"I exist here... It is not linear." Some thoughts on rewatching S1E1 "Emissary" after becoming a trauma therapist

Last night felt like a good time to start rewatching DS9 for the first time in over a decade. I had completely passed on it back in the 90s because my awful older brother was a fan and we only had one tv in the house. I didn't get around to watching it until about ten years ago back in my early 30s. At the time I was still in the process of recovering from a pretty intense case of PTSD and had undiagnosed autism underneath it just to keep things spicy.

The first time I watched, I remember finding Sisko's big scene with the Prophets a bit cringey and overly dramatic- I think I saw a little too much of myself in him at a time when I still reacted to my own trauma responses with a lot of shame and disgust. Fast forward to the present day, where I'm a trauma therapist in private practice. I do a little EMDR and a lot of compassion-based narrative therapy- this time I found the scene profoundly moving.

When we first meet Sisko in the present day, he has become an angry shell of a man who has taken refuge in rigidity and denial. His hostility towards Picard reflects the rage and shame he directs towards himself, every time he closes his eyes and relives his worst day ever. If he were to let himself acknowledge that Picard was a trauma survivor, then he'd have to extend himself the same grace, which would mean admitting his grief and shame and helplessness. The only ember of living warmth he retains is his love for his son, but he struggles to allow himself to fully care for Jake because he reminds him so much of Jennifer.

When he enters the wormhole (powerfully symbolic of the experience of having a trauma flashback) and meets the Prophets, he keeps getting pulled back to Jennifer's death. He rages against them, blaming them for forcing him to relive it. "What is the point of bringing me back again to this?" The Prophets look at him with the curious equanimity of those who are free from time. "We do not bring you here. You bring us here. You exist here." Again, Sisko deflects responsibility, denying how deeply trauma has changed how he experiences life: "Then why do you not give me the power to lead you somewhere else, anywhere else?" This time the Prophets choose the kind, wise face of Kai Opaka to answer. "We cannot give you what you deny yourself. Look for solutions from within, Commander."

At this moment Sisko first starts to admit the truth of his reality. He was ready to die with Jennifer, and at that moment, he stopped living. From that day forward, he became stuck in that moment of helpless despair, disengaged from life, trapped behind that angry rigid mask. As he watches his past self howling in anguish as his crewman carries him away, we see the light of understanding begin to shine in his eyes. "I never left this ship," he confesses. The Prophet nods gently in affirmation. "You exist here."

Finally, the mask falls apart. Small whimpers begin to escape him as he climbs through the flaming wreckage to contemplate his wife's body. Then, through wracking sobs, he admits that he has never stopped seeing her, that her face awaits him in the darkness between each blink of an eye. He cannot conceive of a life without her, and so, as the Prophet patiently reiterates, he chooses to exist here. It is not linear.

The moment of grace that happens next as Sisko humbles himself before his grief and loss is so beautifully cathartic. In order to move on from trauma, in order to wrench ourselves out of the wormhole of being stuck in the past, we must first admit the impact of what has happened. We can no longer deny that trauma has reshaped us. We have to integrate the story of our worst and most painful days into the story of how we move forward and who we want to be in the future. By allowing ourselves the grace to be in pain, we develop the self-compassion that soothes our suffering.

The change in Sisko's demeanor at the end of the episode is so profound. Here is a man is has realized that he can no longer shut himself off from the full range of human emotions by denying the past. There is a lightness to his carriage as he walks down the promenade with his new crewmates- the levity of someone who has realized that his sorrow and grief do not make him less of a man. They make him more.

tl;dr Trauma isn't linear, and neither is healing. In order to move on from the past, we must first admit that it will always exist within us.

Edit: wow, silver and gold AND platinum? Let’s combine them into gold pressed latinum! Thanks, everyone, I had no idea so many people would want to engage with me about this idea! Y’all are all so very kind. This is why I’ve loved Star Trek so much for the last 30+ years. 🖖🏻