TL;DR –Many people struggle to recognize their experiences as childhood trauma because traditional definitions focus narrowly on obvious abuse by primary caregivers, missing the subtler yet equally damaging patterns that occur in power-imbalanced relationships. Relational trauma encompasses any dysfunctional relationship where someone with more power—whether a critical parent, bullying sibling, shaming religious community, or invasive caregiver—overwhelms a child's ability to cope, leaving lasting biopsychosocial impacts. The subjective nature of trauma means that what matters isn't whether others would label it "bad enough," but how the experience affected you personally—whether it was a father's constant criticism "for your own good," a mother's suffocating control disguised as protection, or siblings' cruelty dismissed as normal behavior.
These experiences create profound wounds precisely because they're often minimized, justified, or hidden behind intentions of care, leaving survivors questioning their own reality and struggling to validate their pain. Understanding relational trauma through this expanded lens helps countless individuals finally name what they endured and recognize that their lingering struggles—with self-worth, boundaries, trust, or emotional regulation—make perfect sense given their experiences. Your trauma is valid whether it fits traditional definitions or not; healing begins with acknowledging the truth of your subjective experience.
In my last piece, I shared six reasons how and why many people struggle to see themselves in the historically understood definition of “childhood trauma.”
Those six reasons boiled down to the limitations of historical definitions, the subtlety of certain experiences, because mother was the abuser, because the abusers may not have been guardians/parents, because they viewed the privilege they had also experienced as some kind of neutralizer of the experience, because they experienced gaslighting about their experiences, and because they had preconceived notions about what “counted” as abuse or trauma.
There are, of course, many more reasons why people struggle to see themselves inside the definition of “childhood trauma” and all of those reasons are what led to me using the term “relational trauma” very often in my work.
In today’s essay I want to share my definition of childhood trauma with you and share some amalgam vignettes that reflect experiences captured by this definition with the hopes that you may see the subtly of your own experiences more clearly.
My definition of relational trauma.
Over time, in response to what I experienced as limitations in how we have historically and collectively come to understand childhood trauma, I created a relational trauma definition that, to me, felt more expansive:
“Relational trauma is the kind of trauma that results over the course of time in the context of a power-imbalanced and dysfunctional relationship (usually between a child and caregiver but also between a child/adolescent and systems/communities) that results in a host of complex and lingering biopsychosocial impacts for the individual who subjectively endured the trauma and was overwhelmed by the experience.”
– Annie Wright, LMFT
And honestly: one of the biggest pieces of feedback I receive about this definition and what I put out online is this:
“Ah, finally, there’s a name for what I went through…”
I’m not here to say this is the only or penultimate definition of relational trauma.
But I am here to say that when we ourselves use a more expensive definition of trauma – one that includes subjectivity at its core and more nuance in the how and why – we can help clients see themselves and their lived experience more clearly and, quite frankly, feel more validated.
Curious if you come from a relational trauma background?
Take this 5-minute, 25-question quiz to find out — and learn what to do next if you do.
START THE QUIZWhat are some examples of relational trauma?
And beyond a more expansive definition, one thing that can help so many of us from relational trauma backgrounds feel seen, validated, and normalized are seeing and hearing stories that reflect back aspects of our own lived experience.
These vignettes I’m about to share are amalgam vignettes (meaning mixed, blended stories) from the hundreds of clients I’ve worked with in the last thirteen years.
Amalgams that reflect situations and experiences that can lead to relational trauma depending on how they were subjectively experienced by the individual who moved through them.
[Note: These vignettes might feel triggering. Please stop reading them if you feel emotionally triggered and/or notice uncomfortable feelings coming up in your body that you’d prefer not to feel right now. Take care of yourself.]
Examples of potential relational trauma experiences:
- A father constantly criticizes his teenage daughter’s appearance. Comparing her to her friends and celebrities. Telling her she needs to lose weight or dress differently to be accepted and loved by others. Telling her it’s “just for her own good”. He doesn’t want her to feel like the odd one out like he was.
