Let’s start by burning the rulebook.

The idea that your suffering has to meet some arbitrary, cinematic standard of violence to “count” as trauma is the most pervasive and damaging lie in mental health.

Trauma is not a contest. There is no panel of judges. There is no threshold of “bad enough” you must cross to have your pain taken seriously. The only expert on your experience is your own nervous system. And for years, it has been telling you a story your mind was taught to ignore. It’s time to learn how to listen.

You’ve been on a quest for an answer. You have a collection of confusing, seemingly disconnected symptoms: chronic anxiety, gut issues that no diet can fix, a bone-deep fatigue that sleep doesn’t touch, sensory sensitivities that seem to get worse every year, and a brain fog that makes simple tasks feel monumental. You’ve been to doctors who have run the tests, told you your bloodwork is “fine,” and hinted that it might just be stress. You’ve wondered if you’re a hypochondriac, or if you’re just not resilient enough. You know something is wrong, but you don’t have a single, catastrophic event to point to as the cause, so you tell yourself, “It wasn’t that bad.”

The psychiatric world handed us a false and violent binary: “Big T” Trauma (war, assault, a horrific accident) and “little t” trauma (everything else). This isn’t just an unhelpful distinction; it’s a scientifically inaccurate tool of invalidation. It has been used for decades to dismiss the profound, cumulative, and biological impact of emotional neglect, chronic criticism, bullying, systemic oppression, and growing up in a home where your emotional needs were not met.

Trauma (The Enlitens Definition):

Trauma is not the event itself. It is the lasting, adaptive response of the nervous system to any experience or environment that was too much, too fast, or too soon for it to handle. It is a biological injury, not a psychological weakness.

Your body is not just a passive witness to your life; it is an active record-keeper. You were born with a genetic blueprint—your DNA. But your life experiences, especially in childhood, act as a general contractor, deciding which parts of that blueprint to use.

This process is called epigenetics.

Think of your genes as the keys on a massive piano. Trauma and chronic stress don’t change the keys themselves, but they place “sticky notes” on them called DNA methylation tags. These tags tell your system which keys to play more often and which to silence. A stressful childhood can leave methylation tags on genes that regulate your stress response (like the glucocorticoid receptor gene), essentially telling your body to stay on high alert, to be more sensitive to threat, for the rest of your life. This isn’t a memory you can forget; it’s a biological instruction written onto your hardware.

A nervous system stuck on high alert is a system flooded with stress hormones like cortisol. For short-term danger, this is a brilliant survival mechanism. But when the stress is chronic—from an invalidating parent, a chaotic home, or a hostile school environment—it’s like flooring the gas pedal of a car for years without a break.

The engine begins to break down. This breakdown is chronic inflammation and oxidative stress.

This isn’t just happening in your joints or your gut; it’s happening in your brain. This neuroinflammation is a low-grade, smoldering fire that disrupts how your brain cells communicate. And what are the symptoms of a brain on fire? Brain fog, fatigue, memory problems, sensory sensitivities, and emotional dysregulation—the very traits that are often labeled as ADHD or autism.

OLD MYTH: “You’re just being too sensitive. It wasn’t that bad.”

REBELLIOUS REFRAME: “My biology doesn’t lie. My symptoms are the data that proves it was that bad.”

You have been searching for a single story to justify your suffering. The science shows us that is the wrong place to look. The trauma is not in the story; it is in the physiological adaptation. Your body’s current state—the anxiety, the fatigue, the brain fog—is not a sign of your weakness. It is the logical, biological footprint of the environment your nervous system was forced to endure. It is the data that proves your experience was real and that it absolutely “counts.”

Stop minimizing your history. Start listening to your biology. The work of trauma recovery is not about endlessly reliving the past; it is about learning to give your nervous system the profound safety it needs to finally convince the foreman to remove the sticky notes and put out the fire. It is about healing a physical, biological injury. When you are ready to start that work, we are here.