Unbecoming: is trauma a catalyst for reinvention?

The cover immediately appealed to me.

As I was scrolling through my father-in-law's 30001 book collection, my eyes stopped on « How People Change » by Allen Whellis.

Right off the bat, it hit me:

"Many of us have never known unpaired misery (war, natural catastrophes...) yet we suffer too. Wealth, intelligence, and good fortune are no protection; misery comes equally to highs and lows born."

Turns out, I had been in a whirlwind of suffering myself lately.

I cycled through all the phases of grief - first shock and emptiness, then a rage that rushed in to fill the void. "Why is this happening? Why did I invest so much meaning in work? Why don't I feel better yet?". For weeks, I felt broken.

The truth is, I still struggle. Some days, I even wonder: have I just lost part of my vitality?

Like anyone, I've known trauma's sting before. Previously, my coping method was to "close that chapter and start a new one." But this time was different - I sat with the pain in a manner I'd never allowed myself before. More or less consciously, I did not rush the healing process. I was doing the work, only differently. For once, I practiced patience - with myself first, and then with the slow unfolding of results.

I relied a lot on journalling. In fact, I’d like to share some interesting reframing prompts, if you are also facing challenging times. Ask yourself:

• What aspect of myself is this suffering revealing or calling me to realign with? 

• What is one precious thing I’ve been taking for granted?

• Where can you find the strength to face your shadows?

There's a particular kind of quiet that descends after a big change - perhaps after leaving a job or ending a relationship. The kind of hush where you can hear your own pulse thrumming and the sound of floorboards underfoot. It's the sound of being alone with yourself again, shedding an old skin.

Inevitably, the question arises: What new skin will be unveiled when the old one sloughs off?

As I navigated the pages of Whellis’ book, I came across a concept that resonated deeply:

"Identity is the integration of behavior"

It made me think about the ways we change and adapt, sometimes without even realizing it. How often do we truly reflect on the shifts in our identity?

The truth is, real change is rarely a simple act of will.

Lasting transformation is an incremental process of rewiring neural connections, interrogating beliefs, building new psychic and behavioral infrastructure from the inside out.

It requires brutal honesty about our unconscious patterns and defense mechanisms. It mandates leaning into spaces of profound discomfort to do the hard work of reprogramming the self. The process is deeply unsexy - more of a slow slog than an Eat Pray Love epiphany. But it imbues meaning into the "T word" we all seem to encounter at some point: trauma, whether big or small, an inevitability no life escapes.

But it is so worth it, ultimately. For beneath all our layers of created identity lies another self, waiting to emerge. It takes patience, courage, and a curiosity to be perpetually evolving - sloughing off what no longer fits to make space for our new becoming.

Across many wisdom traditions, from buddhism to christianity, suffering is seen as not only inevitable, but a sacred catalyst for awakening the human soul. Across these traditions, while the specific frameworks differ, there is a common thread - suffering presents an opportunity to transform, to access opportunities for growth that can't emerge from comfort zones alone.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

This sharing is not a voyeuristic impulse to publicly dissect my struggles. I believe that simply opening up can be helpful in and of itself - because if it makes even one reader feel less alone, we all win.

But my deeper intent is to share some practical lessons I'm learning on this human journey, hoping they may resonate and help you move forward too.

• I'm learning to listen to my body - a lesson that has evaded me for far too long. It started with breath work: I love the « Breathe » app. It is as simple as it gets and yet it has been instrumental in helping me stay grounded when panic attacks emerge.

• I'm learning what is truly important in life: I was disappointed in myself for letting a work issue impact me so profoundly; my life is so much richer than that, I am so much more than that. I activated a circle of special caring friends, some of which I had not seen in years, what a blessing. I dedicated more time helping others too - a fabulous antidote to self absorption.

• I'm learning the virtue of patience, forcing myself not to act upon discomfort immediately, not to always be in « reactive mode ».

• I'm learning to be vulnerable: as I prepare to begin a new chapter, a multitude of questions and doubts keep me up at night.2 I couldn't confront all of this turmoil alone; no one can. It's pretentious and delusional to think otherwise. So I decided to open up and be vulnerable… with professionals. It's immensely difficult for me to trust virtual strangers enough to reveal my darkest thoughts and fears...but I took that leap of faith. Getting a counselor / coach / therapist can be daunting. Quite often we fixate on the question  « is this person the right fit for me? ». My 2 cents on the question: don’t waste too much time on finding the right fit. It can make you lose so much time and defocus you from the actual work you’re trying do do. Trust the process.

  Friendly reminder: you’re not looking for a new friend.

• … And with the support of others, I'm learning to trust myself - to heed my intuition's whispers and let my voice ring out, unobstructed. What a wonderful, if challenging, journey of self-reclamation this is.

I wish for you to also experience intense emotions and profound introspection, because in the end, this interior life is the most precious gift we've been given.

With Swag and love,

Steph