What is trauma—and do I have it?

For the people who have quietly wondered if what they experienced counts.

Understanding trauma can feel big. . .

. . . ambiguous, and like something that only happens to other people. But you might be surprised by what trauma actually is — which is not to minimize how complicated life can become under the weight of it.

Simply put: Trauma is psychic impact.

Okay, what does that mean?

Before we get into what "psychic impact" actually means — and the elements that imprint trauma on our nervous system — we need to talk about how trauma is generally discussed in our culture.

I'll be honest: I'm not a huge fan of the terms "Big T trauma" and "little t trauma." To me, they create a sense of hierarchy — as if one is somehow worse than the other. And I've watched people use that hierarchy to dismiss their own pain.

Dismissing pain comes up a lot with people who do not have as easily identifiable “trauma.” I’m sure you’ve either said or heard someone else say, "There's no reason for me to feel this way. My parents showed up for everything. I had a roof over my head, everything I could possibly need or want. So many people have it far worse than me."

Stories like this can steer people away from doing the deep work necessary to understand and heal from their emotional pain.

That said, I do think the intent behind "Big T and little t" is meaningful — it's trying to communicate the vast, varied ways people can become traumatized. So let's start there, before we look at the actual ingredients that create trauma in the mind and body.

Big T trauma is what most people picture when they hear the word: physical or sexual abuse, a car accident, combat, a natural disaster. These are acute, identifiable events.

Little t trauma is more insidious. More chronic. More sneaky. Emotional neglect. Chronic misattunement. Shaming. Loss. Invalidation. It's the accumulation of seemingly small experiences over time that quietly builds into traumatic stress — precisely because it often goes unacknowledged.

A word of caution. . .

I'm not suggesting all trauma experiences are equal. The impact of trauma exists on a spectrum and is deeply personal. What I am saying is that many people who suffer emotionally convince themselves they don't have trauma — because their experience doesn't feel "horrific enough." Every experience of pain is worth honoring. Some may need more time and care than others. What you’ve carried counts.

So what actually creates trauma?

Here's a definition I return to often:

Trauma is an experience that overwhelms the mind's capacity to symbolize, integrate, and give meaning to an experience — leaving it unprocessed, and therefore repeatedly re-experienced.

Notice there are no events listed in that definition. That's intentional. Trauma has everything to do with the experience within a person, not a checklist of what happened to them.

To make this concrete: two people can experience the same car accident. One processes it with support and integrates it over time. The other carries it silently for years — bracing every time they approach an intersection, waking in a sweat, unsure why. Same event. Completely different outcomes. That’s not weakness. That's the nervous system doing exactly what nervous systems do—protect for future threat, even when it’s only perceived. The person who had support was not alone in their terror. They had another regulated nervous system beside them — a balm for their pain — that presence is what reduces trauma.

Key factors about trauma:

• Timing — What developmental stage did the event(s) occur? A nervous system at age 4 processes the world very differently than one at age 34. The earlier and more prolonged the exposure, the deeper the imprint tends to go.

• Relationships and support — Did you receive the care you needed afterward? Were you believed? Were you held? The presence or absence of a safe relationship in the aftermath can change everything.

• Repetition — Trauma lives in patterns. We unconsciously re-enact similar dynamics in our relationships, our choices, our bodies — often without any awareness that we're doing it. It's less a memory and more a groove worn into the way we move through life.

• Memory — Trauma is often not stored as a coherent narrative. It lives in fragments: a smell, a sensation, a sudden wave of dread that seems to come from nowhere. This is called a body memory. People may not have a conscious memory of the perpetrating events, yet their nervous system is responding in a way that does remember. This is because the body holds what the mind hasn't fully processed.

The most important thing I want you to hear:

It's not an event that is inherently traumatic. It becomes traumatic when it is endured alone.

A child who experiences abuse and receives no support will move through the world very differently than a child who does. Support doesn't erase the pain or the memory — and that's not the goal. The goal is simply this: you are not alone.

Healing is not erasing.

Healing is knowing you can endure painful things and still live a life of meaning and vibrancy.

If any of this has resonated — if you've found yourself recognizing a pattern, a feeling, a moment in your own life — that recognition itself is worth something. It doesn't mean you have all the answers. It just means you're paying attention.

The first step is acknowledging the suffering you're already carrying. That might look like anxiety, depression, loneliness, feeling stuck in harmful patterns, living under the weight of guilt or shame — and so much more.

You don't need to know whether you have "trauma" to reach out for help. You just need to know if you want more out of life.

And if the answer is yes — I'd love to talk.