Samra Zafar is a doctor and psychiatry resident in Toronto. She is the author of Unconditional: Break Through Past Limits to Transform Your Future and A Good Wife: Escaping the Life I Never Chose.
I smelled the smoke before I saw the flames. My teenaged daughter was beside me – we’d fallen asleep in my bed cuddling while saying goodnight – so I knew she was safe, but we needed to get out. As we scrambled down the hall, I could see the flames engulfing her empty room. Instinctively, I tugged her bedroom door closed, limiting the spread of the flames. We didn’t stop to grab anything. No phones, purses, ID, coats.
Another scene, from months earlier: I was alone, clearing out a closet, when I came across an old passport. My teenaged face stared back at me, my photo next to the line listing my occupation as “housewife.” Memories flooded me from my years as a child-bride in a coerced, abusive marriage. I sank to the floor and sobbed.
If I asked you to select which of these two scenes represents the lingering effects of trauma, which would you choose? The answer is “both.”
We live in a culture full of stereotyped images of survivors of trauma lashing out or collapsing, as dangerous or pathetic. Even worse? When survivors do struggle, they’re often told they shouldn’t: as a survivor of intimate partner violence (IPV) myself I’ve been told many times I shouldn’t have any problems “because you’re not being abused now” – I should just move on.
Domestic violence is on the rise in Canada. Statistics Canada says police-reported IPV rose 13 per cent between 2018 and 2023, and family violence reports increased 17 per cent. It takes courage, planning, luck and support to escape abuse. But the ongoing effects of that trauma don’t end when the emotional, physical and sexual coercion stops. As The Lancet Psychiatry commission on IPV and mental health put it, “Exposure to intimate partner violence (IPV), whether in adulthood or in childhood, increases the likelihood of developing a range of mental health problems … [that] appear to occur across the lifespan …”
For the estimated four in 10 Canadians who are survivors of IPV, the one in three who experienced abuse as children, this might sound hopeless. But while trauma responses can be maladaptive, we can develop healthier responses with self-awareness, effort and professional guidance, especially when those around us – the two out of three Canadians who know a woman who has been abused, for instance – support those efforts.
It helps to understand how the brain responds to trauma. Our brains evolved to spot and avoid danger, gathering input from our senses to let us know something isn’t right. Flight, fight or freeze? Our primitive brain notices, and when things go well, our analytical brain assesses and lets us know whether to act or relax.
But when we’ve been subjected to repeated unpredictable trauma, our analytical brain may get caught in a loop of trying to create order out of chaos. You become preoccupied with figuring out what might start to burn. The flames of a partner’s anger may have flared on Monday because you spoke up. Tuesday? Because you were too quiet. Wednesday? The flames subside because you cooked a favourite meal. Thursday? They burn hot – because you cooked that favourite meal again.
And since our prefrontal cortex doesn’t fully mature until our mid-twenties, abuse experienced when we’re young is even less easily processed and understood than trauma we face as adults. Even trickier? Trauma’s training can sometimes save us, as it did when my flight reaction quickly kicked into gear during my actual housefire. But it can also cause hypervigilance. You’re like a firewatcher in a forest tower always scanning the horizon for smoke, afraid to turn away, sleep or relax. And of course, some trauma coping mechanisms – such as numbing with substances and other forms of self-harm – don’t have a helpful spin.
Survival comes first: supporting trauma victims non-judgmentally is critical. Isolation is the biggest ally of abuse, and a key reason abuse rates rose during the pandemic and have remained high: “stay home, stay safe” didn’t apply to IPV victims because home wasn’t safe. Non-judgmental support recognizes victims may take small faltering steps on their journey to safety: on average, it takes victims seven attempts before they leave their abuser for good. Offering unconditional support lets them know they can turn to you when they’re ready to make a change.
And after escape? We need to treat trauma responses – our own and other’s – with curiosity and kindness. Shame is counterproductive to healing. For survivors, that doesn’t mean obeying your trauma responses: you can hold space for the feelings and seek a healthier way to soothe them without falling into old patterns. Each time you do, you create new neural pathways in the brain and slowly change your trauma patterns into healthier ones. The responses that helped us survive may not help us thrive, but with self-compassion, courage, practice and help, we can change and reframe those responses into healthier patterns.
Trauma can break us. But we have the capacity to make art from those broken pieces. And when we’re successful? The credit rests not with the flames we’ve walked through, but with the survivors and those who support them on their journeys.