Is trauma spelled with a “Capitol T”?

Is “Trauma” Spelled with a Capital T?

It sure feels like it is. Sometimes, trauma doesn’t just feel like a capital “T”—it feels like bold, all-caps, flashing text, impossible to ignore as we navigate the pain, memories, and effects it leaves on our bodies and minds. Trauma doesn’t just visit; it often takes up residence, shaping the way we see the world and respond to it, even long after the event itself.

My own life has been marked by layers of trauma. From the sexual abuse I endured as a child to the heart-wrenching loss of my son Dylan to suicide this past Father’s Day, grief and pain have been constant companions. Layer in my journey through adoption, where I made the difficult decision to place three children for adoption, and the unexpected physical and emotional scars of an accident that injured me and my dogs—it all feels like too much to carry.

But trauma has a way of surprising us. Sometimes, we think we’ve moved past it, only to discover its fingerprints all over the way we live. For years, I didn’t recognize that my hypervigilance and panic attacks were signs of undiagnosed PTSD, rooted in sudden loss and intensified by further tragedy. I thought PTSD was reserved for soldiers or people who had experienced extreme violence, not for someone like me.

It wasn’t until I found myself unable to leave my home, too paralyzed by fear to even walk my pugs, Parker and Winston, or get the mail, that I realized how deeply trauma had embedded itself in my body. Therapy taught me that trauma doesn’t just live in your head—it lives in your cells. It hides in the muscles that flinch at loud noises and the breath that catches at sudden movements. It doesn’t go away by ignoring it.

Healing from trauma doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time, patience, and a willingness to uncover the things we’d rather bury. For me, it took baby steps—reminding myself that I was safe, learning to breathe deeply again, and grounding myself in the present moment. Slowly, I started to come back to life.

But there’s a hard truth I had to face: you can’t heal what you don’t name. Some traumas are buried so deep, they’ve become part of us, and we mistake that state of fear or sadness for “normal.” It’s only when we look inward, dig deep, and face the pain we’ve been avoiding that we can truly begin to heal.

So, I ask you this: What traumas are you still carrying, buried so deep that they feel like a part of who you are? What would happen if you gave yourself permission to uncover them, to sit with the hurt, and to finally set it free?

Healing is messy. It’s hard. It’s scary. But it’s also possible. And no matter how loud your trauma feels—whether it’s a quiet whisper or a bold, capital “T”—you are not alone in this journey. You can heal.

The first step? Start by asking yourself: What is it time to unbury?