed with snow, silent, empty, pure white, and, at the end of it, the huge and majestic form of Saint Paul's Cathedral. It was a spellbinding moment: the great thoroughfare temporarily devoid of carts and carriages, the cathedral looming blurrily out of the still-falling snowflakes a real-life snow globe.

Didion describes San Bernadino County as 'the country of the teased hair and the Capris and the girls for whom all life's promise comes down to a waltz-length white wedding dress and the birth of a Kimberly or a Sherry or a Debbi and a Tijuana divorce and a return to hairdressers' school.'

For years, I had absorbed the chaos. I had made myself smaller, quieter, more accommodating. I had convinced myself that if I could just love harder, be better, try more, something would change. But in that moment, watching my child suffer at the hands of the man who was supposed to protect him, I understood with absolute clarity that nothing I did would ever be enough to fix this.

been ignored, neglected, minimized, or dismissed by mainstream psychology but can no longer be denied or avoided without serious consequences. As C.G. Jung (1961) presciently put it, "Today we need psychology for reasons that involve our very existence. . . . We stand face to face with the terrible question of evil and do not even know what is before us let alone what to pit against it."

If you have to read and reread in order to put together what's happening, then you are a co-creator of that literary experience. She saw this as specifically important for Black literature. Her highest aspiration, as she put it, was to create something at the level of jazz, which she saw as the highest form of Black art.

Research in psychological resilience suggests this kind of adaptation is a capacity that develops in response to adversity, not in the absence of it. Resilience isn't a factory setting. It's forged under heat. The person who seems unbothered at the dinner party, who shrugs off criticism with genuine ease, who doesn't need to win the argument: they almost always went through a chapter where they cared so deeply about someone else's opinion that it warped the shape of their days.

My husband and I had two children and lost them both. Vincent, 16, enjoyed baking, while 19-year-old James was a brilliant linguist and a deep thinker. Shortly before Vincent's death, Li had written a memoir about her depressive episodes which led to her own suicide attempts.

I never speak negatively about my body or my appearance in general when talking with my 9-year-old daughter. I am trying to model positive body image, self-esteem, and self-love for her. When I was growing up, my mother was always very self-critical, self-conscious, constantly complaining about her body and her flaws, and I had to work pretty hard to undo her negative programming.

Excellent descriptions of trauma abound, including memoirs, but they are logical and descriptive, constrained by the conventions of straightforward narrative. But trauma itself upends the usual modes of narrative by which we think about our lives: out of sequence and unintegrated, traumatic memories defy the logic that guides our sense of our lives as stories with a past, present, and future. Literary tools such as symbol, allegory, and narrative structure can embody a visceral sense of the ways that trauma can disrupt and diminish a life.

Tomás had lived in the city for about 20 years, but he grew up in Venezuela, where family life could be intense, political opinions were spoken openly, and knowing when to speak and when to stay quiet was often a matter of survival rather than preference. Daniela grew up in a very different family. Her parents talked constantly-about politics, values, and what they believed was happening in the world.

As Valentine's Day approaches, we start enjoying images of ruby-red hearts, kisses, and holding hands-ideals of romantic love. But what happens the day or week after? For some, there are engagements and celebrations; for others, hurts, disappointments, breakups-some of those ruby-red hearts, broken or cracked. Lasting romance is built on a kind of love that requires more than sexy lingerie and roses; it needs trust, openness, and mutual acceptance.

After finding this seam of gold, miner Michael dreams that his son will be able to go to school, rather than join the other children who work in the mine, like blind, bald rodents unearthing themselves in search of scraps of candlelight. In the novel, which won the 2023 Betty Trask prize, everything closes in on Michael: lungs clog, tunnels collapse, horse-drawn narrowboats are attacked by robbers in the sooty dusk. It's a vivid reminder of the cost, in bodily suffering, of resource extraction.

Banned as it's been, everybody knows what The Bluest Eye is about: a little black girl who wishes she had blue eyes. That's not really a spoiler. Besides, Toni Morrison didn't care about spoilers. In fact, she gave away the whole plot of her very first novel in its opening narration: "Quiet as it's kept, there were no marigolds in the fall of 1941. We thought, at the time, that it was because Pecola was having her father's baby."

I took a psychiatry class years ago, and during lectures my professor used to say, " We all have a diagnosis." We used to laugh at that. It sounded provocative. But what if he wasn't joking? What if diagnosis is not something "they" have, but something that exists on a spectrum we all live on? When we started our practice at a psychiatric facility, I saw an unsettling scene in the hallway.

On the night of Boxing Day 2021, my dad's body was found near a Cardiff hostel. His death, at 55, was as sudden as it was not. For years, alcoholism had been changing the shape of his heart. He died less than a mile from his old office; top law firm, equity partner. Four miles from our once tight-knit home in a leafy neighbourhood.

To start resolving our hurt, it helps to pause and ask ourselves a different question: What kind of wound am I dealing with? Many painful experiences-rejection, disappointment, humiliation, betrayal, exclusion-do not leave traumatic injuries. They leave emotional wounds. These wounds are real and impactful, even when they do not necessarily involve threat, terror, or a nervous system focused on survival. And yet, they can linger for years, shaping how we see ourselves and others long after the event has passed.

Has this happened to you? You run into someone, and they ask about something that you shared with them that was painful. They start talking about it, and there you go, hurting again? You weren't thinking about it, and the next thing you know, it hurts like it just happened. There are occasions - holidays and family gatherings - where the effects of a past painful experience will reemerge and trigger emotional pain all over again.