Tag: Trauma

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Opinions

True crime goes beyond entertainment

Graphic by Finn Grosu // @tesdoncbenfinn

Many women find comfort in tragedy because it reflects their traumas.

True crime once felt like my safe place, a fact that might sound eerie. I was introduced to the genre in 2018 when my favourite YouTuber, Savannah Brymer, started uploading true crime videos. At first, I just loved the storytelling aspect of it. But the more I listened to victims’ stories, the more I started noticing that I had developed an addiction to true crime. 

It became part of my daily routine, and I would not go a day without putting a true crime podcast on to fall asleep. I listened to true crime while eating and getting dressed, or I would put it on as background noise. I can easily say that I have listened to over 100 such podcasts—most containing detailed descriptions of torture and abuse. I did not understand why I was interested in violent stories that mainly involved women as the victims. At first, I used to pause the video because it made me nauseous. But as time passed by, I became desensitized. 

I listened to true crime podcasts for four consecutive years. During that period, I was struggling with social anxiety. In 2021, I took a FFAR class about true crime and learned a lot about the genre. I discovered that true crime consumers’ statistics are skewed to women. This obsession primarily stems from a sense of safety, because women identify as the victims. Other reasons include self-education and escapism.  

Fortunately, after learning coping skills to deal with the stressful life events I was going through at the time, my consumption of true crime drastically decreased and eventually stopped. For years, I did not realize that this fascination with violence and unsafety reflected my childhood. People who grew up in a stressful environment or have been traumatized at some point in their lives will find trauma relaxing. The reason is that traumatized people often do not know what it feels like to be safe; it is unfamiliar and boring. People who have been traumatized choose what is familiar, and that becomes their refuge. 

Looking at the genre itself, I appreciate that it is spreading awareness about how to be safe. However, I find the idea of true crime creators making money from a tragedy highly controversial. Many true crime creators consider it a job and dedicate much time to crafting their podcasts. I do think that true crime creators deserve compensation for their hard work. Getting paid and sponsored will help channels like Kendal Rae continue using their platform to raise money for different organizations and causes.

As a woman in the process of healing, I feel great empathy for all the women who cannot get rid of their obsession with true crime. This fascination has more to do with past traumas than simply being interested in the victims’ stories. Right now, I cannot listen to any true crime story as it makes me anxious rather than at peace. 

I encourage women who listen to true crime to take a step back and thoroughly consider why they find comfort in tragedy. After going through this introspection, it is necessary to address the issues within. 

Categories
Podcasts

The Check-In Podcast by Emily Pasquarelli #1 – “It wasn’t your fault”

Welcome to the Check-In Podcast, hosted by Emily Pasquarelli, a first year journalism student and a huge advocate for mental health. The Check-in Podcast will be a special series produced by The Concordian where Emily displays the importance of checking in with your close ones.

On this episode, Emily talks with Tyrelle Anasara-Diab about his experience with Quebec’s foster care system, and the effect it had on his mental health. He shares how he got through it, and the important people that helped him along the way…

Artwork by James Fay

How the lack of romantic validation in earlier years has affected my dating life as a young adult

Graphic by Lily Cowper

I was never shown any romantic interest, nor did I feel approachable, which explains my deep-rooted psychological issues regarding dating

Growing up, guys never asked me out. No one showed any romantic interest, nor was I ever considered one of the pretty girls in school.

In high school, I spent a lot of my time with the popular and pretty girls group. They were gorgeous, funny and absolutely lovely.

When I think of my high school experience, I instantly remember my days spent at the cafeteria and class with these girls listening about their romantic relationships and talking about boys. The guys were constantly gushing over them and pining over them.

I, on the other hand, did not peak in high school. I’ve also lacked a lot of confidence. I thought I was small, scrawny and wore ugly glasses. I was always on the sidelines. I was the “other friend.”

Within my first few years of high school, I developed several insecurities about myself. I started to think that I didn’t receive the same attention because I wasn’t physically appealing, likable or lovable.

On top of that, being a person of colour who doesn’t fit into western beauty standards made it easier for me to believe I wasn’t appealing to most people.

With this mindset, I sought academic validation instead. I focused on my studies. Getting good grades and being a “nerd” were my only personality traits.

I wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of dating, but I wasn’t actively trying to date someone.  The opportunity never came up. I didn’t date in high school. I didn’t get asked out until a few years ago in CEGEP.

