Tag: healing

It’s The Lying, Stupid

What do political gaslighting and personal trauma have in common?

Oh, just about… everything.

In this piece, I connect the dots between chronic lying—by abusers and authoritarian leaders alike—and how those lies rip open old wounds for trauma survivors. 

Recently, a known Trump disciple tried to troll me on Facebook after I commented “Luv our Guv” on a post about Illinois Governor J.B. Pritzker. He responded: “Why?”

So I trolled right back: “Because he’s HOT.”

His only reply: “OMG”—and then? Nothing. No follow-up. No witty comeback. Just a mental blue screen. Total system crash. Because here’s the thing: using facts to argue with a MAGA diehard is like playing chess with a pigeon. It knocks over the pieces, shits on the board, and flies away screaming about Hunter Biden’s laptop.

I work with trauma survivors—people with deep histories of sexual abuse, emotional and physical violence, and catastrophic loss. I’m a survivor myself, which is why I became a therapist. (Not for the wads of cash or the yacht parties—believe me.)

And I’m telling you: today’s political climate is not just chaotic. It’s profoundly triggering for the traumatized among us.

Why? Because of the LIES. The endless, aggressive, easily disprovable, crazy-making lies. A firehose of fabrication, turned on full blast and aimed straight at our sanity.

Trump doesn’t just lie—he diarrheas dishonesty. And his party lines up to wipe his ass and label the steaming, stinking pile of crap “Patriotism!” It’s not just infuriating. It’s re-traumatizing.

In trauma recovery, we have a word for people like that: enablers. The flying monkeys who do the dirty work for the Wicked Witch. The ones who look you in the eye and say: “That never happened.”

Here’s the deeper cut: when someone survives trauma—say, a child who’s molested by a relative—the event itself is devastating. But what truly shatters the soul is what comes after. The silence. The denial. The gaslighting from the very adults who were supposed to protect them. The, “You’re making that up.”

Research shows that survivors who are believed, supported, and protected fare much better over time. And those rare few whose abusers actually take responsibility tend to heal even more fully. But most survivors don’t get that. Not even close.

So when Trump and his enablers lie—relentlessly, shamelessly—it doesn’t just press our buttons. It echoes those original betrayals. And our nervous systems light up like slot machines: hearts racing, chests tightening, palms sweating. Panic. Rage. Numbness. The full trauma jackpot.

So what do we do with all that?

We heal anyway.

There’s no magic button. No neat apology arc. We build the closure we never got. I often tell my clients: If you’ve been hit by a truck, it doesn’t matter whether the driver apologizes or gets away scot-free. You still need surgery. You still have to learn to walk again. And no one else can do that work for you.

We have to stop waiting for the people who hurt us to say, “I’m sorry.” Because most of them are too busy blaming us for being under the truck they ran us over with.

It’s tempting to believe that Trump supporters are just misinformed, hypnotized, trapped in a cult. That someday they’ll snap out of it and finally validate our reality. Just like trauma survivors often cling to the hope that their abusers will one day acknowledge the facts.

The bitter truth is that they know exactly who he is. And they like him that way. For all intents and purposes, they are him. “Woke” is the enemy. Owning the Libs is the mission. The cruelty isn’t a bug—it’s the whole damn app.

Maybe a few will change their tune when they lose their jobs or healthcare. When the shelves go bare or the bills pile up or a loved one is sent to a detention camp patrolled by alligators. But admit they were wrong? Acknowledge the harm they’ve done? Validate your reality?

Puh-lease. Abusers and their enablers rarely do. Many are narcissists and sociopaths, people who literally lack the wiring for empathy or accountability.

And yes, it fucking sucks. But letting them live rent-free in your head sucks much harder.

You already know they’re lying. That’s enough. You don’t need their confession to begin your healing. So stop spinning your wheels trying to make sense of their bullshit.

Just like in trauma recovery, dealing with these triggers requires tools. One process I teach my clients is: Don’t Engage. De-escalate. Distract.

