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.

What 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 and 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.

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.

Finally, as you contemplate beginning trauma therapy to recover from your own childhood trauma symptoms, I would strongly encourage you to work with a licensed mental health professional who is also trained in an evidence-based trauma modality (like EMDR).

If you’re in California or Florida and ready to begin high-quality, trauma-informed therapy, my team and I at Evergreen Counseling can help. Book a complimentary consultation with our clinical intake director, and she’ll match you to the therapist who’s the best fit for you personally, clinically, and logistically. (It may even be me!)

Wherever you live, join the waitlist for my upcoming course, “Fixing the Foundations.” It’s designed to transform entrenched survival patterns into authentic inner steadiness through a multi-phase, neuroscience-backed approach.

Want to go even deeper? Take my free quiz to discover more about your relational blueprint. Once you do, I’ll add you to my mailing list so you’ll receive my twice-monthly “Letters from Annie”—personal stories, expert insights, and gentle guidance for your healing journey.

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Thank you for being here. Until next time, please take such good care of yourself. You’re so worth it.

Warmly,

Annie