This lack of experience in dating and romantic validation in my earlier years affected my ability to hold romantic relationships as a young adult. I had such deep-rooted psychological issues and insecurities surrounding my appearance that I didn’t know how to act when someone showed a slight interest in me. I still don’t – I think.

During my two years in CEGEP, I tried to put myself out there and explore the dating world, but I blame my insecurities for never going beyond a hookup at the bar.

I eventually became friends with a teammate who showed interest in me. We spent a lot of time together training. He was sweet, and I enjoyed spending time with him.

Yet, once we crossed that bridge from platonic to a romantic relationship, it made me feel incredibly weird. I started to see him differently, and it made me uncomfortable to have someone think of me in any romantic way.

It was a foreign concept to me to think that I could be appealing to some.

I sabotaged that friendship and relationship, because I didn’t know how to approach it.

Since then, I’ve tried even more to put myself out there and be more open-minded about dating, but every time someone gets too close, I don’t know how to act. I’ve questioned myself and wondered if I was asexual. Although I’m a 22-year-old woman who feels uncomfortable thinking about romantic relationships, the answer is no. I’m very much attracted to men and see myself being intimate with them.

A few months ago, I met someone through a friend and didn’t really think it could go anywhere — you know, because of all those issues I listed.

We started seeing each other as friends, and once again, when we crossed the line between platonic and romantic — I didn’t know how to approach it.

He was genuinely a nice guy. It felt nice to feel loved and appreciated. It was refreshing to finally take that next step of accepting that kind of romantic love.

He was someone who cared for me and understood me. Yet, no matter how much I tried, I didn’t feel the same way towards him.

All the built-up insecurities are the reason why I couldn’t hold any sort of relationship with him. I subconsciously appreciated his affection, but it didn’t go beyond that. It wasn’t fair for either of us.

I continuously either sabotage myself or avoid relationship opportunities. Perhaps it’s because I’m still not past my insecurities and can’t be emotionally vulnerable and intimate with someone.

They’re right when people say you need to love yourself before you can love anyone else.

 

Graphic by Lily Cowper

Categories
Opinions

Diary of a fat kid: deconstructed

graphic by @sundaemorningcoffee

Learning to accept yourself and deal with trauma as an overweight person

TW: Eating disorders, body image, body dysmorphia

First, let me get this straight: being fat is not wrong. It’s not because you do not correspond to the ideal conception of beauty set by Instagram influencers that you are not worthy of living, nor are you responsible for anything. If you feel at peace with your body, good for you, and you should never feel pressure because your kind of beauty is different from others’ standards.

“Hey, fat guy!”, “Are you the guy from Super Size Me?” Yes, I’ve heard these phrases directed at me. “Susan Boyle,” “Big Mama,”—these were just some of my nicknames. On Jan. 31, 2018, I was 18 and weighed 287 pounds, almost twice the normal weight for a boy my age. My BMI was 42 at the time, and deemed me morbidly obese.

Being overweight is tough, especially as a teenager. Teenagers are cruel and immature. Some will try to hurt you—these ones, you’d better ignore altogether. Others will try to fight with you, and I fought back, which I do not recommend since it almost got me expelled. Most of the time, people don’t realize they’re hurting you. In this case, you have two options: say how you feel, which requires an extraordinary amount of courage, or hurt in silence, which is the option most people choose, and the most destructive.

Depending on the characters, some people will be very affected by mockery, and some just won’t care. I belonged to the first category. One time, I was coming home from school when an old woman stopped me to comment on my sweater, and as she left, she yelled, in front of my friends, “And don’t get any fatter!” I’d never been so humiliated, and I spent the rest of the afternoon crying on my couch.

Harassment is one thing, but what’s worse is isolation. When you’re fat (let’s call a spade a spade), you don’t go out, because people might notice your double-chin; you don’t go to parties because girls might reject you; you don’t go on vacation because you’re uncomfortable being shirtless, it goes on and on. You stay at home, so you feel miserable, so you eat to forget. And once you enter this vicious circle, it’s very difficult to get out.

That’s how I went from being a perfectly healthy 13-year-old boy to becoming an 18-year-old teenager with no girlfriend, no real friends, and for whom tying shoes was a struggle.

