Bury the Hatchet
Trauma, especially interpersonal neglect and abuse, can leave us expecting an attack from all sides. While some people may respond to this by becoming universally passive, others may find themselves quick on the draw with both defensive and offensive strategies. Basically, they're always ready for a fight and when they feel threatened, they can't seem to recognize a friendly face. Arguments with them seem to have no boundaries, no holds are barred, and dirty fighting is the rule.
I remember once getting advice from my father that so much of professional fighting is artificial. He said that in a real fight, a street fight, where your life is actually on the line, there is no such thing as sportsmanship or dirty fighting. You go for the eyes, the throat, any other tender or vulnerable spots you can find, and whatever else you need to do in order to survive. Pretty brutal perspective to hear as a 6-year-old. I'm kidding. I don't actually remember how old I was but the lesson and the personal anecdotes he shared at the time have stuck with me since then and I think have somewhat shaped my own view of others and my place in the world.
That’s the unspoken rule that trauma teaches us; the attack is imminent and can come from anywhere or anyone, so pull out every weapon that you've got and fight to the death. Our trauma makes us experts at seeing whatever it was that hurt us; we can see the danger where others can’t, and we are so good at seeing it that we can see it when it’s not even there. Sometimes that strategy is necessary. Some parts of this world are cold, lonely, and unforgiving, especially when you are alone.
That strategy backfires spectacularly, however, once you are back in civilization, and particularly when you are in a loving and vulnerable relationship. We use weapons there too, but they are usually made of words, gestures, and expressions. In a loving relationship, most of these weapons should be kept holstered, put aside, locked away, and some should be buried entirely. Not that we can’t disagree or even argue and not that we can’t stand up for ourselves, but, like boxing, we agree beforehand to a set of rules that allows there to be an afterward, when we can be friends again.
Truly loving someone means that we know how to hurt them but choose to comfort them instead. Even when we may feel hurt by them, we choose to trust in their good heart and good intentions, or at least in their willingness to learn from their mistakes. We choose to see them as a whole, not just as the snapshot of their worst moment. This is when trust matters the most, actually. This is when forgiveness means the most, when we refuse to let our past injuries be the cause for losing hope in current relationships.
