Trauma Stacking

It's never just one thing.

We tell ourselves stories about single moments, isolated incidents, the one bad thing that happened. But trauma doesn't work that way. It cascades.

When my life went sideways after my separation, it surfaced significant stress and anxiety. While trying to deal with that change, I lost my job. And within a month, I had been hospitalized with a debilitating case of vertigo.

Three events. Three months. One story we could tell ourselves about coincidence and bad luck.

But here's what I know now: this is common and caused by the body's natural reaction to unprocessed trauma. The sequence isn't random. It's predictable. It's a system.

Unprocessed trauma leads to heightened stress response over time, which increases vulnerability to stress, which means even small things feel traumatic.

The cascade begins with something we don't fully process. Maybe we're too busy. Maybe we're too proud. Maybe we're too scared. The trauma sits there, undigested, changing our baseline. Our nervous system stays on high alert. Our resources get depleted. Our resilience erodes.

Then the next thing happens. It doesn't have to be big. It just has to be enough to overwhelm a system that's already maxed out. And suddenly, what should be manageable becomes unbearable.

The third thing is almost inevitable. We're now operating from a place of complete depletion. Our body starts to rebel. Physical symptoms appear. We get sick. We break down. We wonder how everything fell apart so quickly.

But it didn't happen quickly. It happened slowly, then all at once.

The good news? Once you understand the cascade, you can interrupt it.

Breaking the Cycle

The pattern is predictable, which means it's interruptible. But only if we're willing to do the work that feels counterintuitive in the moment.

Don't push the trauma aside.

This is the hardest one because it's exactly what we want to do. We want to power through. We want to be strong. We want to get back to normal as quickly as possible.

But there is no shortcut through trauma. There's only through.

Take time to reflect on what happened and how you are feeling. Work with a therapist. Not because you're broken, but because you're human. Because trauma rewires our brains in ways that require professional guidance to untangle.

The work isn't about fixing yourself. It's about understanding yourself.

Don't isolate or hibernate.

When we're hurting, we retreat. It's natural. It's protective. And it's exactly the wrong thing to do.

Seek out people who make you feel good. Not people who will fix you or solve your problems, but people who remind you that you're still you. People who can sit with you in the mess without trying to clean it up.

Find outdoor spots that connect you with the living world around you. Nature doesn't judge. It doesn't rush. It doesn't demand that you be anywhere other than where you are. It just exists, and in its presence, you remember that you exist too.

Don't give in to the suck.

This isn't about positive thinking or fake optimism. It's about anchor points.

Find the anchor points in your life that you know to be true and lean into them. Maybe it's your values. Maybe it's your relationships. Maybe it's your morning coffee routine. Maybe it's the way your dog looks at you when you come home.

These aren't grand gestures. They're tiny acts of defiance against chaos. They are whispers that say, "This is still true. This still matters. This still holds."

The Current and the Rock

Instead of worrying that your life is spiraling out of your control, with one trauma stacked on another, you can take a moment and let that current rush past you.

Notice the metaphor here. You're not trying to stop the current. You're not trying to swim against it. You're not pretending it's not dangerous.

You're acknowledging its danger and admiring your strength to survive.

The current is real. The trauma is real. The cascade is real. But so is your capacity to weather it.

You can be both vulnerable and strong. You can be both hurt and healing. You can be both broken and whole.

What This Means for the Rest of Us

If you're reading this and thinking, "This doesn't apply to me," think again.

We all have unprocessed trauma. We all have moments we've pushed aside, emotions we've buried, experiences we've minimized. We all have stress responses that have been quietly escalating in the background.

The cascade isn't reserved for the dramatic moments. It happens in ordinary lives, too. The divorce you handled "just fine." The job loss you "got over quickly." The death of a parent you "dealt with." The pandemic you "made it through."

Maybe you did handle it. Maybe you are fine. But maybe your body is keeping score in ways you haven't noticed yet.

The work isn't about looking for problems where none exist. It's about paying attention to the patterns. It's about noticing when the small things start feeling big. It's about interrupting the cascade before it becomes an avalanche.

The Practice

This week, ask yourself: What am I not processing? What am I pushing aside? What current am I trying to swim against instead of learning to navigate?

The answers might surprise you. They might be smaller than you think. They might be bigger than you want to acknowledge.

Either way, they're worth paying attention to.

Because it's never just one thing. But it's also never too late to interrupt the cascade.

The current is strong, but you're stronger. Not because you can fight it, but because you can learn to move with it, anchor yourself in what matters, and trust your ability to survive whatever comes next.

That's the work. That's the practice. That's the way through.