“They’re Selling Everything as Trauma”: When the Critique Is Right — and When It Misses the Point

A recent Guardian piece argued that emotional pain is increasingly being packaged as “trauma” — branded, curated, and sold in an economy that rewards confession and self-labelling. It’s a critique worth taking seriously. Mental health language has entered social media, marketing, and parts of the wellness space in ways that can flatten nuance — and, at times, turn suffering into a product. As a specialist EMDR practitioner, I share some of these concerns. Not every difficulty is trauma. Not every painful experience requires therapy. And for some people, repeatedly defining the self through wounds can narrow identity rather than expand it. When trauma language is used carelessly, it can encourage fragility, reduce personal agency, or turn ordinary distress into something that feels permanently defining. But the problem is not trauma-informed therapy itself. The problem is the commercialisation and dilution of it. In clinical practice, “trauma” is not a brand or a personality type. It refers to recognisable nervous system responses that develop when experiences overwhelm a person’s capacity to cope — especially when escape, protection, or support is not available. This is not a social media trend. It is a well-established clinical and developmental understanding supported by neuroscience, psychology, and international guidance (including NICE and the World Health Organization). This distinction matters, particularly for children and teenagers. Young people rarely describe trauma in neat psychological language. Instead, trauma often shows up as behaviour: - emotional shutdown or going “blank” - anger, withdrawal, or sudden changes in mood - risk-taking or impulsivity - attention and learning difficulties - sleep disruption or unexplained physical symptoms Without a trauma-informed lens, these children can be labelled “defiant”, “lazy”, or “unmotivated” — when, in reality, they may be overwhelmed and trying to cope the only way their system knows. Evidence-based trauma therapies do not ask people to perform their pain, nor to endlessly revisit it. EMDR, for example, is recommended by NICE and the WHO for the treatment of PTSD. The aim is not to build a trauma identity; it is to reduce the emotional intensity of distressing experiences so they stop intruding into the present. In other words, the goal is freedom from being organised around the past. Healthy scepticism about the mental health marketplace is vital. But dismissing trauma-focused work altogether confuses cultural trends with clinical reality. Many people — quietly, without hashtags or labels — live with the long-term effects of unresolved trauma, and they deserve effective care. Good therapy is not about selling suffering. It is about restoring choice, resilience, and presence.