Because being overweight is such a painful reality, I think some people tend to find excuses: “I have big bones,” “It’s genetic,” or “I have a hormonal problem.” And sometimes it’s true, but in most cases, I think being overweight is the result of bad eating habits, not enough exercise, or both. And even if you have to accept this responsibility, it does not make you any less valuable of a person. As a matter of fact, I tend to consider overweight people victims. Yes, you might snack too much sometimes or find excuses to avoid the gym, but this is not due to you having an abnormally large stomach or lower physical abilities. Eating is often compensation for trauma.

In my case, it was an unfortunate, routine doctor’s appointment that started it all. I was six years old and in perfect shape. The quack pediatrician checked me and told my parents, “If he’s not skinny now, he is going to become fat later.” At that very moment, he implanted that idea in my dad’s brain like Leonardo DiCaprio implanted the idea that the world was not real into Marion Cotillard’s head in Inception.

I recall a ski trip with my cousins. It was lunch time and we decide to go to a restaurant. Everybody savoured a raclette except me—my dad forced me to eat salmon with straight beans. I was only 10 and unknowingly, he created a complex in me.

As I said earlier, there’s no guilt to feel about being overweight, whether you’re slightly overweight or obese. However, because it is a disease that can put your life at risk, I’ll never blame someone for wanting me to lose weight. My dad used to tell me, “You know I don’t care about your appearance, as long as you’re healthy.” We live in an era of self-acceptance, which is great, but if you want to change, it’s your right to.

So, if you want to lose weight, here are my Four Fight Commandments (because it will be a fight): First, talk with the people who care about you. Believe me, nothing will bring you more comfort than their support. I know the loneliness of being overweight, and it’s too much pain to endure for one person. Vent as much as you need; they will never judge you and it’ll be a huge load off your shoulders.

Second, talk to a therapist. I know it can be scary. I refused at first, but you must identify your trauma to be able to treat it. A therapist will listen to you and give you a professional and educated opinion.

Third, find the right diet for you. We all have different bodies and taste buds. You have to find, with the help of a dietician, the diet most adapted to your body type and eating habits. Last, if you feel like you can’t do it alone, surgery is one solution. It’s called bariatric surgery: gastric band, sleeve or bypass. These are major and irreversible surgeries, so you want to think twice before going through that. I’ve considered this option, and there is no shame in that.

Don’t get me wrong, it will be a long road, sometimes you will want to quit, but if I did it (and I was a desperate case) everybody can. And don’t forget, whether you are skinny, fat or somewhere in the middle, the only thing that matters is that you are at peace with who you are.

Graphic by @sundaemorningcoffee

Categories
Student Life

Can trauma be transmitted intergenerationally?

Dr. Rachel Yehuda gave a talk at Dawson College on Oct. 16 about her 30 years of research in epigenetics. Photo by Sandra Hercegova

Dr. Rachel Yehuda reveals groundbreaking research on trauma and its biological risk factors

Before post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) was officially identified in 1980, little was known about the repercussions of a traumatic incident. “In general, when we talk about the effects of trauma, we are talking about a moving target,” said Dr. Rachel Yehuda. “We are talking about a dynamic process that moves and develops and changes. We are not talking about something that is static.”  

Yehuda’s focus on PTSD is part of her broader research in epigenetics—the study of changes in gene expression rather than alterations to the genetic code. “Some of the epigenetic changes are inheritable, but others can occur in development in response to environmental influences and particularly in uterine influences,” Yehuda explained to an audience at Dawson College on Oct. 16.

Yehuda is a professor of neuroscience and the vice-chair of psychiatry at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York City. She is also the mental healthcare patient director at the Veteran Affairs Medical Center in Bronx, N.Y. She has authored more than 250 published papers, chapters and books in the field of traumatic stress and the neurobiology of PTSD. Her epigenetics research led her to studying the children of Holocaust survivors and pregnant women who survived the 9/11 attacks. The purpose was to demonstrate how traumatic stress can be transmitted biologically to the next generation.

“I was studying the effects of stress and learning something that I thought was quite fascinating which was how stress hormones affect the brain and brain development in particular,” she said. Yehuda received her PhD in psychology and neurochemistry and her master of science in biological psychology from the University of Massachusetts Amherst, which allowed her to pursue the study of stress psychology further. While she was earning her PhD, PTSD was a relatively new diagnosis. “This was the first recognition by psychiatry that the effects of a traumatic stressor could be long-lasting,” she said. “It was a very brave thing to do because stress research didn’t really offer a paradigm for understanding this.”

