In two specific situations I realized the outcome was different. My therapist asked me what the difference was. Here was my short journey with parts to communicate a trauma experience.

Self-criticism is quick to respond with, “because I was an idiot in both situations, but I was a bigger idiot the first time.” Self-criticism gave me a quick swing of the baseball bat to my head, stabbed me in the thigh with a random object, and then left me curled up in the back of my head somewhere.

A slightly more reflective but still guarded version of myself snuck in quickly to give a verbal answer and yank me to my feet. “I’m not entirely sure.” This reflective part turned to me (Self) to ask what was different. That part likes me, and most of the time, I like it.

Shame started shouting loudly, poking me in the chest. It was standing over me and making sure I knew just how small and insignificant I am. Ugh. Shame is my enemy. Shame and self-criticism are best friends. Shame was trying to drown out any thinking, remembering, or potential to feel uncomfortable, unfamiliar pain. But shame was pulling my hair and reminding me I’m a screw up. I could feel myself shrinking back into silence. The self-criticism and shame tag team has me backed into a corner and were tying me to a chair. With what little self was left, I contemplated speaking the thought that had popped into my head. Now, I feel numb and silenced.

Thinking. Ah. My longest friend. Shame and self-criticism’s puppet. Thinking helps me to not feel. Thinking also gives self-criticism and shame a chance to take a quick nap before coming back fully charged. Thinking stands in the brain fog shouting to me. She pulls me further inward. She is mesmerizing. She is the lotus flower, and I am a lotus-eater (The Odyssey). When thinking arrives, I eat and she allows the feelings to dissipate until I no longer care.

But wait. Thinking is what I was supposed to be doing. Thinking is supposed to be here right now. The fog is clearing. Thinking is talking, but I see shame and self-criticism approaching. It is now or never. Listen to every word and say it out loud. Say. It. Aloud.

I hear my voice–Self’s voice. The difference between the two situations wasn’t about control as I had always assumed. In the first situation, everything was being done to me or “for me,” and I must’ve been stuck in freeze. The inner voice in that situation was confused and critical. I can’t make it stop. I must want this right now. In the second situation, I was being asked to do something to them or for them. My inner voice sounds much different in those situations. I don’t want to do this. I don’t like this. I am uncomfortable with this. This feels wrong. This needs to stop. In scenario one, I have only one reaction. I am stuck in freeze. In scenario two, I have the potential of two separate responses. I can speak up and make everything stop at once, or I fawn. Why do I fawn? Because I have always assumed I am selfish and in the wrong. I have never wanted to disappoint someone.

All parts, in that moment, stopped and stared at me. What in the H. E. Double hockey sticks was that? I felt as thought I was standing naked in my own brain. I was waiting for the lashes, ridicule, and screaming to start. But it was just jaw-dropped silence. Outwardly, I was also feeling exposed. I stole a glance at my therapist almost anticipating the same jaw-dropped silence I could feel from each part, but I didn’t see judgement or an impending tongue lashing.

“That makes sense.” The antithesis to freeze is motion. If I am frozen into allowing something to happen to me, I can’t just snap out of it. But if I am frozen and I am told to perform, someone–or something–is breaking the ice. Maybe I fawn and maybe I don’t, but I am no longer frozen. I have a choice, albeit one still strongly influenced by trauma.

The self-critical part and shame part are still firing insults at me. They think I am weak. They think I am choosing this. They think I should end my life to simultaneously end the misery of this endless loop. But they had to turn in their guns for knives today.