During an online discussion with my neighbors, one of them shared a deeply unsettling experience. She had been verbally and physically assaulted by a woman who lived further down the street. She managed to capture the latter part of the encounter on camera, providing evidence of the hostility she endured.
As our community rallied around her with words of support and sympathy, one comment in particular caught my attention. Someone suggested that the aggressor appeared to be acting out of an intense sense of fear and perceived danger, so much so that she might have become a danger herself. This insight resonated with me, as it reminded me of many clients, I’ve worked with who have experienced trauma. Their pain often manifests in ways that surprisingly mirror the very harm they once suffered. As the saying goes, “Hurt people hurt people”.
This left me with a difficult question: To what extent should we extend grace to someone who has suffered trauma and reacts defensively as a result? And at what point must they be held accountable for their actions?
I can think of countless clients who, when faced with certain triggers, become reactive as a means of self-protection. One particular client stands out in my mind. She was among the hardest-working individuals I’ve had the privilege to work with. She was dedicated, introspective, and committed to her healing. She approached each session with a genuine desire to grow, and it was clear that she carried that effort beyond our meetings. Yet, when conflicts arose with her partner, her responses became abusive. In moments of distress, she would enter a state of rage where nothing was off limits. Though she later expressed remorse, she also expected her apologies to be accepted without question, often justifying her actions by referencing the wounds that shaped her. However, if her partner made even a minor mistake, he was met with overwhelming judgement and defined by that single misstep. This is what is classified as a fundamental attribution error. I often see this at play in these situations. People tend to justify their own harmful behaviors based on circumstance, explaining why their reaction was inevitable or even necessary, while condemning others for exhibiting the same behaviors, such as their parents. It’s a human tendency, but one that complicates the balance between compassion and accountability.
What made this particularly heartbreaking was the realization that this client’s behaviors in these moments mirrored the very abuse she had once endured as a child. The responses she had learned as survival mechanisms were now manifesting in ways that harmed those closest to her. It was a stark reminder of how trauma rewires the brain, making reactive behaviors feel almost instinctual.
I can also think of another client who remains in a relationship with a partner exhibiting similar patterns to the client I previously mentioned. During moments of conflict, boundaries disappear, and the partner becomes abusive. While it’s clear that the relationship is unhealthy, my client insists on not judging their partner for their trauma by stating that people are not the sum of their trauma. I agreed but highlighted that while this perspective is deeply compassionate, the absence of boundaries ultimately reinforces the unhealthy dynamic, signaling a willingness to endure mistreatment. I noted that, as a result, his partner feels empowered to continue this behavior.
Understanding someone’s past does not mean excusing the harm they cause. At what point does empathy for a person’s history stop justifying the consequences of their present actions? And in which situations do we extend the same level of understanding? Consider cases of sexual abuse, where perpetrators were often once victims themselves. Do we excuse their behavior because of their trauma? How do we acknowledge that trauma shapes behavior while still affirming the necessity of personal responsibility? Ultimately, while trauma can explain harmful actions, it cannot excuse them. We cannot justify perpetuating the same harm that was once inflicted upon us. However, what makes this conclusion especially difficult is the fact that trauma genuinely reshapes the brain. It can hardwire certain responses, making it profoundly difficult for individuals to break free from learned patterns of harm. And yet, with support, accountability, and intentional effort, change is possible. People can heal and unlearn destructive behaviors.
This incident within my neighborhood serves as a powerful reminder of the ethical and mental complexities involved in responding to trauma. It challenges us to ask: How do we navigate the fine line between understanding and enabling? How do we support those struggling with the weight of their past while ensuring safety for those around them? And most importantly, how do we foster a culture of healing that recognizes both the impact of trauma and the necessity of accountability?
While we can show compassion to those who have been hurt and, in turn, have hurt others (regardless of intent), the outcome remains the same, we must also uphold accountability. Without it, we risk a world where actions go unchecked, leading to further harm. Healing and responsibility must go hand in hand.
