Gay Men and Trauma Recovery: Reclaiming Your Life

What is Trauma?

After being a gay men’s specialist therapist for 30 years now (in 2022), I am often humbled by the opportunity to be of service to gay men from many backgrounds—different ages, races, ethnicities, nationalities, and professions. Over time, you learn a lot not only about gay men and gay male couples, but also about life.

One thing I see over and over is that our lives—every one of us—are a mix of good experiences and bad experiences. Sometimes both in the same week, or even the same day.

In my work (therapy and coaching), I help clients leverage their strengths—what clinical social workers call a “strengths-based perspective”—and cope with challenges, including diagnosable psychiatric disorders when they’re present. My training includes psychiatric social work, and later I became an AASECT Certified Sex Therapist. These days I do a lot of both.

Shakespeare captured this duality well: “The web of our lives is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together…” (As You Like It).

From a secular point of view, it’s still easy to see this: we get up each day hoping for the good stuff, but as we all know, life doesn’t cooperate. We’re taught to expect a reasonably civilized world: rules, safety, predictability. And then life teaches us—sometimes early—that the sense of safety we were promised can be breached in ways that overwhelm our defenses.

That experience—when something hits us beyond our ability to cope—can be trauma.

Trauma is what happens when we are overwhelmed by an experience, individually or collectively. At one time it was defined narrowly as “life-threatening” or “outside the realm of normal human functioning,” but that language has evolved. What feels “outside normal” for one person may be daily life for another, such as someone living in a war zone.

In trauma, the experience overwhelms our expectations and our coping capacity. We don’t know what to do with it. Nobody taught us that this could happen.

Collectively, 9/11 was such an event. It was similar to the shock of Pearl Harbor in 1941: waking up into a different world. There are many non-Western examples of this kind of collective rupture, too.

Individually, trauma can take many forms. In my work with clients, I’ve heard stories that are heartbreaking, and also deeply human: childhood sexual abuse; severe illness; disability; vehicle accidents; workplace injuries; natural disasters; violent crime; and also “non-violent” harms that still cut deeply—being canceled, doxxed, stalked, catfished, having your identity stolen, being blackmailed.

Trauma can also come from institutions: corporations, courts, universities, insurance companies, police forces, the military, even a homeowners association. It can be the loss of a loved one, a breakup, the loss of money, work, health, housing, comfort, functioning, dignity, or safety.

It’s any time the implied promise of safety we were raised with gets shredded by an experience that proves otherwise.

Breaking the Promise of Safety

We see that implied promise everywhere. Fairy tales end with “happily ever after.” Cop shows catch the bad guy. Relationships kiss and make up. Lost objects get found. Courtroom dramas deliver justice just in time. Parents teach not only what life is, but what it should be—often through a controversial set of cultural ideals.

And then something happens and we feel: “Hey—wait. This wasn’t supposed to happen. What is this?”

Sometimes the perpetrators are the very people who taught us about safety in the first place—custodians of safety we trusted, like parents, teachers, coaches, clergy. That betrayal is its own mind-bending layer of trauma.

It’s often at that first rupture—when the “rules” of expected safety break—that trauma takes hold. Then we’re left not only dealing with what happened, but also with the shock that nobody warned us life could go there.

Trauma as Neurobiology

Trauma is cultural, social, and psychological. It’s also neurobiological.

One of the biggest changes in psychotherapy training from when I was in school (late 80s/early 90s) to what I later taught in psychotherapy practice models is the expanded role of neurobiology. This isn’t about making therapy sound “medical” to legitimize it. Therapy was always legitimate—especially when it’s grounded in evidence-based practice.

Evidence-based practice means using intervention models that have been studied and shown to help, at least for the client groups studied. Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy is evidence-based. Psychodynamic therapy is evidence-based. Dialectical Behavioral Therapy is evidence-based. Treatments like “sex addiction” are not. Evidence-based practice protects consumers from charlatanism.

