You never know someone’s story just by looking at them.
I was waiting outside a tire shop. My car had a flat, but I was sure they would try to convince me I needed four completely new tires and a rotation and a new axle, and a flux capacitor. That’s the game. Two older men were chattering near me in masks. They were either old friends or had become instant besties. That makes sense. The tire shop can be a magical place.
One man lowered his voice and started sharing about his wife. It seemed serious, so I pretended to play on my phone while leaning in closer. They were married for over 30 years. Every night in bed, she would get cold and would back up to him for warmth or steal his part of the blankets. But one night, this didn’t happen. He turned to check on her and she was cold and lifeless. She died in her sleep.
I couldn’t breathe as I stared at my phone. The tire shop-bestie was also in shock. He kept saying, “oh my God” and “I’m sorry.” We were witnessing something profound and moving and life-altering.
If you saw this man at Starbucks or on the street, you would think he was perfectly put together. Perfectly happy. Perfectly plain. But underneath, he carried an earth-shattering story of trauma and pain.
Think About The Number of Stories
As I write this, there have been around 2.5 million deaths from Covid in the past year. Numbers are horrible storytellers. If you’re like me, you glaze over them. But each number represents a story. That’s 2.5 million stories of a goofy, lovable uncle not able to tell jokes to his niece or a gardening grandma not at Christmas next year.
We hear percentages of job-loss and it’s hard to grasp. Each statistic is a dad of 2 kids, putting on a brave face while terrified inside. Or a lady on the brink of retirement, summoning the humility to apply for a minimum wage job.
This has been a year of pain and trauma. We put on brave faces, but internally we carry devastating stories. We have experienced a global dose of collective trauma to a level most of us have never known.
However, amid this incredible amount of pain, there is good news.
Post-Traumatic Growth
In the mid-1990s, psychologists Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun introduced a theory called “Post-Traumatic Growth” or PTG. Post-traumatic growth explains the transformation that can come after a struggle with trauma. Every major psychological battle can lead to positive change afterward.
This is not a new concept. Throughout human history, we see examples of people growing and transforming after horrible circumstances. But this theory declares hope and potential for us all. It emphasizes that all is not lost. There is light on the other side of the darkness.
Tedeschi and Calhoun name five areas of transformation that we can hope to experience.
1. Appreciation of Life
I was talking to a college coach last week, and he said the phrase, “I’m excited to go back to the way things were, but we can’t go back to the way we used to be. We have to appreciate the meals with people and the sports games and the everyday stuff.”
Exactly. Sports games are not a right, they are a gift. A lovely dinner at your favorite restaurant is a bonus. What if, for the rest of our lives, we marked our year of Covid as the time when we stopped taking everything for granted? Imagine if we relished each popcorn-filled movie theatre. Each blue-skied baseball game. Each in-breath.
2. Relationships with Others:
I’m one of those weird introvert people. Staying home has never been hard for me. Initially, the shelter in place orders were like a principal telling introverts that school was out. We had permission to go introvert-wild! Headphones and books and house-shoes and zero mingling at parties. Introverts salivate over such things.
But I changed. I missed people. I missed coffee hangs and laughing in person. I was reminded that we are social and relational beings.
To thrive, we need to share our lives and serve others and laugh and eat and drink. We need to spill our guts. Relationships are not optional, they are essential. Maybe the biggest growth for some of us will be to prioritize people over a new Netflix series.
3. New Possibilities in Life:
The essence of creativity is to solve a problem in a fresh way. Turbulent times force us to think differently. One of my best friends lives in Chicago. We’ve always dreamed of creating things together. It was the pain of this year that pushed us to start video-chatting each week. Through this weekly rhythm, a podcast was born, along with several other projects in the works.
Change is scary, but when we move beyond fear, we see new paths and opportunities. Trauma breaks us. But afterward, we can rebuild a new reality with the broken pieces. What if last year gives us the fuel to start something new, or to pivot in a different direction?
4. Personal Strength:
My kids have taught me about strength. We worried how they would react to school closing or mask-wearing or social-distancing. It’s not been easy, but they adapted each step of the way. Kids are stronger than we think, and so are we.
When we reflect on a tragedy, we realize that if I can make it through this, I can make it through anything. We can adapt and pick ourselves up. We can rebuild.
5. Spiritual Change:
Being a pastor, this is my favorite. I hope that our collective pain and trauma will drive us deeper. That we would see profound meaning in our suffering. I hope we understand life is more than markets and profits and politics. It’s a miracle. We are a miracle. We are more than bodies and professionals and commuters and numbers. We are spirit and soul.
The Path To Growth
Thankfully, post-traumatic growth often occurs naturally for those willing to become more aware and look deeper. But there are a few ways to instigate the growth.
Don’t Avoid or Minimize.
This is the biggest mistake we can make. Growth and strength do not mean pretending the pain is not real. Avoidance produces the opposite effect that we want. It seeks to get past the trauma without observing the root. The first step is to be brutally honest. To stare our pain in the eyes. To confess and name our experience.
Reflection.
Then, we take time to observe and ponder what we can learn from it. We journal and ruminate on our emotions and learnings. This is hard work. It’s easier to move on with our life instead of lingering in the hurt. But reflection speeds up growth. Socrates famously said, “the unexamined life is not worth living.”
Disclosure.
For some of us, this is the hardest part—being vulnerable. Most post-traumatic growth occurs internally, but there is something magical that occurs when we open up our wounds to share them with others.
This was the beautiful thing about the tire shop. Old men are not supposed to be vulnerable. They keep things bottled up and move on with life like John Wayne. But this man had done the work. He had examined and reflected, and now he was sharing the trauma.
He knew he was not alone, we’ve all got a story. We can smile and grin and bear and post curated photos online, but each one of us carries the weight of pain and trauma.
May this pain lead us to appreciation and possibilities.
May we evolve to become stronger.
May we unload our weight to others, allowing them to help carry the load.
May we look back at this last season, not just as a season of pain and pandemic, but a season of tremendous growth.
2 Comments
Awesome Adam. Thank you.
No, thank you for reading. Good to hear from you!