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Lauren Long (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

Trauma. It’s a word that wasn’t on my radar until I started counselling seven years ago. Or rather, I had heard the word but never given much thought as to how it applied to me. I’d never considered how it had impacted my relationships with myself and the people around me. 

Most of my trauma history comes from the bullying I suffered from the age of five to sixteen. My mom has told me that I was outgoing as a kid, but I guess after awhile, the bullying affected me so much I withdrew into myself. 

This, along with my reputation of being kind and gentle, made me an easy target. It wasn’t until I got to university that I began to come out of my shell. 

So, how did being bullied have a traumatic impact on me? I’m distrustful of people, and I don’t like to let too many get close to me. I always think that people have a hidden agenda, and for the longest time I would continually look over my shoulder. If I saw the people who tormented me, I would head the other way so I didn’t have to talk to them. 

Nobody ever wants to talk to their bullies, whether they are former classmates or teachers, and I have avoided both whenever I see them. I’m a nice person, but I have a dark side and get angry just like everyone else. 

My experiences of being bullied have contributed to me developing a vindictive streak, and it comes out when I see or hear about someone who has wronged me in the past, or even recently. When I hear of their misfortunes, I find it difficult to have sympathy for them. I feel like they deserve whatever’s happening to them.

People always remember the way you made them feel, and ever since I started counselling, the memories of how those people made me feel burst out of where I tried to hide them. Before I began therapy, I was notorious for stuffing things down and never dealing with them. I thought if I acted like they didn’t exist, I could forget that they happened. 

But our bodies have a way of remembering trauma, and it affects us mentally, emotionally and physically. I may have started addressing the trauma in counselling, but it wasn’t until I started pole dancing again that I had an emotional outlet. 

Writing about your feelings is only one piece of the puzzle. I have found that journaling, counselling and the creative cathartic outlet of pole dancing have all played a role in helping me unknot the web of trauma that has been wrapped around my soul for years. 

By opening myself up to these cathartic experiences, I have been on a journey of healing. Instead of shoving things down, I deal with them. I’m more open with expressing my emotions and allowing myself to feel things. Before, I would always shut my emotions off to help someone else process theirs, but I’ve learned it is so much easier and healthier to let yourself feel what you’re feeling in the moment. That, and it’s really cathartic to cry with someone. We can’t be strong all the time, sometimes we need to break down and let ourselves be vulnerable around the people that we feel safe with. 

The combination of pole dancing and counselling has given me the growth I needed to develop confidence in setting boundaries, which is another part of my trauma history. When I was a kid, every time I tried to stand up for myself or say I didn’t want to do something, I was either laughed at or pressured to do it, sometimes both, until I gave in. I was constantly surrounded by people who were convinced that they knew what was best for me, better than I did.

I had a bad habit of being a people-pleaser when I was young, and it’s only been in the last few years that I have grown more comfortable in setting boundaries. In other words, I have become more assertive in sending clear messages to people saying that if they push me, I’m going to push back just as hard. 

The girl I was is long gone and has been replaced by a woman who knows her worth and has a soul of fire burning within. 

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Born and raised in Quesnel, BC, Lauren Long is a strong advocate for mental health and well-being, as well as being a major Swiftie and a role model for positive body image. She believes in the value of truth, and that truth matters. When she’s not writing, you can find her on the pole, on the training mats or curled up with a good book.