Trauma matters so much to the human brain that it recruits many systems at once. Being a Brain-Wise Therapist by Bonnie Badenoch is a great resource on this.

She describes how traumatic experiences can be recorded in the right hemisphere almost like a video camera, and then “processed” into coherent narrative by the left hemisphere through language (“talk therapy”) or other expression (art therapy, collage, and other expressive therapies).

In therapy, mirror neurons between the client and therapist become part of what helps the work happen. Healing isn’t only insight. It’s nervous system regulation, trust, and the experience of being understood—ideally in a culturally competent context (including gay-affirmative work with gay men).

The fact that the brain activates so strongly during and after trauma tells us something: humans know when something has overwhelmed them, and the mind mobilizes toward defense and healing—much like the immune system does after injury or infection.

Over time, people often develop PTSD symptoms, or variations of trauma fallout: substance use problems, compulsive habits, avoidance patterns, and other maladaptive coping strategies that need replacing with healthier ones.

There’s a paradox here: part of psychological resilience is accepting that the default promise of safety will have exceptions. There will be betrayals. There will be breakdowns. There will be moments when human goodwill fails. Exceptions to the rule are part of the rule.

Taking Our Turn

When “bad things happen to good people”—as the old saying (and book title) goes—I call that “our turn.” It’s rare, some would say impossible, to get through life unscathed.

Taking our turn can happen in many ways, and sometimes more than once. Just because we survived one trauma doesn’t mean we won’t face another.

A Holocaust survivor might have her purse snatched decades later. Someone laid off six weeks before retirement can come home to a burglary. A childhood abuse survivor can discover professional betrayal and face consequences they did not create. That’s “our turn,” and it’s unfair how some people seem to get more than their share.

This is an existential dilemma. I’ve seen clients who truly did nothing to deserve what happened, and I’ve also seen people who seem to live under a lucky star for years.

No matter what “it” is, trauma happens. We can’t always prevent it. But we can cope with it after it happens.

Jack Canfield, in The Success Principles, teaches: “Event + Response = Outcome.” We can’t always control the event, but we can influence the outcome through our coping response—adaptive rather than maladaptive.

Louise Hay offered a simple guiding question: “How can I take a positive approach to this?” It can be a useful prompt for your next best cognitive and behavioral choice, even in a painful situation.

Life After Safety

After trauma, many people feel they live in a different world than the one they knew before. It’s a loss of innocence. Life moves forward, and we can’t return to “before.”

“Life after safety” means living with a modified safety: we accept that bad things can happen, and we also insist that many moments are still worth living.

In general, most people are sane, reasonably law-abiding, and of goodwill most of the time. The odds are usually in our favor. Still, “stuff” happens. We do our best to influence the odds: wear a seatbelt, lock the doors, watch your back, take care of your health, and manage money as well as you can.

Reclaiming Our Rights

The number-one word I use with trauma survivors in sessions is “reclaiming.” How do we reclaim our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness after someone—or some event—tried to take it from us?

In clinical work, I talk about rallying external resources: therapists, books, videos, service providers, supportive people, and practical stabilizers (including medication when appropriate, sleep, nutrition, structure). I also talk about rallying internal resources: determination, stamina, courage, persistence, tenacity, resilience, and resolve.

We reframe from being victims of what happened to being survivors. What they did is not the final word. We are not “down for the count.”

Cher’s “You Haven’t Seen the Last of Me” comes to mind, written by Diane Warren and featured in “Burlesque.” (For more on music as inspiration, see my article here.)

Over time, many survivors have internal “conversations” with perpetrators—sometimes in reality, more often in the mind. The task is to take the responsibility for the atrocity off your shoulders and place it back where it belongs.

There are perpetrators and victims, and what happened was wrong. This matters because clarity restores dignity. Many survivors struggle with this point, but it’s essential.

Even when justice isn’t served publicly, survivors can reclaim privately. You know what happened. You know the score. That knowledge can help you move forward without needing a courtroom to validate your reality.

