A Marker Story

An Experience that Changes Everything

In Ellen Blum Barish’s webinar, “Writing Trauma Without Retraumatizing Yourself,” she described trauma as “too much to process with too few resources.” Participants discussed the distinction between acute, chronic, and complex trauma, and how survival strategies become ways of life. Ellen’s web site offers valuable guidance on personal writing. I’ve found her blog, workshops, and particularly her Guides page to be useful in my own writing process.  

In the abovementioned workshop, we were invited to recall a marker story—an experience that changes everything that comes after—and we did some writing. There is a three-part structure or container: the before; the pivotal moment; and the after. This is a rather direct way to begin telling one’s personal trauma story.

Here is a powerful telling of a marker story by Heather Kirn Lanier. It went viral when it was published, and now the source is archived. In Superbabies Don’t Cry the author gives birth to a baby with a genetic syndrome. Heather characterizes the striving for perfection throughout pregnancy, and describes the pivotal moment, the painful revelation of her daughter’s health issue, in visceral detail. The gut punches (plural) come in the aftermath, as the family navigates the medical complex… with a particular line that stands out for me. I encourage you to read it and observe both the bravery of her storytelling and your internal responses to it. I’m left thinking there is resiliency… and then there is extraordinary resiliency. I’m left feeling sympathy, gratitude, and also echoing mystification. We know this story doesn’t end with its last line, but the lives portrayed continue to live out this drama.

How do we guard against getting retraumatized while we’re writing about painful moments?

I could compare writing tough stuff to a cold plunge. Why would I want the elements of nature to shock me? How could such a shock be relaxing? I’m thinking about one of several plunges I took in Lake Michigan in winter. With air temp 47ºF and water temp 25ºF, it takes mental gymnastics for mind to conquer matter.

My protective mechanism says, “No, don’t take off your clothes,” but the desire to remove all barriers is stronger than the resistance. I remove my socks and feel the acupressure of cold stones (earth) on my feet. I let my robe fall. I move through one cold medium (air) into a colder one (water). Against the protestations of my hesitant inner voice, I walk into the water. A cascade of reactions begins. My lungs and other muscles jolt awake and launch rockets through my nerves. My mind must keep steady at the helm and drive me forward, inward, downward, deeper, until I’m ready (and at the same time, not ready) to plunge up to my shoulders. I only cold plunge on sunny days, so the element of fire supports the ritual. Turning toward the sun helps.

The desire is stronger than the resistance.

This physical challenge is repeated when I attempt to excavate difficult material. When I write, the outer world melts away. I’m acutely aware of what’s going on inside my body: interoception. Not just heartrate and respiration, but cogitation, default mode network, visuals pulsing… Thoughts come in waves; waves translate to signals that command the movement of my pen. More than sentences, writers make meaning. We create stories and package them so we can give our understanding to another person like a gift.

Writing is a solo activity, yet it has the power to bond us, through storytelling.

David Hochman, the generous host of Upod Academy, introduced the acronym SOYCaTs: stories only you can tell. This term has stuck with me. (Upod is a writing resource for freelancers, and a community of writers I’m glad I patched into.)

In The Shrieking Cactus Substack (1/10/24), Joy V. wrote, “Trauma is a wedge.” She astutely pointed out that the experience of trauma disrupts our sense of belonging and connection. “I felt overwhelmingly alone, even with loved ones in the same room with me… It felt like a jagged triangular slab of concrete that was slowly slicing off my connections to the world.”

We know that if writing our story helps us feel not so alone, then likely the readers of our stories, too, will realize they aren’t alone. Writing and sharing a marker story, because it comes with the risk of having a reader misinterpret or skew the facts and the fallout, can feel like balancing the rare and fragile gem that is your persona on a cliff. A trauma-sensitive editor understands this.

Your trauma story may be a SOYCaT, but it has the potential to heal others.

PRE-WRITING PRACTICE: Meditation, breathwork, yoga, and voicework prior to making art are used to enter flow states. A relaxed body and centered focus help expression freely come out, in whatever medium you choose. Before embarking on a creative session where you’ll tap into memories or subjects that may be emotionally challenging, cultivate a sense of safety in your body and calm in the atmosphere.

Since different techniques work for different people, it may take experimentation to find the most effective pre-writing rituals. Whether contact with nature, aromatherapy, intentional movement, or writing a gratitude list (for example) help you, when you are feeling safe, take a snapshot of how that feels in your body, mind, and spirit. By the same token, how your body feels when you’re ill-at-ease is equally important to memorize, so you can become familiar with your personal signals, and respond with solutions.

You might find yourself writing through waves of rage, grief, remorse, longing, or fear. Do you have a support person you can reach when you’re overwhelmed? A post-writing ritual of self-care, calming, and settling can be set up in advance, and is recommended. Again, this may look different for each individual.

WRITING PROMPT: On the left margin of your page, write these 7 words, each with a few blank line spaces after, so you have room to write or type.

SELF

NEIGHBORS

NEIGHBORHOOD

TOWN

STATE

COUNTRY

WORLD

The central problem of your story, which has affected you, also sent a ripple outward in widening concentric circles.

The marker story that affected you also sent a ripple outward in widening concentric circles.

Write a few sentences after each word in the margin about how your experience relates your intimate relationships, your community, and the world at-large. All of your guesses are valid. You might discover leads to where an interview or research is called for. We each are living litmus tests for the health of the planet. Every family is a microcosm of the world. Try to articulate how your story matters beyond your family. Look up headlines, top songs, and other cultural, historical background details that were in the zeitgeist while you were experiencing events at the personal level. It can be nourishing and affirming to realize one’s connection to humankind through writing.