Sometimes labels are better than no labels
How a label shed light at the end of the tunnel
In school we are taught the importance of labels. We are being taught that by knowing what is what we are able to make sense of the world, we can draw conclusions, deliver explanations.
Later in life media and news tell us to stop using labels: We don’t need to label people’s sexuality, people’s relationship status doesn’t matter, their political affiliation is none of our business. Labels become something negative — a tool of opresson.
I do agree with the fact that labels in terms of other people and their existence do not matter — at all!. In terms of that, they hinder us, they elicit our close mindedness, they hinder our equality and the list goes on.
However, the importance of labels in some scenarios shouldn’t be overlooked. Anyone who ever suffered from a physical injury or a mental illness knows what I’m talking about. Feeling off and tired or having pain that you cannot treat nor stop. The only relief that can be provided is a doctor’s diagnosis.
I had an experience that was certainly not a good one, until a label was introduced into my life.
After my accident, I didn’t feel well. Not physically, nor mentally. Since I took extremely strong pain medication for a long time, I blamed anything that went wrong with me and my mind on those pills. But even after some weeks, the state I was in persisted. The psychologists I had to talk to mentioned the term ‘trauma’ a few times, however I never really listened, perhaps since I didn’t know its true meaning. Not until I started to consult my good friend Google. In the first few months I didn’t dare to research anything related to my accident and my physical injuries. At that point I was still concerned about the state of my body, it possibly getting worse, more injuries being detected, more surgeries being needed. The constant whirring of machines, the chaos of nurses moving to and from rooms, the revolving door of other patients cohabitating with me, it was just not an environment in which I felt comfortable delving into the murky depths of what was wrong with me. I was in survival mode. Drink, eat, do what I’m told, distract myself from the pain, expend what little energy I have on the family and friends that so graciously visited me. Nothing more. When I started googling, I was out of the hospital, had left rehabs, and I was at my parent’s place.
After all the turmoil, I had arrived at a safer place. I felt safe enough to find out more about the things that were going on in my body, that I didn’t know anything about. I typed trauma into the search box and was presented with many articles, personal stories and studies. The first article I clicked on explained the symptoms of a trauma. It matched 100% with what I was feeling and what I wasn’t feeling. It explained the increase of my fear and anxiety, it explained why I felt tired and exhausted 24/7 and it revealed why I was feeling sad and hopeless. Especially the hopelessness, was something I wasn’t even able to identify prior. It creeped up on me daily, when I was a little bit down, or had a slightly unexpected experience. Reading more about this however, lit up a light at the end of the tunnel. It was small and dull, but exactly what I needed. Whenever I then came into a situation that made me for instance withdraw from social situations or that triggered my self blame, I could in turn blame my trauma instead of myself. I finally felt seen and heard by the world, I felt that there was some solace in knowing that other people are dealing with the same thing or similar things that I was — it helped to know people worked through their trauma and most importantly, were open to speak abot it.
This helped me immensely. I could then tell myself, that this negativity, this hopelessness, and the moodiness isn’t me, it is only the trauma I am suffering from. Only the existence of a possible healing path sparked hope in me. From the beginning on, I was assured the path being a long one, more a highway lane across the country. One with many stones and speed bumps on it. Finally, I was introduced to a capable and experienced psychologist, persuading me of being strong enough to push the stones out of the way, and able to learn how to cross the speed bumps in my own speed.
And while the label per se wasn’t an enjoyable one, it answered the big why that was plaguing my thoughts. I stopped wondering what is wrong with me and my body, I stopped doubting myself. I gained back by learning that what I suffer from can be healed. Being able to logically disconnect my self from the label that causes me suffering allows me to understand that nothing is wrong with me, there are just things from which I am suffering. Where sudden helplessness or despair is a feeling that is overwhelming, trauma is a word and a Thing that can be challenged, confronted through therapy, and worked on. Working through trauma is no cakewalk, don’t get me wrong. This requires a lot of work, understandably for people who never suffered from anything like this, empathized by people dealing with a similar situation. This kind of work includes the toughest of them all:
Working on yourself while working with yourself.
It means fighting your inner demons while dealing with continuous mood changes and learning how to be more patient with yourself.
To sum it up: What we should be taught instead is the interchangeability of labels. Yes, in many cases they are unnecessary, underrated and not needed. These kind of labels that we put on other people can be limiting and discriminatory. I would never promote labeling someone else, there is no value in that kind of label. In some cases, however, labels are life changing, maybe even lifesaving.
But now I want to learn more about you: Are there instances where a label introduced a positive change in your life? Let me know in the comments!
Check out my Instagram: @rejuvenationstation