Don’t Engage

Don’t engage with trolls. Don’t argue with people who aren’t operating in good faith. Don’t spike your already-overstimulated nervous system. Hide or block them and walk away.

De-escalate

Breathe. I like 7-8-9 breathing. Inhale through your nose for 7 counts. Hold it for 8, and exhale slowly through your mouth for 9. This activates your vagus nerve, helps calm your system, and brings you back to the present.

Distract

Yes, really. Distraction—simple, elegant, and often the best way to deal with just about anything. Go for a hike or do some kickboxing. Rearrange your furniture. Make a soufflé. Watch old comedy clips. Be with people who help you laugh at the absurdity—and hold space for the pain. It’s not avoidance—it’s medicine.

You can absolutely fight the gaslight when you have the bandwidth. But choose action over obsession—protest, write letters and postcards, phone bank, give money to worthy organizations—because doom-scrolling has never helped anyone heal.

And healing is the goal.

And when you’re tired, rest. Sit back and let someone else take the wheel. That’s not quitting—that’s strategy. That’s wisdom.

These are your tools. This is your power. This is how we take our lives back.

Maybe how we take our democracy back.

And that’s no lie.

Shame on You!

Recently, I shared a Facebook post by a well-known pastor, John Pavlovitz, commenting on an X post by Donald Trump. The post concerned an Episcopalian bishop, Mariann Budde, who had, during an inaugural prayer service, implored the incoming administration to show mercy toward immigrants and the LGBTQ+ community. Predictably, Trump dismissed the bishop as “nasty” and “not very smart.” The pastor argued that any self-professed Christian who voted for Trump should feel ashamed. I agreed.

Someone commented by saying that shaming others isn’t the way to win hearts and minds. Fair point, but hear me out.

Shame, as defined by Merriam-Webster, is a painful feeling resulting from doing something wrong or improper. It can also refer to a healthy moral compass—the ability to recognize when one’s actions are harmful. Many of us grew up hearing “Shame on you!” from our mothers when we disobeyed or were mean or thoughtless. That kind of correction, though painful, helped shape our sense of right and wrong. However, shame can also be weaponized in toxic ways, leaving scars. Abuse victims, for example, often internalize unjustified shame, and I work hard to help people heal from that.

But appropriate shame—the kind that stems from genuine wrongdoing—is not inherently harmful. It’s what keeps us accountable. A lack of shame entirely is what creates sociopaths and psychopaths: people who know they’re doing wrong but simply don’t care. Narcissists, on the other hand, do feel shame, but they repress it so deeply that it manifests as rage and projection.

Narcissists are not born. They are shaped by their environment. They may have been excessively shamed or placed on a pedestal, receiving praise disconnected from reality. Either way, they grew up without learning empathy or humility. For them, shame is a third rail. They can’t tolerate it for even a moment, so they offload it by shaming others.

This brings me back to Trump. I don’t believe he felt a moment of shame when the bishop pleaded for mercy—because I truly think he’s a sociopath as well as a narcissist. But he is thin-skinned enough that he lashed out, as narcissists do, to make himself feel bigger by diminishing someone else.

As for whether shame motivates better behavior, I believe it can. Feeling shame is crucial to mental health and moral growth. It’s just another emotion, neither good nor bad in itself. What matters is how we process it. If someone shames us unfairly—over our appearance, our art, or something beyond our control—that’s wrong. But if our actions are harmful, feeling shame can inspire us to stop and change. Without shame, we lose an essential part of the human experience and our ability to grow.

I don’t love feeling shame. It’s painful. But when warranted, it forces me to examine myself and, at times, change for the better. That’s why I won’t apologize for agreeing with the pastor’s post, which challenges people to reflect on how they reconcile their faith with supporting someone as cruel and un-Christian as Trump.

That said, I ultimately took the post down. Why? Because I realized I was, yet again, trying to reach people who won’t listen—this time through shame. It won’t work. Facts haven’t worked. Empathy hasn’t worked. Nothing has. So for trying again, knowing better,

Shame on me.