Imagine a garden.
Some parts are flourishing. Others have grown wild, with tangled roots, overgrown paths, and plants that have struggled to find enough light. There may be areas that have been carefully tended over the years while others have received very little attention. Maybe there are even places we’ve stopped visiting altogether.
I sometimes think of our inner lives in the same way.
We carry experiences that have shaped us; some we understand well and others that remain difficult to make sense of. There are aspects of ourselves we are comfortable sharing, and others we prefer to keep private. There may be memories we revisit fondly, feelings we struggle to acknowledge, and patterns of responding that seem to emerge almost without our awareness.
For people who have experienced trauma, this inner landscape can sometimes feel particularly complicated. The garden offers one way of thinking about why.
Gardens are shaped by their environments. Soil quality, sunlight, water availability, and the changing seasons all influence what grows and how.
Our environments shape our lives, too. The relationships we grow up in, the experiences we encounter, and the resources available to us can influence how we understand ourselves and the world.
When we experience something overwhelming, particularly when we have little control over what happens or limited access to support, we may develop ways of responding that help us endure it. Perhaps we become unusually attentive to changes in other people’s moods, learn to anticipate problems before they arise, become fiercely independent, reluctant to rely on others, or skilled at putting aside our own needs. These adaptations may serve an important purpose.
For example, a child who learns to stay quiet to avoid conflict may be responding quite intelligently to an environment where speaking up carries consequences. Yet the same response may become difficult in adulthood, particularly when the person finds themselves unable to express disagreement, even in relationships where doing so would be safe.
What once helped us navigate our circumstances may not always serve us in the same way later in life. This is something I find important to remember when thinking about trauma: not every response that creates difficulties in the present began as a problem. Some began as attempts to cope with difficult circumstances.
Parts of the garden we rarely visit
Sometimes, we learn to keep certain experiences outside our immediate awareness. We might avoid thinking about something painful, minimize the significance of what happened, or become so preoccupied with everyday responsibilities that we don’t notice how we’re feeling.
For some people, these responses become familiar ways of navigating life. We may appear capable, independent, and composed while struggling with our feelings. This doesn’t mean that we have two separate selves. Rather, our experiences may be compartmentalized to varying degrees. We might be more aware of certain feelings in some situations than in others.
In some trauma-related conditions, dissociation can involve more pronounced disruptions in how experiences, memories, and aspects of identity are integrated. However, trauma doesn’t affect everyone in the same way, and not everyone who has experienced trauma develops dissociative symptoms.
What interests me about the garden metaphor is the possibility that there are parts of our experience we have learned not to approach because they evoke painful memories, or because we don’t know what to do with the feelings that arise. There could have been times when focusing our attention elsewhere allowed us to continue with the demands of everyday life.
Rather than asking why we haven’t tended to these areas, it may be worth considering what made staying away from them necessary or useful in the first place.
When the weather changes
A garden doesn’t exist independently of the weather. Calm days, periods of intense heat, heavy rainfall, and storms can arrive unexpectedly. Our emotional lives have their own changing conditions too. We experience joy, grief, anger, fear, disappointment, and excitement as we move through life. These changes are part of being human.
For people who have experienced trauma, certain situations can evoke emotional or physiological responses that feel more intense than the present circumstances seem to warrant. A particular tone of voice, an unexpected change in someone’s behavior, or a feeling of being trapped might evoke a powerful sense of danger, even when the current situation differs from the past.
However, other responses may be less obvious. Instead of feeling frightened, someone might become numb, disconnected, unusually compliant, or unable to think clearly. These experiences can be confusing, especially when we understand intellectually that we’re no longer in the same situation. Yet our responses aren’t shaped by conscious reasoning alone.
Previous experiences can influence what we notice, anticipate, and interpret as threatening. Of course, not every emotional storm is connected to trauma. We also respond to real present difficulties, accumulated stress, exhaustion, and ordinary disappointment.
Still, when certain reactions repeat themselves, particularly in situations that feel familiar in ways we struggle to explain, they may be worth exploring. Understanding what contributes to a response can help us relate to it differently.
What does it mean to tend to a garden?
When we encounter an overgrown garden, we may be tempted to clear away the experiences we don’t want. However, gardening requires more than removing weeds or cutting back branches. It involves understanding growing conditions, when some plants need more sunlight or shade. Certain areas need attention; others are best left undisturbed for a time.
Our internal experiences deserve a similar degree of consideration. When we notice ourselves becoming anxious, withdrawing from someone, or reacting strongly to a seemingly ordinary situation, our first impulse may be to criticize ourselves: Why am I like this? Why can’t I just move on? Why do I keep responding this way?
These questions are understandable, particularly when our reactions interfere with the lives we want to lead.
However, they can also narrow our understanding. We may become so focused on changing the response that we overlook the circumstances in which it developed, the function it may serve, or what we need.
A more useful question might be: What has this response been helping me manage?
This doesn’t mean that every pattern needs to be accepted indefinitely. Meaningful change may involve learning to establish boundaries, tolerate difficult feelings, challenge familiar beliefs, or respond differently in relationships.
Understanding a response allows us to approach change with consideration. We can recognize that we adapted to our circumstances with the resources available to us, while acknowledging that we may need different ways of responding today.
Healing isn’t always about returning to what was
We often speak about healing as though it means returning to a previous version of ourselves. Tempting. Yet that idea doesn’t always capture the complexity of recovering from trauma. For some, they may not remember a time before the difficulties began. Others may have been profoundly changed by their experiences in ways that cannot be undone.
Even when painful symptoms lessen, our histories remain part of our lives.
Healing doesn’t have to mean restoring the garden to some imagined original condition. It can involve developing a different relationship with what has grown there. For one person, that could mean gradually becoming less fearful of their emotional experiences. For another, it might mean recognizing their limits, finding more satisfying relationships, or learning that they no longer have to respond to every situation as though danger is imminent.
Therapy can support this process by helping people make sense of their experiences, develop emotional and physiological regulation, and explore new ways of responding. In addition, healing can also be supported through relationships, community, or meaningful activities. There isn’t one prescribed way for a garden to flourish. Nor is there one way for a person to heal.
A final reflection
I like the garden metaphor because it reminds me that growth and difficulty can coexist. A garden may have areas of remarkable beauty alongside places that remain overgrown or neglected. A person can experience genuine happiness while struggling with the effects of painful experiences. We can develop new capacities without having resolved every difficulty. We can acknowledge how our past has shaped us without assuming it must determine everything about our future.
Tending to our inner gardens begins with understanding what’s growing there. Not every tangled root needs to be untangled, nor every storm prevented. Some parts of the garden require attention; others need time. We may discover that the conditions around us need to change, or that certain areas have become too difficult to tend to alone. There is no requirement to address everything at once. Even the parts of ourselves we struggle to understand have a history worth considering.
Until next time,
Zahra
Find more information about Trauma and Dissociation on the ISSTD Website.