In 1991, Yehuda became an assistant professor of psychiatry at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai. “I became very fascinated with some questions after I became acquainted with the concept of PTSD,” she said. According to Yehuda, the main question on her mind was why the effects of trauma endure once a traumatic event is over. She also studied the factors that cause people to react differently to trauma “because, surely, we don’t all respond the same way,” she said. “Why do survivors feel transformed by traumatic experiences?”

According to Yehuda, when a person experiences fear, their fight-or-flight response is activated. “The startle response orients you to danger. All the things that your body might have been doing at the time of trauma—like ovulation or digesting your lunch—all these things had to slow down so that all your energy could be preserved […] to increase your heart rate, blood pressure and cause the release of adrenaline,” she said.

When the brain senses the immediate danger has passed, it sends a signal to the adrenal glands to release cortisol. This hormone has the effect of reducing the amount of adrenaline circulating in a person’s system. According to Yehuda, the more severe the stressor, the more cortisol is secreted to bring the body back to normal.

“It’s a really well-balanced system that is designed to activate and calm itself down,” she said.

What Yehuda discovered during a clinical study in 1991, however, was that Vietnam war veterans with PTSD had lower levels of cortisol in their systems at the time compared to Vietnam veterans who didn’t have the disorder. “I couldn’t understand what would explain why a trauma survivor would have low cortisol,” she said.

In an attempt to understand these results, Yehuda spoke with her postdoctoral advisor. “It can’t be the war in Vietnam,” she told him. “I grew up in a Jewish community full of Holocaust survivors, and you don’t see Holocaust survivors in mental hospitals. You don’t see Holocaust survivors being so disabled.”

His response: “Rachel, that is a testable hypothesis.”

At the beginning of her research, Yehuda came across a Holocaust survivor who had many symptoms common with PTSD. “I couldn’t help but ask her: how did you live with your symptoms for so long? Why didn’t you ever seek treatment?,” she said. According to Yehuda, only three per cent the people she studied had ever been to a mental health professional in their lives. “Her response to me was: where am I supposed to go?”

It was then that Yehuda decided to open the first clinic for Holocaust survivors at Mount Sinai with a program dedicated to their treatment. She has spent more than 30 years conducting extensive research and interviewing Holocaust survivors and their children.

“What blew me away even more was the Holocaust survivors with PTSD also had lower cortisol levels,” she said.

During this first part of her research, Yehuda found that changes in DNA function, gene expression, brain structure and function, neurochemistry, metabolism, hormone regulation and immune function are all possible effects of trauma. “All these things can persist well beyond the effects of the fight-or-flight response,” she said.

Further on in her studies, Yehuda came across literature that disputed the myth of traumatic damage to the second generation. “Interestingly, that literature came from Montreal. A lot of that literature was written by second-generation Holocaust survivors,” she said. This inspired Yehuda to ask more questions and develop hypotheses. “Do Holocaust offspring have more mental health problems? Do they show biologic alterations that reflect psychiatric vulnerability? If so, do these biological alterations transmit somehow through the experience of being raised by Holocaust survivors?,” she said.

To test her hypotheses, Yehuda decided to ask the Holocaust survivors she had initially studied if she could interview their children. What she learned from this research was that the higher levels of mental illness and low levels of cortisol in these children were caused by a biological change in their parent which occurred in response to surviving the Holocaust.

According to Yehuda, parental trauma can affect the next generation in many different ways including in utero and postnatally. Another conclusion drawn from her epigenetics study was that, when exposed to something traumatic during pregnancy, as many as three generations can be affected.

“The mother is affected, her fetus is affected and the fetuses gametes are affected. That is one way in which this exposure [to trauma] and pregnancy might have effects,” she said.

Through her research, the conclusion that trauma can be transmitted intergenerationally led Yehuda to form a new hypothesis: what gets transmitted to the offspring of trauma survivors isn’t the trauma itself, but rather the body’s solution for dealing with trauma. “I can’t prove this yet, but I think it is true,” Yehuda said. “Maybe someone in this room will prove it, because you are young and science is a great field, and we now have the tools and techniques to be able to do so.”

Photo by Sandra Hercegova

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