Wounds to Wisdom

...as understood from Jewish people with intergenerational trauma

“This work never ends, but as so many people have taught me along my journey, our wounds can yield new wisdom, release hidden sparks of light, and open up unexpected paths to the future.”

~Rabbi Thirzah Firestone, PhD.

Amen. I sincerely hope that this is my story as well.

I just finished the book, Wounds into Wisdom: Healing Intergenerational Jewish Trauma by Rabbi Thirzah Firestone, PhD.

Please do not misunderstand me: the anti-semitism and religious persecution that Jewish people have faced for centuries upon centuries, and continue face, I do not compare to my own trauma and intergenerational trauma.

However, given the extreme trauma that Jewish people have faced, and carry, intergenerationally, I knew that I would learn about trauma, how to carry it, and what to do with it, from their experiences through this book.

And it did not disappoint.

I have heard it referenced before, but in this book, I read about PTG, which is post-traumatic growth.

Identified by researchers, PTG is not defined by the traumatic events themselves, but rather, how the survivors grow, and “how they struggle with those events and make meaning of them.”

Firestone quotes an interviewee, Rami, who said that “our personal suffering can become our training ground.” And that “when our heart is broken, we can feel the suffering of others. Reaching out from the place of our greatest vulnerability can become our greatest strength, our gift to the world.”

That is my hope, the prayer, for my life.

At other points in this newsletter, I have referenced Glennon Doyle’s words, ‘spinning this shit into gold’, which also works.

But, finally, as Firestone notes, as only one who intimately trauma can understand:

“This is the paradox. Trauma changes us in permanent and enduring ways. But we have a choice about the outcome of our story. We can bemoan our fate as victims…Or we can recognize our pain and follow the circumstances of our lives into unforeseen directions and new meanings. We can ask: What does this terrible wound inspire me to do that I would never have thought to do otherwise?”

That is my life’s story.

That is why I went to therapy, to grapple with, to wrestle with that, to arrive there—

To be able to fully embrace my agency that I did have in light of two family members completing story. The iconic, existential and metaphysical question of my life became:

What can I do with this wound? How can it inspire me? How can I turn it into wisdom? What good can I bring about from this—both in my own lives and in the lives of others to help, to be of assistance, to alleviate the load of others with similar stories?

I find it most haunting the part that Firestone discusses when she notes that often times those affected by trauma find themselves in similar situations again, whether that’s in war or combat, or sexual assault, etc, etc.

It’s devastating. It’s creepy.

I certainly consider that as I reflect on my own family’s story, and how eerie it was that my brother exited this life in the same exact way that my dad, despite his anger towards him. And also despite him preaching adamantly against the taking of one’s own life.

Watching his video preaching that message.

Reading this point that Firestone makes also gave me chills.

And yet, also, still, there is good that can come from this as well.

Firestone, whose brother also completed suicide, writes this:

“I found myself caring for others who had lost loved ones to suicide, counseling friends who were having suicidal fantasies, writing letters to bereaved family members who were suffering this unique grief that I knew so well. My own tragedy had given me special entry into places where others could not go. I knew this territory firsthand, and therefore I could be trusted to help others through it. It was as if the world had recruited me for this special purpose.”

/nods. I relate.

I consider that parallel to my own experience, thinking back to how often students have disclosed to me suicides of partners, brothers, parents, even when I did not share with them the suicides within my own family.

It sometimes feels as if I too have been recruited for this special purpose.

Sometimes I embrace that, the agency, feeling that I can help to tend to my own wounds and try to do some good from this shit and pain and tragedy. Quite frankly, at other times, I get saddened and frustrated that this must be the most distinguishing/unique thing about me and my life. Not something I did, but something that happened to me.

However, I know that’s not true and only part of the story. The other part that I must remember that it is not only because I have trauma and PTSD and C-PTSD. But it is because of what I have chosen to do with it that, in spite of all of that, to do the work and healing to strive toward PTG as well.

The agency must come from also taking ownership of my story and my family’s history, of which I cannot change, and instead to decide and to commit to both ensuring that my life decisions, story and ending are very different than theirs. And also to holding space and listening to and hearing the pain of others who have also suffered grave tragedies and losses.

Even when they are dissimilar to mine, and I can’t exactly relate, such as with the death of a child, which no parent should ever have to endure—

I can still hold space, having compassion and empathy and love for another’s suffering.

I may not relate to the exact suffering or tragedy, but I do know what it is like to have people look at you in horror, suddenly awkward and embarrassed and deeply, bodily uncomfortable, when they know what you’ve been through, as they utter

“I can’t imagine…”

“You’re so strong….so resilient.”

And to that, I think, both:

1—”Thank you.

2—"It’s not like I had any fucking choice in what happened... What else could I do?”

Now, I get that I did have some choice, but at times, I feel the need to remind them (though I don’t say anything, but I think—), that I still had to take care of my mother, finish my doctorate, and get up and go to work. Curling up in the fetal position permanently was not a viable option.

Ultimately, perhaps also, it goes back to that life is just simply not fucking fair, and less fair to some over others—like those survivors of the Holocaust and the descendents carrying all of that intergenerational trauma, affected by the epigenetic differences.

But I guess it’s ultimately what we do with it.

I want to heal and grow and do my part to write of what I’ve learned, and to share my story. It helps and heals me and ultimately, I sincerely hope it may help others to do so, amidst all the shit and not fairness of this world and individual lives.

That is the deepest desire of my life and—quite honestly—I feel like will be my life’s work complete.

A-fucking-men.