No Hierarchy of Pain

Harm isn’t just about what someone does—it’s also about what others fail to do. The way people, communities, and systems respond to our pain can deeply shape our experience. When harm is ignored or minimized, or when no one steps in to help, those moments can leave lasting wounds. Sometimes, it’s the lack of protection, acknowledgment, and care that impacts us the most.

Trauma is such a complex and deeply personal experience. It can come from what many might label as “big” events, but also from moments that seem small on the surface—yet leave lasting imprints. The truth is, there is no hierarchy of pain. What affects one person deeply may not affect another in the same way, and that doesn’t make either experience more or less valid.

I remember being in middle school. Growing up, my parents always taught me to love my curly hair—it was a part of me that was celebrated. But when I got to school, that narrative quickly changed. I was picked on for my frizzy curls. One moment, in particular, has stayed with me. A boy laughed and called me a “fuzz ball.” But if I’m being honest, it wasn’t his words that hurt the most.

It was the laughter that followed.

It was the echoes of my classmates joining in.
It was the silence of those who could have said something—but didn’t.

For me, this moment was traumatic. 

Fast forward to now, as a therapist, I’ve sat with so many different stories—bullying, loss, abandonment, grief. And what I’ve come to understand is this: no trauma is “worse” than another. Each experience shapes us in unique ways. Each one deserves to be seen, acknowledged, and held with care.

Part of my own healing came from reclaiming the very thing I was once made to feel insecure about—my curly hair. Learning to accept it again wasn’t just about appearance; it was about reclaiming a part of myself that had been shamed.

And deeper than that, it was about learning to accept all parts of myself.

Healing, I’ve learned, isn’t about becoming a perfect version of ourselves. It’s about expanding our capacity to hold everything we are—the confident parts, the wounded parts, the resilient parts, and the still-healing parts.

As a therapist, I want you to know that you are allowed to be all of it.
You are worthy of compassion in every version of yourself.