A Clinical Autobiography: From Childhood Through Whoredom and Substance Use
By: Lillian Hatch, MHS, BA-PSY, CADC/CODP1, CCTP, CPRS, QMHP
I write these words not merely to document my life but to reach across the silence that often shrouds childhood trauma. This autobiography emerges from a deep conviction that our stories can serve as bridges—connecting those who feel isolated in their pain to a community of understanding and hope.
Statistics tell us that social isolation compounds the effects of trauma, but numbers alone cannot capture the visceral loneliness of believing that your experiences exist in a void. I lived in that isolation for too long before discovering that millions share similar struggles. This revelation was my first real breath in the journey toward healing.
Creating connection through shared experience is my primary purpose. When we see our own pain reflected in another's story, something profound happens—the shame begins to dissolve, replaced by a tentative sense of belonging. At the same time, I hope to illuminate the reality of Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) and childhood PTSD for those who have not experienced them firsthand. Understanding fosters compassion, and compassion fuels change. Trauma patterns can be interrupted when recognized early.
My artistic lens offers a unique way to explore these difficult realities. Through these pages, I demonstrate how creative expression can transform pain into purpose, and isolation into community. Poetry became my salvation—the only language I had for emotions too complex or painful to express outright.
This is not simply a retelling of painful events. It is a testament to resilience and the remarkable capacity we all possess to heal and grow beyond our wounds. I share both the darkness and the light, believing that authenticity in both is necessary for this story to fulfill its purpose.
If you are reading this as someone who has experienced similar trauma, this narrative is my hand reaching toward yours. You are not alone. Your experiences matter. Your healing journey may look different from mine, but it is equally possible and equally important.
For those fortunate enough to have been spared such experiences, I invite you to read with an open heart. Your understanding and advocacy are vital in creating a world where fewer children suffer in silence.
This autobiography serves both as witness and guide—bearing witness to the reality of childhood trauma while guiding toward possibilities for healing and transformation. Through these pages, I hope to inspire not just awareness, but action—whether through seeking help, offering support, or breaking the silence that allows childhood trauma to perpetuate across generations.
Understanding ACEs and Childhood PTSD
The first time I heard the term Adverse Childhood Experiences—ACEs—it was as though someone had finally given a name to the storms of my childhood. These experiences are not merely painful memories; they are profound disruptions that reshape a child's development. They include physical and emotional abuse, neglect, household dysfunction, exposure to violence, and having a family member with mental illness or substance abuse issues. Their impact is magnified by their timing—occurring during the most vulnerable stages of growth.
For me, understanding ACEs was like discovering the missing piece in a puzzle I'd been trying to solve my entire life. Research reveals that these experiences do not merely cause emotional distress—they literally rewire developing brains, altering how stress is processed, danger is perceived, and attachments are formed.
The body keeps the score when the mind tries to forget. This phrase became my mantra as I learned about childhood PTSD—the lingering effects of trauma long after the immediate danger had passed. Unlike adult PTSD, childhood trauma disrupts development and identity formation. It isn't just about flashbacks or nightmares (though I had my share); it’s about how the entire personality organizes itself around survival.
I experienced all of these, often without understanding why. Poetry became my lifeline—the one place where I could transform the chaos inside me into something meaningful.
What I’ve learned through both personal experience and advocacy is that naming trauma is the first step toward healing. There is tremendous power in recognizing that even the responses that seem problematic—hypervigilance, emotional numbing, dissociation—originated as adaptive strategies for survival.
The original ACE study, now an extensive body of research, revealed something profound: these experiences are incredibly common. About two-thirds of participants reported at least one ACE, and more than one in five reported three or more. Learning this statistic was both heartbreaking and strangely comforting—I was not alone, nor uniquely broken.
Most importantly, understanding ACEs and childhood PTSD helped me shift from shame to compassion. My question changed from What’s wrong with me? to What happened to me? This subtle but profound shift opens the door to healing instead of self-blame.
If you recognize yourself in these words, know this: your reactions made sense given what you experienced. The very responses that protected you in childhood—hypervigilance, emotional numbing, dissociation—may now limit your life, but they also testify to your remarkable capacity for survival. And if you survived, you can also heal.
Research on resilience offers profound hope. Even with high ACE scores, protective factors—such as having a stable, caring adult, developing skills for emotional regulation, building supportive social connections, and finding meaning through creative expression—dramatically improve outcomes.
For me, understanding trauma biology has been both intellectually illuminating and emotionally transformative. It helped me recognize my triggers and develop compassion for my responses. But beyond personal healing, this understanding fuels my advocacy—because when we know better, we do better for future generations.
The shadow of childhood trauma may always be part of my story, but it no longer defines the whole narrative. Knowledge has been the key that unlocked a different future—not only for myself but for all the children who might be spared this pain through greater awareness, advocacy, and action.
