You Are More Than What Has Happened to You
There is a difference between understanding how your experiences have shaped you and believing that they determine who you are. The things we've lived through matter. They can influence how we see ourselves, what we expect from other people, what feels safe, and what we believe is possible for our lives. Sometimes, in trying to make sense of difficult experiences, we begin to tell ourselves stories about who we are…I'm too sensitive. I can't handle uncertainty. I don't matter. I'm helpless. These stories can start to feel less like interpretations of our experiences and more like facts about our identity.
But what if there is more to the story?
Healing can involve understanding the ways our past has shaped us while also becoming curious about the parts of ourselves that have been overlooked. It can mean recognizing the patterns that once helped us navigate difficult circumstances without assuming those patterns have to define our future. We can acknowledge what has hurt us, what we've struggled with, and what we still carry, while also beginning to recognize our capacity to learn, adapt, make choices, and move toward something different.
We can honor what we've been through without allowing it to become the whole story of who we are.
The stories we tell ourselves about who we are
When we seek support for anxiety, trauma, or other difficult experiences, it makes sense that much of our attention goes toward what isn't working. We want to understand why we feel anxious, why certain situations are so difficult, why we keep repeating familiar patterns, or why we can't seem to move past something that happened years ago. Understanding these experiences can be an important part of healing. It can help us make sense of ourselves with greater compassion instead of interpreting our struggles as personal failures. But there is a difference between understanding a problem and allowing the problem to become the primary story we tell about ourselves.
When anxiety is a constant presence in your life, it can be easy to start thinking of yourself as someone who can't handle uncertainty. When you've been hurt in relationships, you might begin to believe that you can't trust other people or that you will always be vulnerable to rejection. When you've spent years putting other people's needs first, you believe that you simply don't know how to advocate for yourself. These descriptions may reflect something real about your experience, but they don't necessarily tell the whole story.
Sometimes these beliefs run deeper than the descriptions we use in everyday life. They become core beliefs about who we are and what we can expect from the world. I don't matter. I'm powerless. I'm not good enough. I can't trust myself. I'm not safe. These beliefs can develop in response to experiences in which our needs were dismissed, our choices were restricted, we were repeatedly criticized, or we had little control over what happened to us. They may have helped us make sense of what we were experiencing at the time, but they can continue to influence how we respond long after our circumstances have changed.
If you learned early on that expressing your needs led to conflict, for example, you may have come to believe that your needs are a burden. If you experienced situations in which you couldn't protect yourself or change what was happening, you may have developed a sense of helplessness that follows you into circumstances where you now have more choices. The belief can persist even when the context that shaped it is no longer present.
This is one reason I think it's important to approach trauma work with an understanding of both what has been painful and what remains possible. You are not only the things you struggle with. You are also the ways you've adapted, the things you care about, the decisions you've made, the relationships you've nurtured, and the capacities you've developed along the way. Rather than asking only, What's wrong with me? we can begin asking, What did I learn to believe about myself through these experiences, and is that belief still serving me now?
That question creates room for something new.
From what happened to what is possible
In psychology, the term post-traumatic growth describes positive psychological changes that some people experience through the struggle to make sense of and live with trauma. Researchers Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun identified areas in which people may experience growth, including a greater appreciation of life, deeper relationships, a sense of personal strength, new possibilities, and changes in their spiritual or existential perspective. The American Psychological Association's overview of growth after trauma offers a useful introduction to this research.
I think there is something important in this idea, particularly when we move beyond the assumption that recovery is only about returning to how things were before. Sometimes healing does involve feeling more like yourself again. At other times, it involves developing a different relationship with yourself and your life—one shaped not only by what you've endured, but also by what you've learned, what matters to you, and what you want to make possible going forward.
This doesn't mean that trauma happens for a reason, that suffering is necessary for growth, or that everyone should be able to find something positive in painful experiences. Some experiences are profoundly unfair. Some losses cannot be repaired. And growth is not a requirement for healing. You don't have to turn your suffering into a lesson or become stronger because something difficult happened to you.
What interests me is the possibility that our experiences, even painful ones, do not have to be the only influence on the direction our lives take. We can make room for the reality of what happened without assuming that our past has already determined what comes next.
Sometimes this involves more than recognizing our strengths. It involves changing what we believe about ourselves at a fundamental level. Someone who has spent years feeling helpless might begin to develop a sense that they can respond to what happens, even when they cannot control it. Someone who has felt that their needs don't matter might begin to experience their needs as legitimate and worthy of attention. Someone who has come to believe that they are fundamentally flawed might begin to recognize that struggling, making mistakes, or needing support doesn't diminish their worth.
