What Trauma Steals, and How We Take It Back

This week on Guest Post Tuesday, I'm proud to feature a deeply moving piece from

Whitney

, the author behind Bless This Grief on Substack. Whitney writes with a clarity that cuts straight through illusion—and this essay is no exception.

In it, she draws a striking and unforgettable parallel between trauma and identity theft. Not the kind that locks you out of your email, but the kind that quietly hijacks your voice, your body, and your sense of safety. Whitney’s words remind us that healing isn't just about recovery—it's about rebuilding the internal firewalls that protect our deepest sense of self.

This is one of the most powerful guest posts I’ve ever published. It belongs in every inbox. Read it slowly. Share it widely.

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We usually think of identity theft as a technical issue. A digital violation. Someone hacks your accounts, steals your passwords, uses your name to do damage you’re left to clean up.

I know that kind of identity theft.

I’ve had my accounts compromised. My information misused.

But that’s not the first time someone took my identity.

Long before anyone logged in with my credentials, someone accessed my life through violence. They breached the borders of my body. They stole access to my voice, my timing, my privacy. And for years, I lived in the aftermath of that breach, trying to make sense of a life that didn’t feel like mine.

That’s the thing most people don’t understand about trauma: it is identity theft.

Not just figuratively—literally.

It steals your ability to say no.

It scrambles your sense of what’s safe.

It reroutes your decision-making system through fear, control, and hypervigilance.

It installs internal surveillance programs that constantly scan for danger, and it runs those programs 24/7—even when you’re trying to sleep, make love, create art, or just be still.

And just like malware in a system, trauma doesn’t always announce itself. It shows up in strange places:

• That moment you freeze instead of speaking up.

• The urge to please, apologize, or disappear.

• The chronic suspicion that you’re not safe—even in a locked room.

• The belief that your worth is tied to being useful, perfect, or silent.

People often ask: How do I know if I’ve experienced trauma?

Here’s my answer: If parts of your life feel like they’re running on someone else’s script—someone else’s hands on the controls—you’re not broken. You’re breached.

And just like digital identity theft, that breach isn’t your fault.

But healing from it? That’s your right. Your responsibility. Your power.

Healing is Cybersecurity for the Soul

In my work guiding trauma survivors, I often describe healing as a kind of system audit.

You go deep inside your inner architecture and ask:

• What’s mine, and what was planted here by someone else?

• Where are the vulnerabilities in my boundaries, my voice, my body?

• What needs to be patched, removed, or rewritten entirely?

You learn to build new firewalls:

Emotional firewalls. Somatic firewalls. Relational firewalls.

Not to keep love out, but to keep you in.

To stop the constant leaking of energy into old patterns and power imbalances.

To protect the sacred data that lives in your body—your intuition, your no, your pleasure, your timing, your truth.

And just like in tech, this isn’t a one-time fix.

Healing requires updates. New protocols. Ongoing maintenance.

You learn to notice when your system slows down, when it crashes, when it reverts to old behaviors after a stressor. You notice when you’ve given too much access to someone who hasn’t earned it.

Healing means learning to ask hard questions like:

• Am I in this relationship because it feels like home—or because it feels like the chaos I was trained to survive?

• Am I saying yes because I want to, or because I don’t know how to say no?

• Am I being honest, or just agreeable?

• What am I protecting, and what am I outsourcing?

This is deep work.

It’s not just about feeling better—it’s about coming home to yourself.

It’s about rebuilding the person that trauma tried to erase.

You Are the System Worth Protecting

Most security systems are built around the assumption that something valuable is being guarded.

Your bank account. Your data. Your identity.

Let me say this as clearly as I can:

You are valuable.

Even if you were taught otherwise. Even if your sense of self was taken from you. Even if you’re just starting to believe it.

Your story. Your body. Your mind. Your future.

It’s all worth protecting.

So much of my healing has been learning to revalue myself after the kind of systemic and personal exploitation that told me I didn’t matter.

I had to build new firewalls—boundaries that didn’t rely on fear, but on self-respect.

I had to change my passwords—shifting from self-sacrifice to self-honoring.

I had to recognize the red flags I once ignored—and learn to walk away even when it hurt.

Most of all, I had to recover my name.

Not just legally or digitally.

But spiritually.

Energetically.

Somatically.

The most dangerous form of identity theft is the one that convinces you you’re not allowed to exist as yourself.

Healing is the slow, defiant reclamation of that right.

Final Words

If you’re someone who’s survived trauma, and especially if you’ve also experienced digital identity theft or online harassment, I want you to hear this:

You are not weak.

You are not broken.

You are not a system beyond repair.

You are a living, breathing, evolving intelligence.

You are a network of intuition, memory, resilience, and desire.

And no matter how many breaches you’ve endured, you can rebuild.

Your healing is your firewall.

Your voice is your password.

Your presence is your encryption.

And you get to decide who has access.

Let the world know: you are no longer running on stolen code.

Thank you so much

Whitney

for this beautifully written and heartfelt piece.

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Until next time…

Stay Informed. Stay Secure. Stay Curious.