It’s time for Prince Harry to get over his addiction to trauma

Prince Harry hails from jolly ol’ England, and now lives in posh Montecito.

But they say home is where the heart is — and, for Harry, that’s wallowing in his personal trauma.

The Duke of Sussex has made that clear in his unsparingly insufferable memoir, “Spare,” and a streamed session with trauma rock-star Dr. Gabor Mate — who, after reading the book, diagnosed Harry with a stack of mental maladies including ADD and depression.

Last week, Bloomberg reported that, before Harry and Meghan’s $20 million Spotify deal went belly up, Harry even pitched an idea around his favorite topic: childhood trauma.

He reportedly floated the idea to put the world’s most elusive, controversial or influential folks on a shrink’s couch and learn how their childhood trials shaped their adult lives.

Specifically, he wanted to lift the hood on the notoriously self-reflective Donald Trump and the always emoting Mark Zuckerberg.

Harry’s other choice was Vladimir Putin — a despot so vicious that the question of whether his parents spanked him too hard hasn’t been so pondered since “90210” actress Annalynne McCord’s 2022 spoken-word opus that began: “Dear President Vladimir Putin, I’m so sorry that I was not your mother.”

Sure, the Sussexes’ blockbuster Spotify deal is deader than Zion Williamson’s reputation with the ladies. But this latest revelation shows Harry’s delusion and self-importance is very much alive — he actually thinks every high-profile person wants to mine the trials of their youth for clicks and spill their guts to him, of all people.

It also shows his severe addiction to the concept of trauma and the need to mainline it into every facet of his life.

Even Harry and Meghan’s alleged “two-hour” chase by paparazzi in New York City in May was played out to remind everyone of his emotional damage — his mother dying in a car crash while being followed by paparazzi, his gripes about media intrusion —and tangibly connect his past tragedies to his ever fraught present.

It seems Harry does not want to heal, but is instead most comfortable picking his scabs and reopening the wound for others to gawk and examine. And if they feel sympathy for him, even better.

The practice helps further his well-documented grievances. It also means he can forever remove personal accountability by claiming he’s so controlled by the forces of his tragic adolescence.

Putting trauma at the centerpiece of his personal platform gives Harry endless opportunity to keep trashing his stiff-upper-lip family — a virtual key to open and reopen their chamber of secrets.

Harry is a trauma influencer the same way Kim Kardashian sells plastic physiques and sex appeal— frequently, and to great wealth.

But his obsession is also a reflection of our current culture of over-analysis, which fetishizes the idea of trauma and turns it into a status symbol.

I hear from parents of teen girls who regularly search for their trauma, showing it off like an earlier generation would a fancy new car. Having life-altering emotional hardship is what the kids would call cool. Is it any wonder we are facing a teen mental health crisis?

Exploring one’s formative years to understand personal pain is healthy. But how effective is it repeated on a loop?

When society reinforces our fragility and encourages us to sit and stew in our personal demons, emotional progress can atrophy.

And Harry has become a one-hit wonder trying to climb the charts with the same old tune, repackaged in a slightly different way.

I hope the once-charming “People’s Prince” realizes that he has more than mental anguish and victimhood to offer the world.