- An older, much stronger and bigger brother who constantly bullies his younger, smaller sister. Calling her names, hitting her, and hiding her belongings. While the parents dismiss it as normal sibling behavior and do nothing to intervene.
- A mother who micromanages every aspect of her son’s life. From his homework to his friendships. Telling him he will fail if he doesn’t follow her instructions exactly. If he doesn’t spend time with “worthwhile people.” All of this erodes his ability to choose freely. But she claims she’s just being a responsible parent. Trying to get him into the Ivy league and into the “right” social crowd.
- A church that shames and ostracizes a child for questioning promulgated beliefs or behaviors. Labeling the child as a sinner or damned. While the parents support the church’s actions and refuse to protect their child citing “it’s for their own good, this is what Jesus wants.”
- A father who consistently undermines his son’s confidence by mocking his interests, achievements and any hint of effeminacy the son displays. Telling him that he will never amount to anything. But justifies his actions saying he’s preparing his son for the “real world”. And that only “real men” can make it in life..
- Boarding school teachers who physically and emotionally abuse a student. Using excessive discipline, humiliation, and isolation. While the parents dismiss their child’s complaints as exaggerations and insist they endure for the sake of education.
- Parents who impose unrealistic expectations on their children. Demanding perfection in academics, sports, and behavior. Any mistake or failure is met with severe criticism and emotional withdrawal. And sometimes physical punishment like a wooden spoon.
- A sibling who incites fear in their younger brother by frequently threatening harm or abandonment. Using intimidation to control and manipulate. While parents see the older sibling as just being strict or protective.
- A mother who constantly invades her teenage son’s privacy. Reading his journal, going through his phone, and questioning his friends. All under the guise of protecting him. But really undermining his sense of autonomy and trust and safety with her.
Each of these vignettes illustrate examples of dysfunctional power-imbalanced relationships. Where the behavior of those with more power may lead to the child/adolescent subjectively feeling overwhelmed and not able to cope.
Each of these vignettes has the potential to be a relational trauma experience. With a lingering host of biopsychosocial impacts for the person who endured the trauma.
Professional Support for Recognizing Your Trauma Story
Working with a trauma-informed therapist can be invaluable when you’re struggling to validate experiences that don’t fit traditional trauma definitions—when your wounds came wrapped in “good intentions,” disguised as protection, or dismissed as normal family dynamics.
A skilled therapist understands that relational trauma isn’t measured by how it looks from the outside but by how it affected your developing nervous system and sense of self. In therapy, you can explore those subtle yet devastating patterns—the criticism that eroded your confidence, the micromanaging that destroyed your autonomy, the dismissal of sibling cruelty that taught you nowhere was safe.
This validation process is crucial because many relational trauma survivors have internalized the minimization of their experiences, believing they’re “overreacting” or that others had it worse. For those beginning to recognize these patterns, understanding what even is trauma and how to know if yours counts can provide a framework for validating your experiences.
The therapeutic relationship offers what was missing in childhood—someone who believes your subjective experience matters, who doesn’t minimize your pain or compare it to others’, and who helps you understand that healing is possible regardless of whether your trauma fits anyone else’s definition.
Wrapping up.
In my next piece in two weeks, we’re going to talk about why and how relational trauma and those biopsychosocial impacts can be one of the most detrimental trauma experiences someone can endure.
But, for now, hopefully by sharing this high quality psychoeducation, you may feel that the term relational trauma more adequately describes what you’ve lived through. And, moreover, you may have seen aspects of your own story mirrored back in those vignettes I shared.
And now I’d love to hear from you in the comments:
Does my definition of “relational trauma” help you see yourself and your story in more clearly? Did any of the vignettes speak to you and, if so, which one?
If you feel so inclined, please leave a message so our community of 30,000 blog readers can benefit from your share and wisdom.
Here’s to healing relational trauma and creating thriving lives on solid foundations.
Warmly,
Annie