These aren't simply more positive thoughts to replace negative ones. They are different ways of understanding our place in the world and our relationship to our own lives. And while we can't always choose what we believe or how we feel in a given moment, we can work toward a more adaptive relationship with ourselves—one that makes room for both the difficulties we've experienced and the capacities we can continue to develop.
You are not at the mercy of every thought or feeling
One of the things I find important in therapeutic work is helping people develop a different relationship with their internal experiences. Our thoughts and emotions can be powerful. Anxiety can make uncertainty feel intolerable. Shame can make us want to disappear. Fear can convince us that we aren't ready to take a risk. A familiar belief about ourselves can feel so convincing that we don't even consider questioning it.
When these experiences arise, it can seem as though they tell us what we can and cannot do. If I feel anxious, I must not be ready. If I feel guilty, I must have done something wrong. If I doubt myself, perhaps I shouldn't trust my judgment. If I feel overwhelmed, perhaps I'm not capable of handling what is in front of me.
But an internal experience isn't always an instruction, and a feeling isn't necessarily a verdict about who you are.
You can feel anxious and still make a thoughtful decision. You can experience self-doubt and still take a meaningful step. You can feel guilty when setting a boundary without concluding that you've done something wrong. You can acknowledge that something is difficult without deciding that you're incapable of doing it.
This isn't about ignoring emotions or forcing yourself to push through every uncomfortable experience. Our feelings can provide valuable information, and sometimes they signal that we need to slow down, reconsider a decision, or seek support. The point is that we can learn to listen to those feelings without automatically allowing them to determine our actions.
This is part of developing a sense of agency: recognizing that we can participate in how we respond to our experiences, even when we don't have control over what happens or what arises within us. Agency doesn't mean that we can think our way out of anxiety, choose not to be affected by painful experiences, or make every situation turn out the way we want. It means developing a greater capacity to respond rather than feeling entirely governed by our circumstances, thoughts, or emotions.
Over time, this can change how we understand ourselves. Instead of I'm helpless, the belief might become I'm able to respond as I need to. Instead of I can't handle this, it might become This is difficult, and I can find ways to meet it. The goal isn't to insist that we are capable of everything. It's to develop a more realistic and flexible understanding of what we can do, what support we can access, and what choices are available to us.
How trauma therapy can help change the story
Understanding where a belief came from can be an important first step, but insight alone doesn't always change how deeply we feel it to be true. You could know that your needs matter and still feel ashamed when you express them. Perhaps you recognize that you have choices in your life now and still feel helpless when faced with conflict or uncertainty. You might understand that you weren't responsible for what happened to you and still carry a sense that something about you was fundamentally wrong.
This gap between what we know intellectually and what we experience emotionally is one of the reasons I approach trauma work through both psychological and somatic lenses.
In therapy, we can begin to explore the experiences that shaped the beliefs you carry about yourself. We look at the conclusions you drew about who you needed to be, what you could expect from other people, and what you needed to do to stay safe or connected. We begin to notice the ways those conclusions continue to influence your choices, relationships, and responses in the present.
Rather than trying to convince yourself that a painful belief is untrue, we can approach it with curiosity. When did you begin to believe that you didn't matter? What happened when you tried to express a need? What did you learn about your ability to influence your circumstances? And what might you understand differently now, with the perspective and resources you have today?
This process isn't about blaming the past or forcing yourself to adopt a more positive outlook. It's about understanding how your beliefs developed and creating opportunities for new experiences and perspectives to become meaningful.
EMDR therapy can be particularly relevant when earlier experiences continue to carry emotional weight in the present. In EMDR, we identify specific memories and the beliefs, emotions, and physical sensations associated with them. As those experiences are processed, the way a person relates to the memory—and to the beliefs connected with it—can begin to change. The EMDR International Association explains how EMDR works with negative self-beliefs and adaptive positive beliefs.
For example, someone may come to therapy carrying the belief I don't matter. We might explore experiences in which their needs were dismissed, their feelings were minimized, or they felt invisible in an important relationship. The work isn't to tell that person that they matter and expect them to believe it. It is to help them process the experiences that contributed to the belief and develop a different relationship with what happened.
Over time, a more adaptive belief might begin to emerge: My existence matters. My needs are worthy of consideration. I have a right to take up space in my own life.
For someone whose experiences have left them feeling helpless, the work might involve moving toward a belief such as I have choices now or I'm able to respond as I need to. This doesn't mean pretending that they have control over everything. It means recognizing the difference between the lack of power they may have experienced in the past and the possibilities available to them now.
