6 Helpful Truths About Trauma From a Special-Needs Cat
By: Megan Brown
Tags: Mental Health, Advice, Pets, Self, Psychology

My beloved cat Calvin came centimeters away from blinding me with his claws. There’s a cool scar under my left eye as a reminder each time I see my reflection. As I mentioned in another piece, Calvin’s semi-regular attacks landed me in both the minor med and the hospital. When I first brought him home when he was a kitten, he was sweet and playful. His aggression didn’t begin until he grew up. Instability in our living situation during his development is one likely culprit of his occasional aggressive behavior.

Oh, how I can relate.

My cat’s life changes were my life changes, too, after all. This time in our lives tested my mental health as well. At least I understood what was happening, though. Calvin could not. These changes and our respective reactions to them affected our relationship with each other as well — at first for the worse.

Initially, I distanced myself from Calvin out of fear he would hurt me again. Even worse, he became the black sheep of the household because I villainized him. He developed a reputation among friends and family who knew he could be violent. Even as his behavior has improved, that stigma remains.

Curiosity about his aggression and how to manage it eventually showed me our similarities. My own unresolved trauma made me react to certain situations in the same way he did — lashing out in anger and fear — and driving people away while building up a bad reputation of my own. Perhaps the distance I tried to create between us was a product of the fact that I saw myself in him — and it was something I didn’t feel ready to confront.

What is trauma, and what are triggers?

What Calvin and I have both experienced is trauma. Trauma isn’t always like scenes from war movies or intense TV shows. Far from it. Trauma can come from any overwhelming experience such as emotional abuse, death of a loved one, loss of a relationship, parental neglect, bullying, car accidents, hospitalizations, being fired or laid off from a job, or any number of other things.

Some trauma might seem relatively minor in comparison to physical abuse. But despite anyone’s attempts to minimize them, including your own, these experiences are anything but minor. Their effects are long-lasting and prevalent around the world. One study of the general population of 24 countries concluded that 70 percent of people worldwide will experience at least one traumatic event in their lives. The same study shows that 30 percent will experience four traumas — or more.

Since Calvin and I have both experienced trauma, we both have triggers. Triggers are stimuli that consciously or unconsciously remind us of past traumatic events. Some of the things that trigger us we’ve learned together. Some we still don’t know.

Calvin taught me the following lessons about managing my trauma and my daily reactions to what triggers me. I hope they help you on your journey to recovery, too.

Lesson #1: Dysregulation is a sign of trauma.

Do you ever have trouble regulating your emotions or your nervous system? For example, a minor inconvenience at work might cause rage, tension, or heart palpitations for hours after the event. Maybe someone’s offhand comment bugs you so much you find yourself replaying it in your mind for the rest of the week.

Dysregulation involves difficulty getting back to a comfortable baseline state— whether on an emotional, physical, cognitive, physiological, or interpersonal level.

I struggle with emotional regulation. I’m also highly sensitive to my environment — hypervigilant. Places where most people feel calm often feel unsafe for me—my stomach cramps. Sometimes my heart palpitates or even hurts — a terrifying experience for someone who also happens to have a heart condition. Calvin has similar issues. He’s sensitive to his environment, which makes him fearful and defensive over things that aren’t dangerous.

Sudden intense feelings can be terrifying if you don’t understand what’s happening to you. I felt that way for years — especially as a child. It must be just as terrifying for a cat. That’s why I do everything in my power to help him feel safe.

According to research, “emotional regulation appears to develop in the context of responsive caregiving and peer involvement in early life.” Similarly, Calvin’s struggles stem from major, unexpected life changes when he was still growing. Like Calvin, I went through my fair share of rapid life changes in early childhood. My trauma-induced dysregulation comes from a mix of childhood and adulthood traumas — namely, my dysfunctional upbringing.

Ironically, many traumatic things for my cat were traumatic for me as well — just in different ways. For example, my ex-boyfriend, who Calvin had been attached to since he was tiny, moved out and never returned. A stranger moved in with us. Less than a year later, that stranger moved out, and someone new moved in — with a dog. Calvin had never seen a dog before in his life. It didn’t start well, and it never got better until they moved out. All of this happened in his first two years of life and my first two years living independently. The parallels were numerous.

Lesson # 2: You can get triggered without knowing why.