Sometimes privilege wins and someone “gets away with it.” Even then, reclaiming is still possible. “Living well is the best revenge” is not just a slogan. It can become a strategy.

Healthy Anger and Dignity

In trauma recovery, I believe in the importance of healthy anger that restores dignity. Sometimes it isn’t just “back off.” It’s “back off, motherfucker.” Healthy anger can be part of reclaiming your rights after they were violated.

We affirm basic human rights: to live reasonably comfortably, to be with those we love, to be left alone when we want, to control our resources, and to control our bodies and consent.

Someone violated those rights. Recovery means taking them back—psychologically, relationally, and practically. It also means defining what “living well” looks like on the other side.

Living Well

Living well means reclaiming your self-esteem and self-concept. It means moving toward health, relationships that nourish you, and professional satisfaction. It means giving yourself access to joy and to meaningful roles in life.

If someone took those rights away for a while, the goal is that they don’t get to keep them. There’s a renewed vigor that comes with recovery.

For a powerful expression of this spirit, see Maya Angelou’s “And Still I Rise.”

Forgive and Forget?

Trauma has a special relationship to memory. We remember because the memories are felt—sometimes profoundly. Sometimes people remember the feelings more clearly than the details.

That’s why “forgive and forget” can feel absurd to many survivors. Many self-help traditions emphasize forgiveness, but forgiveness is not always required for healing.

I don’t believe in forgiveness without accountability, remorse, or justice from a human perpetrator. Many systems agree with that implicitly, which is why parole often requires contrition.

Whether you forgive, or whether you simply understand the perpetrator in a broader context over time, it’s still possible to move on.

Coping with Others

Adaptive coping after trauma involves work in relationships. That includes your relationship with yourself, including self-forgiveness when you blame yourself for what happened.

“If I hadn’t taken that shortcut, I wouldn’t have been mugged.” You may need to forgive yourself for that thinking. You had a right not to be harmed, no matter which street you took.

It also includes coping with professionals. Trauma survivors don’t owe anyone instant trust. In therapy, trust must be earned over time.

It includes coping with spouses and partners. Even if one person experienced the trauma, partners often live with the fallout too. Trauma becomes a system issue, not just an individual one.

Life Goes On

After trauma, life goes on. The sun rises. It doesn’t care. As Fred Ebb wrote for Liza Minnelli: “Sometimes you’re happy, and sometimes you’re sad, but the world goes ’round.”

So how is your ride going to be? Can you learn to live in a post-safety world? Can you take the good with the bad, even though you wish the bad had never happened?

You didn’t want this fight. But it came to you. And you had to fight back.

Making Meaning

Maybe the next best thing to the trauma never having happened is that you learn to cope with it. You find meaning—not by romanticizing what happened, but by recognizing what you learned about yourself, your values, your resilience, and your future.

How can I take a positive approach to this? Event + Response = Outcome. You haven’t seen the last of me. And the world goes ’round and ’round.

If you would like help or support for the traumas you’ve faced in your life, or help making your own world go ’round, consider therapy (for residents of California) or coaching services in other states or countries. If you’re looking for a public speaker, I do that. If you’re looking for an expert witness in LGBT+ or HIV/AIDS issues, or others, I do that. For more information, email Ken@GayTherapyLA.com, or call/text 310-339-5778.

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GayTherapyLA©
Therapy for gay men who want more than symptom relief — they want understanding, integration, and direction.

If this topic resonates, you’re not alone — and this is exactly the kind of work I do with men who want real, practical change, not just insight. I help clients turn understanding into action — improving confidence, relationships, and quality of life in a thoughtful, sex-positive, and affirming therapy space.

About the author

Ken Howard, LCSW, CST is a psychotherapist and AASECT-Certified Sex Therapist with over 30 years of experience working almost exclusively with gay men. A former USC faculty member, he is also the host of The Gay Therapy LA Podcast, where he explores the psychology, relationships, and inner lives of gay men — and he brings that same depth and practicality into his work with clients through therapy (CA) and coaching (worldwide) via telehealth.

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