An important part of this process is that the new belief needs to feel both meaningful and believable. Repeating I'm strong or I'm in control may not help someone whose lived experience tells them otherwise. A more adaptive belief is not necessarily an absolute or relentlessly positive one. It is a belief that more accurately reflects their present circumstances, their worth, and their capacity to respond.
This is also why the goal of trauma therapy isn't simply to eliminate distressing memories or reduce symptoms. It can involve developing a more compassionate and accurate understanding of yourself, recognizing capacities that were obscured by painful experiences, and becoming better able to act from that understanding in your everyday life.
Building a different sense of what you're capable of
A new belief becomes more meaningful as it begins to influence how we live. We can start to recognize our capacity not only in the therapy room but also in the ordinary moments when we make choices, navigate relationships, and respond to uncertainty.
You could begin by doing something small that you would ordinarily avoid because it makes you anxious. You might express an opinion even though you're uncertain how someone will respond, or make a decision based on your own preferences rather than spending hours trying to determine what everyone else would want. You allow yourself to rest without first earning it through productivity.
Each time, you have an opportunity to discover something about your own capacity. You find that the situation is uncomfortable and that you can still move through it. You learn that another person's disappointment is something you can tolerate. You discover that you can make a mistake without it becoming a catastrophe, or that you can change your mind when new information becomes available.
These experiences give you something more substantial than a reassuring thought: evidence that your responses and possibilities are not fixed.
This is one way self-trust grows: not by never feeling uncertain, but by learning that uncertainty doesn't have to mean helplessness. Not by believing that you can control everything, but by discovering that you have ways of responding to what you cannot control. Not by becoming someone who never struggles, but by developing a more flexible and compassionate relationship with the person who does.
Making room for a fuller story
The stories we tell about ourselves are shaped by our experiences, but also by what we pay attention to and the meaning we give those experiences. When we're struggling, the difficult parts of our lives can become especially prominent.
A strengths-based perspective doesn't ask us to replace a painful story with an artificially positive one. It asks us to make the story more complete.
What else is true about you? What have you learned to navigate? What matters enough to you that you keep trying, even when something is difficult? When have you acted with courage, care, creativity, or persistence? What have you done in the past that suggests you may have more capacity than you currently give yourself credit for?
These aren't questions meant to make you feel better about yourself for a moment. They are invitations to notice aspects of your experience that may have been obscured by a more familiar story of what's wrong, what you can't do, or what will always be difficult for you.
You don't have to invent an entirely new version of yourself. Sometimes you need a fuller understanding of the person you already are, along with the opportunity to develop capacities that haven't yet had much room to grow.
Healing as a return to your own participation in life
In my work, I'm interested not only in helping people understand the patterns that bring them to therapy, but also in helping them develop a greater sense of agency in their lives. This can involve processing painful experiences, noticing the beliefs that have formed around them, and exploring new ways of relating to thoughts, emotions, relationships, and the body.
EMDR can support the processing of experiences that continue to shape how you see yourself, while contemplative and mind-body practices can help you become more aware of your internal experiences and develop more space in how you respond to them. The work may also involve exploring the stories you tell about yourself and whether those stories reflect the fullness of your experiences and possibilities.
The aim isn't to become someone who is never affected by life. It's to develop more flexibility in how you meet it. To recognize that you can be a person who experiences anxiety without being defined by anxiety, who has been hurt without being permanently broken, or who has struggled with self-trust and can begin to build it.
Maybe you didn’t choose the experiences that shaped you. You may not be able to change everything about your circumstances, and there may be real constraints on the choices available to you. But within the life you have, there may be more room for participation, learning, and change than your most familiar story allows you to see.
You are allowed to acknowledge what has happened to you without making it the whole story of who you are. You are allowed to recognize your limitations without treating them as permanent. And you are allowed to build a life that reflects not only what you've survived, but also what you care about, what you're learning, and what you want to make possible.
Healing, in this sense, isn't simply about becoming less affected by the past. It's also about developing a more adaptive relationship with yourself: one in which you can recognize your worth, trust your capacity to respond, and remain open to possibilities that your past may have made difficult to imagine.
You are more than what has happened to you. And the story you tell about yourself can continue to grow.
If you're looking for trauma therapy or EMDR in Colorado, I offer individual therapy for adults in Boulder and throughout Colorado via telehealth. My approach integrates trauma-sensitive therapy with contemplative and mind-body practices to support healing, self-trust, and a greater sense of connection with yourself.