Sometimes we get upset or dysregulated without understanding the reason. Was it a certain word in a conversation? Did I hear a song or a sound that unconsciously reminded me of a traumatic memory? Maybe I saw a specific color? It could be anything.

Similar situations happen to my cat. Many times, especially when his aggressive behavior first started, Calvin’s violence was a mystery to me. When he, unprovoked, lashed out at me, my other cat, or my roommate’s dog, I had no idea what triggered it. Doling out wounds isn’t normally in his nature — he’s sweet and cuddly nine times out of ten. That’s why I knew that there was something deeper to his behavior.

Through my own healing process, I noticed that, in this way, I could relate to him. Occasionally, my mood sours halfway through the day. Maybe I, unprovoked, snap at my boyfriend. Sometimes when I analyze my own behavior, I can’t explain it— no matter how many journal entries I write or therapy sessions I attend.

Lesson # 3: You can manage these triggers if you have a plan.

When Calvin is triggered, he flies into a rage and bites people or other animals. Truthfully, it’s not uncommon for me to do the same thing — minus the biting. The pain I inflict on others is emotional rather than physical. I knew that there had to be a better way for us to have a peaceful household. Little did I know that my process toward achieving that for my cat turned into a practice I could use to improve my inner life too. And when you improve your inner life, more often than not, you improve the lives of those around you too — through your behavior.

A framework for measuring emotional regulation is known as the “window of tolerance” — a mental zone sandwiched between hyperarousal and underreaction to an event. Trauma can shrink this window of tolerance.

By working with Calvin on his aggressive behavior, I learned that I could take steps to regulate my emotions and get back to baseline — effectively expanding my window of tolerance.

I started keeping a “trigger journal” for my cat. Every time I noticed Calvin becoming agitated or aggressive, I wrote down every detail of the events leading up to it.

This included sensory things like sounds and smells. I also included any new objects brought into the house from outside — whether shopping bags or leaves I’d tracked in on my feet. I also noticed any coinciding events — like an ambulance siren or a car alarm outside or a sudden, startling noise from the TV or me when I stubbed my toe.

The first time he redirected his aggression on my leg after hearing a loud noise or seeing an animal outside, I had no clue what was happening with my cat. When it happened a couple more times, I started noticing a pattern.

After I had continued this practice for a while and started narrowing down Calvin’s triggers, it dawned on me. I can apply the same principle to my own triggers, too! Now, when I find myself angry, sad, or anxious and can’t figure out why, I follow a similar process. I go to my journal. I record sounds, smells, and sights. I write down the conversations I’ve had with others and the feelings their statements and body language brought up within me. Once I figure it out, I can adjust my environment or set boundaries accordingly. It’s like being a detective solving a mystery. Paying attention to these clues can lead you to seeing the bigger picture of your overall mental health and the steps necessary to improve it.

Just like I pay attention to my cat’s body language to understand when he’s triggered, I’ve gotten better over time at listening to the signals my own body is sending me. The signals I look for in my cat are external. Within myself, they’re a mix of internal and external.

This experience taught me that, just like people, cats can also have triggers. If I can work toward a greater understanding of an animal that can’t even talk, surely I can learn to understand myself better and what makes me tick. And if I can do it, anyone can — alone or with help from a therapist.

Lesson # 4: Managing triggers is an ongoing process that takes time — maybe forever — and that’s okay.

Once I started to understand Calvin’s triggers, I thought things would get better right away. But they didn’t. Living with something you weren’t aware of before is a learning and unlearning process. It takes time to adjust.

Calvin’s attacks on me and my other cat have lessened — but it’s not necessarily because he’s “cured” of his aggression. I’ve learned to manage his environment better through trial and error.

Understanding this made me find a sense of acceptance that healing is a journey that isn’t always linear with humans, either. Triggers and trauma can resurface.

Accept and love yourself. Also, accept that this nonlinear process is part of your story the same way I accepted and loved my cat when I understood that these reactions were part of his. This isn’t to say that you should form your whole identity around the fact that you have trauma — in fact, doing so can make your recovery more difficult. Rather than an identity marker, trigger management and trauma recovery are ongoing processes we can choose every day.

Recovery doesn’t have to mean finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow engraved with the words “Congratulations! You’re cured!” Good mental health is not a destination — it’s a mode of travel that can be mastered with healthy choices and consistent practice. Be patient with yourself as you commit to your unique recovery process.

