EDIT (2023): This piece was published when the publication was newly launched in the fall of 2022 under the name Princess and the Pea. The metaphor and message still hold, although the name has changed to In Conscious Motion. See this post about the decision to change the name:
Welcome to my publication! Thanks for joining in as I explore cultural beliefs about trauma and recovery, the (often harmful) myths that persist, and our yearning for the seemingly unattainable Holy Grail of Life: healing. These may seem like heavy topics - and they can be - but my hope is to explore these ideas in an engaging way. But on to the matter at hand - why did I name this newsletter “Princess and the Pea”?
I chose this name as a nod to Hans Christian Andersen’s classic childhood story about the rain-drenched princess arriving at the doorstep of a palace who is not believed to be royalty due to her messy appearance. As such, she is tested. That night, a pea is placed without her knowledge underneath several mattress layers. The next morning, she proclaims to have had a poor night’s sleep and is bruised, insisting something hard in the bedding hurt her. The royal family immediately declare her to be a “real” princess since it would only be someone of royal pedigree who would notice the tiny imperfection in the way the bed was prepared. A fake princess would not notice. Only a real princess would have such profound sensitivity as to be disrupted by a tiny object wedged deep in the mattress.
I consider this story to be a metaphor for trauma with the princess being a survivor. Those who have experienced trauma and are in recovery have a certain sensitivity that is not well understood by those who haven’t experienced it. While sometimes the “pea” can be as large as a golf ball or even a bowling ball, depending on how recent the trauma, how ongoing the trauma is, how triggered the PTSD has been that day, nevertheless, those who live every day with the residual effects of trauma have some sort of “pea” that puts us in the category of princess: someone who, no matter how drained and unkempt and upsetting other people may see us as, is waiting to be seen as the beloved person we are, as the worthy princess deserving of care, and that our sensitivity is worth being tended to.
What I aim to provide here is some much needed tending. I offer…
Words – since words are often lost in trauma.
Validation – since survivors often struggle to have their stories validated.
A Shared Space – for understanding, since trauma is often misunderstood by those who cannot comprehend the discomfort of the “pea”, making the recovery and healing process, more often than not, isolating.
And finally, I aim to offer a path - not the path because yours will be different - but maybe by sharing some of mine, yours can become clearer.
I welcome you here, fellow princess*.
I won’t tell you to be strong, but only to carry on.
Faith
*while the term “princess” is gendered in our culture and comes from well-established patriarchal ideas of how women and girls should present, I would like to turn this view on its head, in the spirit of our post-modern world that embraces all gender expressions on the spectrum. Princess, as I use it here, is a term of endearment, offered to fellow survivors, female, male and nonbinary, on the trauma-healing path, no matter how you identify.
If you know someone who might like this post, please share it.
Read Part 2 to my Introduction here.
Looking forward to reading more, Faith!