[Another post from the Critical Psychiatry Network]
Why does victimhood persist?
Some cases of trauma seem as if they do NOT want to get well. They appear almost deliberately to cling to their trauma, as if it were a matter of life or death. They are especially hard, if not virtually impossible, to treat. But this is no coincidence – it can be an inherent part of the disease. The phrase which applies in such cases (though not all) is
The traumatic attachment to trauma.
This phrase came up following a recent fascinating conversation with my friend Dr Felicity de Zulueta, and it points to the paradox of trauma – some people simply don’t see a way to give it up, nor to cease being a victim, nor, worse, to tolerating the very idea that there are ways through.
I like the phrase unprocessed rage which came up here recently, because, in some cases, the rage is used, wantonly and without regard for decorum of any sort, to prevent the processing – a classic case of traumatic attachment to trauma.
The metaphor which appeals to me, is of the sufferer clinging to the cliff edge, convinced by all childhood events, that the drop to the rocks below is 200 feet. HOWEVER, since childhoods are now over, the drop is now only two inches – but who do you believe? All those dead authorities? – or someone with the temerity to advise processing your rage?
Altogether a rock strewn area of medical practice – but if my predictions are correct, one which will sweep other theories into obsolescence – though not, as you may observe, without limitless quantities of rage being splatted, indiscriminately, far and wide.
Rock on, if you can,
Bob
I clung to my rage as my 'dysfunctional and dystopian comfort blanket' for many years.
I gradually realised, that is, this truth became real in my experience, during the custodial years of my life sentence (1983-2005), that my rage was a cancer that was slowly killing me as I had killed another.
Thankfully, I discovered the power of 'letting go' (what some may call 'forgiveness' of the perpetrators of my early years trauma).
To this day, I continue to try to live a life of 'letting go'.