Survivors of Childhood Trauma and the Pandemic

The uncertainty and hardship created by the COVID-19 pandemic has cloaked even the hardiest souls with a persistent cloud of apprehension and anxiety.  As survivors of childhood trauma, we have endured the same fears as nearly everyone else on the planet.

But our reactions are unique—we respond differently to the threats that confront us from an uncertain and sometimes hostile world.

These threats often trigger hidden fears that originate in the young, wounded places of our souls, causing us to respond, sometimes unknowingly, with the same emotions and actions that served us during our younger years. Especially if these early memories remain unresolved and unhealed.

When COVID descended in March 2019, I was already emotionally depleted from a difficult season of relational loss and heartache (something I will probably write about in future blog posts). So when the threat of contagion ignited all my hyper-vigilant defenses, I scrambled to protect myself and my household from infection. This may have been your response as well.

Readers of my memoir, She’s Still In There, are familiar with Little Lisa, the haunted younger self I carried inside my identity long into my adulthood. Little Lisa made a strong appearance during the pandemic. Even after all these years of healing, I could still hear the fear-driven voice of my past urging me to take control of everything that threatened my security:

• Stay on top of all news reporting on the pandemic. Follow all guidelines.
• Lock down your life so that you are no longer in physical contact with anyone.
• Become conscious of everything you touch or that touches you. Wash and disinfect everything.
• Monitor your physical health for any evidence of illness.
• Fret as much as possible over every cough, ache, or sneeze that comes from your body.
• It’s up to you, and you alone, to make sure that you don’t get sick or spread the illness to anyone else.

The good news is that I caught myself in the act and self-corrected my responses so that I didn’t regress into the unhealthy thinking patterns of my past. How was I able to do that this time when I had failed at it so many times before?

I remembered.

I retraced the journey I made so long ago and the beautiful ways that God soothed and healed the young places in my soul. I began to recollect and write about these memories and include them in my book manuscript. I allowed God to bring these memories into my prayers and heard his voice once again, the same voice that spoke to Little Lisa:

• You are not responsible for the big things in your life—I am.
• I am always with you. You are never alone.
• My unfailing love is capable of covering you and protecting you.
• My love extends to the people around you. You don’t have to worry about them.
• Even if you become ill, I am with you and have the power to restore you to health.

God’s loving voice settled me and gave me so much peace, reminding me that healing from painful childhood trauma is possible.

One message, however, still rumbled through my thoughts like faraway thunder—even if.  

 Even if means that what I fear still might come to pass. Even if has been a big problem for me.

I have interpreted many painful situations as evidence that God must not care about me very much. So when I actually contracted coronavirus a year later (as did my  husband Greg), I felt a spasm of betrayal.

How could you let this happen to me? I’ve been so vigilant! Is it your intention that I suffer?

As it turned out, God lovingly ignored my accusations and I survived COVID just fine after about three weeks of misery. Little Lisa sometimes cries out to be heard, but God never leaves her all alone. He never did.

God’s healing of my young soul has ushered in a peace and quiet confidence for which I will forever be grateful. Below is an excerpt from She’s Still In There, that summarizes this feeling:

I like my little girl now. Little Lisa is the one who shows up when I am ready to experience joy. She accompanies me on my travels into the woods and my walks along the ocean…I remember her as she was before the sadness came—her curiosity, her quick mind, her unfettered joy, her carefree spirit. I love her openness, how she wasn’t self-conscious at all. How she ran and played and laughed. Her heart brimmed with innocent wonder.

Two months after COVID, Greg and I ventured out on an eight-week, cross-country trek to see America and visit some dear friends and family. One of our stops was the beautiful hill country of Tennessee, a setting that strongly resembles my childhood home in Maryland. In the green, grassy woods that grew around our friend’s house, Little Lisa came out to play. She showed up when the lightening bugs emerged like magical floating lamps, winking over the lawn in the humid evening air. I remembered how she used to collect them in empty mayonnaise jars with holes poked in the lid. She would turn the jar and study them with infinite curiosity.

The warm evening breeze that carried this lovely thought lingered, unstained by any other events that may have happened during that long ago time. In the evening twilight, all that remained was the joy. I sat awhile with her on the front porch, reveling in the moment, my soul young, free, and full of peace.