Over time you’ll notice that you get triggered less easily. Coping becomes easier. Your mental health can get better, and as we know, improved mental health leads to improved physical health.

Lesson #5: Healthy coping strategies are important to make you feel safe and in control again.

Once you are on the road to managing your triggers, it becomes clear that part of the process is learning how to cope once you’re triggered.

For my cat, this involves separating him from the rest of the household until he is calm by putting him in a low lit room for a while. It can also look like playing calming music, sprinkling catnip, or plugging in a feline pheromone diffuser.

For me, this can involve mindful meditation or yoga, journaling, booking a therapy session, taking a warm bubble bath in a candlelit bathroom, or listening to calming music or binaural beats.

It’s kind of funny to me how similar my and Calvin’s healthy coping mechanisms can be even though we’re different species. As a bonus, we can do some of those things together, which deepens our relationship.

Let me stress the importance of these coping mechanisms being “healthy.” Not all ways of coping are considered healthy. Substance abuse will only numb you in the present moment. In the long run, it will likely only make your problem worse. It’s only another means of losing control, and more often than not, you’ll end up back where you started — hurting others and hurting yourself.

Lesson #6: Your difficulty regulating your trauma responses can make it hard for people to trust you.

The first time Calvin attacked me, I tried to talk to my mom about it. She asked: “Why don’t you just have him put to sleep?” After all, in her eyes, there was obviously something wrong with him. He was clearly dangerous. He couldn’t be trusted. I was shocked and outraged. Perhaps these words stung so much because they came from my own mother, whose actions or lack thereof were the source of at least a small portion of my unresolved trauma.

The implications of her question made my blood run cold. I don’t have kids. Caring for my pets is the closest thing I’ll ever have to parenthood. Her comment hurt because I know from experience that having difficult emotions and the gall to express them often makes those around you want to give up on you. You’re too dangerous — too volatile. You might hurt yourself or someone around you. You adjust to keep yourself safe and to keep others safe as well. But these methods of adjustment aren’t always healthy. It hurts to feel abandoned and alone when you’re afraid or in pain, and it certainly doesn’t make things any easier to navigate. If you tend to lash out or isolate yourself when your mental illness flares up, it’s hard to get the help you so desperately need.

Writing about my childhood trauma in tandem with my cat’s trauma and learning to manage them both made me realize that my traumas as a child were my mother’s traumas as an adult. Like me, she also endured the stress of adulthood (and parenthood) with unresolved childhood trauma. That had a direct impact on her ability to parent. Understanding this complex dance has cemented my decision not to have children. My cat is my child as far as I’m concerned. And at the very least, another living creature has benefitted from these patterns of generational healing of pain — even if he is feline rather than human.

All that said, people have a right to protect their own mental health too if they’re struggling and your behavior negatively impacts them. When your mental illness acts up, you can hurt the people you love most. Sometimes those people will have a hard time trusting you again. In fact, you might lose people. They might give up on you or distance themselves to protect their own mental health. That’s their own choice to make. But just because they make that choice doesn’t mean that your trauma is your fault or that there’s anything unnatural or invalid about what you’re feeling or experiencing. This is a personal experience for everyone, and you shouldn’t listen to anyone telling you how to heal, how fast you should be healing, or when your healing is complete.

Struggles dealing with trauma can cause people and animals to lash out when triggered, making it hard for others to trust them.

For example, my other cat, Hobbes, has developed anxiety from being repeatedly attacked by Calvin. Even though Calvin’s behavior has improved, Hobbes still sometimes hisses at him and runs away, even when Calvin seems to have good intentions. I was the same way around Calvin for a while too. This seems to make him want to lash out even more. It’s like he can sense our fear of him, and it makes him self-conscious.

This feeds into a very negative, continuous cycle. Others decide to protect themselves from your behavior by withdrawing. Then, you internalize it, and you withdraw too. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Instead of feeling fear when tough feelings and emotions arise, you can try to be curious instead.

Once I got curious about how I could make things easier for Calvin, the better things got. The same was true of my own reactions to things. Perhaps this was also true of my mom’s reaction to hearing about Calvin’s problems. She was used to jumping to conclusions rather than being curious about how to solve problems like these. She was used to being hurt and then withdrawing, too. It’s a hard habit to break. But the attempt to break it is vital.