Read the full transcript of author Alicia Smith’s talk titled “A Guide To Resilience And Joy After Trauma” at TEDxUNCPembroke 2024 conference.
Listen to the audio version here:
TRANSCRIPT:
Unexpected Turns
ALICIA SMITH: Have you ever experienced a day that took a completely unexpected turn? I’m in the kitchen cleaning and wiping things down when suddenly I hear a loud noise that comes from my three-year-old’s room. I’m thinking, what has my beautiful, innocent little love done this time? I quickly run to her room, I walk through the door, and I see that all of her alphabetized books have been pulled off the shelves and are now scattered all over the floor like a tornado tore through a library.
Of course, I ask, “What happened?” And my sassy, quick-witted little girl gives me the most ingenious response, “I don’t know, I think it was Queen Barb.” Now Queen Barb isn’t her imaginary friend, but she is a character from the animated movie Trolls 2. You know Queen Barb, the bad guy.
Now after all this, what do you say when your child then says, “Mommy, since I didn’t make the mess, do I have to help clean it up?” I’m sure some of you parents have fictional characters living in your house, too.
A Different Door
Ten years before, I walked through a different kind of door, and this time the loud sounds I heard weren’t books falling to the floor, and when I looked around, I didn’t see a child filling my life with laughter and delight. I was 21 in college on a dance scholarship, living my best life.
I had been out with my friends on a typical warm and clear Arizona night. We had been at a large gathering that quickly became uncomfortable, so we decided to leave.
I opened the door of my friend’s car. As soon as I sat down, I heard a loud pop, pop.
It almost sounded like fireworks in the distance. Immediately the side of my abdomen began to burn, so I took my hand and I cupped it over the spot that was on fire. Something warm started to seep in between my fingers. During the late hours of that night, darkness filled the car, so I had to take my hand and bring it up to my face to see what it was. It was blood.
The odor of gunpowder filled the car, and it was that moment I realized I had been shot. My friend driving the car sped off to get me to the hospital as quickly as he could. When he stopped at the first red light, I managed to faintly utter, “You can’t stop. If you stop, I’m going to die.” So he picked up the pace, started running red lights, stop signs, weaving in and out of traffic like a NASCAR driver trying to save my life.
I found out that I had a less than 1% chance of survival when I initially arrived at the hospital that night, because not only had I been shot through the liver, but I had been shot through the liver with an AK-47. I had randomly been caught in the crossfire between two rival gangs.
The Aftermath
I had 15 abdominal surgeries in the span of three months, which left me immobile, subjecting me to physical, mental, and emotional torture. The torment slowly but ferociously crept its way through every nook and cranny of what was left of my frail 85-pound body, leaving me feeling numb, helpless, and as though I may have been better off dead. Because the moment I was shot was the moment I lost any recognition of the person I had been before, a vibrant, fearless, outgoing, independent young woman and dancer full of life and self-reliance with her whole life ahead of her.
When I became clear-minded enough in the hospital to start to form thoughts, I started contemplating what my life might look like now. I wondered, could I go back to my old self and regain some sense of normalcy? The struggle with these thoughts kept me in a deep and pervasive feeling of worthlessness and overwhelming despair. People had been assuring me that I could go back to the life that I once had. I was told I’d be okay, but I didn’t feel okay.
A Different Perspective
Then one day during my recovery, my mom offered me a different, ingenious thought. And she said, “I don’t know what you’re going through, but I do know that if you continue down this path you’re on, it is going to make you a bitter person.” In that moment, I knew I had to get my life back on track. I didn’t want to be angry or bitter, and I was determined to not let this disrupt or control my life anymore.
I genuinely believed that if I just worked hard enough, I could go back to the person that I once was. So I went back to college. I completed my studies and I graduated. Yes, it gave me back structure, routine, a sense of independence, but shortly after I graduated I found myself unable to actually pursue the career I had gone to college for, and my dreams of becoming a professional dancer were gone.
So I began intensive therapy. Therapy provided me with numerous coping mechanisms and strategies as I spent years trying to manage and address my anxiety, depression, and PTSD. And as a way to navigate and process my many unpredictable emotions, I wrote a book detailing my experience and shortly thereafter began to receive invitations to share my story all over the country, but none of these experiences brought me back to my former self.
Over time, I came to the hard realization that my path in life had shifted. I struggled with what this altered trajectory would now be. I had to reassess my life goals, ambitions, and whole sense of self. Seventy percent of adults will encounter some type of trauma during their lifetime. Experiencing trauma doesn’t mean you have to be at war or be a survivor of a drive-by shooting.
Trauma can be divorce, disease, neglect, even observing a loved one go through trauma themselves. Anything that causes major change can be traumatic, and when we believe or we are told that we can go back to who we were, we’re lying to ourselves.
Acceptance and Growth
All of this took many, many years, but it led me to the idea that when we understand and accept our new self after trauma, then we can grow and we can take action towards living a more healthy life. This idea is how I fought back and what ultimately enabled me to genuinely begin progressing forward in my life.
I discovered that I had to accept who and where I was right then. It was painful and difficult, but it was my reality. This kind of acceptance helps us create the space for the healing we so desperately need. I realized that with the understanding of this new reality, I had to change my perspective on things.
When we adapt to these changes in our lives, it allows us to take control of our narrative instead of feeling victimized by it because we don’t have to fall victim to our circumstances. I learned that the human experience is about continual growth, or as Abraham Maslow calls it, self-actualization, which is about becoming the best we can be. If we want to be healthy, we will do what it takes to grow. Trauma can be that powerful catalyst for personal growth, but that cannot happen when we are fighting to go back to the life we used to have.
We don’t have to be who we were. We have the opportunity to be someone new. The person I used to be didn’t have to live with memories of a liver aneurysm or get heart palpitations because a door slammed too loud. The person I used to be enjoyed the 4th of July fireworks.
The person I used to be had all of her colon and ribs and did not have the digestive tract of an 80-year-old. Trauma changes us, doesn’t it? Learning from it is a complex and individualized process that only happens after acknowledging its impact and taking action. When you or a loved one has experienced a day that took a completely unexpected turn, I want us to undertake the challenging task of recognizing and embracing this new course.
Supporting Trauma Survivors
When I work with people, they usually ask me, “So if you can’t just tell someone everything is going to be okay, what do you do?” I want to share four key steps that I find essential.
Show up. Be there when they need you. Call. Text. Silent presence is healing.
Listen. According to research, about 75% of people who enter talk therapy benefit just from having someone to talk to. So, create an environment for someone to talk without expectation or judgment.
Inquire. The goal here is to ask questions that help identify different aspects of the problem in an unbiased way, help someone see the multiple perspectives.
Support. Support by accepting their decisions, whether you agree with them or not, and encourage behaviors to overcome challenges.
We all can do this. On our journey of self-acceptance, remember, healing doesn’t mean forgetting your trauma.
It’s about finding a way to coexist with it, a way that allows us to embrace change, gain inner strength, and empowers us to lead a life filled with happiness and joy. So, as we leave here today, and we all journey through the countless doors in our lives, let’s have the courage to bid farewell to our past selves and welcome a new chapter, where acceptance of change becomes our greatest triumph.
