Injured But Inspired Tim

Grief has no religion, no tribe, no boundary it respects. It meets us the same way, heavy, uninvited, undeniable. And here, in this embrace, something sacred happens: pain stops asking who you are and begins to ask who you can be for each other. When sorrow is shared, it softens its edges, and in that quiet exchange, peace is not preached, it is felt. 🤍

fans
Prince Charles Dickson
Building Blocks for Peace Foundation
Harvard Hub
Centre for Community Actions for Peace and Development-CCAPAD
World Pulse
Emmanuel Ande Ivorgba
Journalism Communication and Media Centre —JCM Centre
Aliyu Alkasim
GlobalGiving
Shamusideen Lasisi
TEKAN Peace Desk
Plateau Multi Door Courthouse
Plateau Peace Building Agency
Nigeria Network of NGOs
CYPA Africa
Khalid Ahmad
Global Partnership for the Prevention of Armed Conflict
Safe House for Justice and Human Empowerment Centre
Government of Plateau State

I greatly appreciate these words from Dr Arielle Schwartz, "PTSD is never the fault of the individual but a failure of their environment."

That sums up the cause of PTSD and the reason we don't recover like we could if our environment actually supported our core biological needs instead of undermining them and telling us that our brain is broken and we need to think better thoughts.

That phrase gets thrown around a lot, and it sounds deep at first, but it’s vague, and can be harmful.

“Losing the identity you built around your pain” assumes that anything we developed in response to trauma is some kind of false self, something to be discarded. But from an Interpersonal Neurobiology (IPNB) lens, the identity you built around your pain wasn’t artificial; it was intelligent. It was your nervous system’s best attempt to survive, find meaning, and stay connected to *something* when everything else broke.

Healing doesn’t mean ripping out those parts. It means creating conditions where those survival strategies are no longer *necessary*. It means making room for new experiences--safe connection, self-trust, groundedness--not erasing what came before. The so-called “identity around your pain” often holds your fiercest truths, your deepest care, your fire, your boundary-setting, your refusal to be erased. Why would we want to lose that?

What people are often trying to say, clumsily, is that healing can expand your sense of self. That you’re not *only* the pain. But that doesn’t mean rejecting the version of you that adapted to survive. That part deserves reverence, not exile.

So no, you don’t have to “lose” anything. You get to integrate it. You get to become *more", not less.

When I was around 12, I carried a secret shame. We were so poor that I often went to school with no food. At recess, while my classmates opened their lunches apples, cookies, sandwiches.

I sat pretending I wasn’t hungry. I buried my face in a book, hiding the sound of my empty stomach. Inside, it hurt more than I can explain.

Then, one day, a girl noticed. Quietly, without making a fuss, she offered me half her lunch. I was embarrassed, but I accepted. The next day, she did it again. And again. Sometimes it was a roll, sometimes an apple, sometimes a piece of cake her mother baked.

To me, it was a miracle. For the first time in a long time, I felt seen.

Then one day, she was gone. Her family moved, and she never came back. Every day at recess, I’d glance at the door, hoping she would walk in and sit beside me with her smile and her sandwich. But she never did.

Still, I carried her kindness with me. It became part of who I was.

Years passed. I grew up. I thought of her often, but life went on.

Then, just yesterday, something happened that froze me in place. My young daughter came home from school and said:
“Dad, can you pack me two snacks tomorrow?”

“Two?” I asked. “You never finish one.”

She looked at me with the seriousness only a child can have:
“It’s for a boy in my class. He didn’t eat today. I gave him half of mine.”

I just stood there, goosebumps rising, time standing still.

In her small act, I saw that girl from my childhood. The one who fed me when no one else noticed. Her kindness hadn’t disappeared,it had traveled through me, and now, through my daughter.

I stepped onto the balcony and looked at the sky, my eyes full of tears. All at once I felt my hunger, my shame, my gratitude, and my joy.

That girl may never remember me. She may not even know the difference she made. But I will never forget her. Because she taught me that even the smallest act of kindness can change a life.

And now, I know: as long as my daughter shares her bread with another child, kindness will live on.

Credit :Sustainable Humans

What's missing from "The Body Keeps the Score?" From an Interpersonal Neurobiology (IPNB) perspective, Bessel Van der Kolk's book
largely overlooks the relational and systemic context in which trauma exists and persists. He touches on relationships and collective trauma, but the framework focuses on the individual body and brain.

IPNB shows that the nervous system’s regulation depends on ongoing safety in relationships, communities, and environments. Hierarchies, abusive institutions, and chronic social stress keep survival adaptations active, no matter how many therapies are applied.

Recovery isn’t just a matter of retraining the brain or soothing the body. It requires safe, attuned relationships and social environments that allow the nervous system to downshift from survival mode. Without addressing these systemic and relational factors, the body remains on alert, the nervous system remains dysregulated, and healing is partial.

Van der Kolk opens the door to relational and somatic healing, but IPNB emphasizes that trauma is as much about the social world as it is about the individual body. The full path to recovery must attend to both: the body’s physiology and the relational, institutional, and cultural contexts that sustain safety, or keep systems trapped in threat.

NOTE : this is not to dismiss or degrade Bessel Van der Kolk's work or his book. Just a note about what's missing, and filling in the gaps so people can gain that understanding.

Remembering one of the most powerful and distinguished storytellers of our time: Toni Morrison.

Morrison's works often depict difficult circumstances and the dark side of humanity, but still convey integrity and redemption. The way she reveals the stories of individual lives conveys insight into, understanding of, and empathy for her characters.

She became the first African American woman to be awarded a Nobel Prize when she received the literature prize in 1993.

Learn more: https://bit.ly/2PK3xDo

The August 2025 issue of ​The Trauma Therapist Newsletter is out!​

The mission: To celebrate the people and the voices in the mental health field.

If that's you then what are you waiting for?!

Each issue highlights a collection of the past month's interviews, inspiration and goings on in the mental health field.

Yes, it's free.

Subscribe for free here: https://bit.ly/4jGBeSa

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